‘In the name of all that’s holy, keep quiet!’ Denis implored her. ‘The last thing we need now is a third essay!’
CHAPTER 1
ANNA TIKHONOVNA WAS drinking tea in Gesar’s office. There was a cup standing in front of the boss, too, but he seemed to be entirely absorbed in the document that was open on his computer.
‘How did the lesson go?’ the old woman asked curiously.
‘Fine.’ I sat down facing her, taking advantage of Gesar’s silence to pour myself a cup of tea. ‘I told them you had cholecystitis.’
‘Good,’ said Anna Tikhonovna, nodding. ‘I hope you’re not too tired, Anton?’
‘No, no, of course not,’ I said and took a sip of tea. Anna Tikhonovna was a woman of the old school. They said that, when there was no one there to see, our one and only teacher even drank her tea out of the saucer. She refused to acknowledge green teas and despised even more the herbal infusions that were called ‘teas’ through some misunderstanding. As she conceived it, tea had to be as black as tar and as strong as a sinner’s conscience.
Or the other way round. As black as that conscience and as strong as tar.
And sweet.
Under the old woman’s watchful eye, I gave in and put three lumps of sugar into my cup. Stirred it. Took a swallow.
Strangely enough, it tasted good. Although at home I would never even have thought of drinking tea with sugar. I wouldn’t even have been able to swallow it.
‘Why do you dislike this lesson so much, Anna Tikhonovna?’ I asked. ‘I recall that in my time you didn’t take it either – you had flu. Tiger Cub took us for it…’
We fell silent for a moment.
‘Anton, do you feel comfortable taking that lesson?’ the teacher asked.
‘Well… not really,’ I said, wincing. ‘Explaining to young people that all their grandiose plans to ennoble humanity or their own country will never be anything more than so much dust, that all we can do is work with the minor details and stand up to the Day Watch… Yes, it’s not very enjoyable.’
‘But it has to be done,’ said Gesar, without looking up from the computer. ‘Anton, how do you cancel a marked list in Pages?’
‘Go into “view”, call up the “inspector” window and there’ll be a bookmark in it…’ I looked at Gesar in surprise. ‘Have you decided to master the Mac now, then?’
‘It’s interesting to learn something new,’ said Gesar, sliding the mouse around the desk. ‘Or do you think I’m already too old for that?’
‘Oh, come now, boss,’ I answered, sipping at my tea. ‘You’re still a very robust old man.’
‘Moving from an abacus to an arithmometer was hard for me. But moving from an arithmometer to a calculator was easy. And I never did like typewriters, I even used to have a shorthand typist before…’ He paused and smiled at some memory or other. Anna Tikhonovna smiled slightly as well. ‘But I liked computers straight away. There’s something right about them… magical!’
‘I wholeheartedly approve,’ I said, with a nod. ‘No, really. It’s useful to master a new skill.’
‘And how is our little Prophet doing?’ Gesar asked out of the blue.
‘He’s learning his lessons.’
‘Has he made friends with anyone?’
‘With Nadya,’ I said. ‘But I assume you know that.’
‘I do,’ Gesar admitted. ‘At that age, if a girl thumps a boy on the nose it marks the start of a long and firm friendship. A pity everything’s so much more complicated for grown-ups.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I muttered. The boss had not started talking about Innokentii simply out of idle curiosity – I was sure of that.
‘Rather annoying that no one heard his prophecy,’ the boss went on.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, pricking up my ears.
‘And Nadya definitely didn’t hear anything?’
‘Definitely. She just thumped the kid to motivate him and walked out.’
‘And there weren’t any security cameras in that room,’ Gesar carried on lamenting. ‘Or were there?’
‘There were. Only Nadya… er… switched them off.’
‘Burnt them out,’ Gesar corrected me. ‘Why, by the way?’
‘So that no one would hear the prophecy.’
‘Logical, logical…’ Gesar sighed.
Anna Tikhonovna and I exchanged glances. Of course, I had known the boss for a hundred years less than our teacher had. But it wasn’t hard to understand that he was steering the conversation round to some subject that only he was aware of.
‘You know what’s bothering me, though?’ asked Gesar, suddenly leaning back in his chair and pushing the keyboard away.
‘The universal problems of all creation,’ I growled.
‘Yes, you’re right, Anton. Precisely that, the universal problems of all creation. I’ve realised that I don’t know what the Twilight is.’
‘A parallel reality with a stratiform structure,’ said Anna Tikhonovna. ‘Passing from one level of the Twilight to another requires the expenditure of Power – on both the transition itself and the maintenance of one’s own vital functions. Each successive layer of the Twilight differs more and more from our world, although it is possible to pass from the sixth level directly to our world, which is thus also the seventh level of the Twilight.’
‘An absolutely comprehensive explanation – for an Other in his first month of instruction,’ said Gesar. ‘Allow me to remark that only ten years ago, young Others were absolutely certain that the Twilight had three levels… and I myself knew nothing about the transition from the sixth layer back to our world. But still, what is the Twilight?’
‘Parallel worlds,’ I said, with a shrug. ‘Of course, that’s an explanation on the level of science fiction, but any other would be from the realm of fantasy. We can even surmise that it is certain variations on our world, the way that it might have been… alternative worlds that separated off at some time from ours…’
‘Or was it our world that separated off from some other?’ said Gesar. ‘All right, let’s accept that. Our science team can’t say anything that makes better sense in any case. And the Inquisition’s research centres wouldn’t have anything much to add… they’d only cloud the whole issue with their “subtle structures”, “dark matter” and “quantum fluctuations”. But still, what is the Twilight? Just six worlds that humankind hasn’t managed to foul up?’
‘You can’t get that Tiger out of your head,’ I said, realising where he was leading.
‘Of course,’ Gesar said, nodding. ‘As long as we swear on the Light and the Darkness and receive a certain response that was defined ages ago’ – Gesar waved his hand through the air and for an instant a small sphere of blinding white fire flared up on his palm – ‘we can regard it as some kind of law of physics. But the Tiger – he was alive. He spoke. He modelled his behaviour according to ours. When an avalanche engulfs a skier, that’s a law of nature. But when the avalanche starts pursuing one single boy, who’s messing about in the snow at the foot of the mountain, and it actually carefully tosses everyone else aside or goes around them… that’s not just wet snow plus the force of gravity any longer. That’s intelligence.’
‘The laws of nature are not intelligent,’ I replied. ‘The force of gravity is not intelligent. Electricity is not intelligent. A savage looking at a television might assume that it’s a sapient being, but we—’
‘A sapient being? Looking at a television these days, the only possible assumption is that it’s a loud-mouthed, hysterical madman suffering from progressive mental debility,’ Anna Tikhonovna said derisively.
‘What I mean is that the Tiger’s intelligence is by no means proof that the Twilight is intelligent,’ I said stubbornly. ‘Was the Mirror – Vitalii Rogoza – intelligent? Of course. But at the same time he was spawned by the Twilight in order to maintain the balance.’
‘The Twilight merely influenced an indeterminate Other, Vitalii Rogoza,’ said Gesar. ‘And Rogoza acted intuit
ively, without really understanding what was going on. The Tiger’s a different matter.’
‘All right,’ I sighed. ‘I won’t argue. You’re not running me through all this just for the fun of it, boss. Or for the sake of my education.’
‘Of course not,’ Gesar said, nodding in agreement. ‘And Anna Tikhonovna’s not here by chance either. Oddly enough, she’s our greatest specialist on the living and quasi-rational manifestations of the Twilight. In other words – on folklore.’
I looked at our teacher in amazement. She was a bright old woman, of course, but there was the science section…
‘It’s my hobby,’ Anna Tikhonovna said modestly. ‘I don’t have the strength to go chasing bloodsuckers through the streets, my health won’t allow it. And I don’t think I’m any kind of genius. But I do have a lot of free time, so I spend it on things that our men of science don’t take into account…’
‘I have only myself to blame that I didn’t know about this any sooner,’ said Gesar. ‘I expect things would have been a lot simpler with the Tiger.’
‘I study Mirrors, Shades, the Transparent Other, Tigers, the Clapper, the Clay Man…’ Anna Tikhonovna continued.
‘The Transparent Other? The Clapper? The Clay Man?’ To say I was surprised would have been putting it mildly.
‘Oh, Anton, they are such interesting phenomena!’ Anna Tikhonovna exclaimed, warming to her subject. ‘The Clapper, for instance, only appears on the second level of the Twilight. In the whole of history, only five cases have been recorded. When an Other—’
‘Anna Tikhonovna, I’m prepared to concede that there is something to this item of folklore too,’ said Gesar. ‘But let’s get back to the Tiger.’
‘You ferreted out everything about the Tiger yourself,’ the teacher sighed. ‘It’s a pity, of course, that you didn’t come to me, I could have saved you heaps of time. The only thing I have is – I know Erasmus’s address.’
‘Erasmus Darwin?’ I exclaimed in delight.
‘Anton, don’t even ask me how I got hold of it,’ said Anna Tikhonovna, lowering her eyes modestly. ‘You know that according to the law, no one has the right to disturb an Other who has deliberately withdrawn from active involvement with the Watches…’
‘I would have needed permission from the head of the local Night Watch and a clear statement from the head of the Day Watch that he didn’t object, simply in order to apply to the local branch of the Inquisition for the address to be released,’ said Gesar. ‘And even then they could easily not have given me it…’
‘But I went about it more simply,’ said Anna Tikhonovna, unable to resist, and started telling her story, despite that ‘don’t even ask me how I got hold of it’ business. ‘I read Erasmus’s Sexual Life of Plants and wrote a critical treatise on it. Well… partly laudatory and partly critical. Just critical enough to pique Erasmus slightly. I published it in an English journal – and a week later I received a rejoinder.’
She smiled. I couldn’t help smiling too.
‘So our dendrophile took the bait… What happened then?’
‘We wrote to each other for a while. For the sake of appearances I argued at first, then I admitted that my criticism was entirely wrong – basically, I repented, and Erasmus changed his attitude towards me. It’s not very often these days that anyone shows any interest in his beloved scientific work. We got along famously for a while, he even started flirting with me and invited me to visit him. But then I made a mistake. I was really only interested in the story of the Tiger, Anton… and I mentioned him. Erasmus evidently realised where my interest lay. And he took offence.’
‘Why?’
‘Surely it’s obvious? His beloved botany, which was the reason why he associated with me in the first place, turned out to be nothing more than an excuse for getting to know him…’ I could hear the note of embarrassment in the old woman’s voice.
‘Imagine that you have an interest, a fanatical interest in something slightly crazy,’ Gesar put in. ‘And suddenly you meet an Other who shares your passion – for collecting moths, for instance. Or for studying the medicinal properties of kefir. And you communicate with them, you feel glad to know them… perhaps you even fall in love. And then suddenly you discover it’s all just an excuse to get close to you and find out about the Chalk of Fate, which you once held in your hands.’
‘I get it,’ I said with a nod. ‘Erasmus hasn’t changed his address, has he?’
‘Not as far as we’ve been able to find out,’ said Gesar, shaking his head.
‘And where does he live? Somewhere in the back of beyond, obviously. Amid boundless, grassy expanses and centuries-old trees? The heather-clad wilds of Scotland, the bleak cliffs of Wales…’
‘He lives in London,’ Gesar snorted. ‘As the years pass by, you start to appreciate comfort, believe me.’
‘A work trip to London… not bad,’ I mused wistfully.
‘Well, that’s where you’re going.’
‘Well, I won’t argue with that,’ I replied quickly. ‘Who with?’
‘On your own. No combat situations are anticipated. We don’t have anybody who’s acquainted with Erasmus – apart from Anna Tikhonovna, but in view of the circumstances under which their contact was broken off…’
‘But don’t you know him?’ I asked hopefully.
Gesar shook his head.
‘No, I don’t. And Foma Lermont doesn’t, either. We could dig up some contact at the fourth or fifth remove, but that’s not likely to be any help.’
‘I’ve just had a thought,’ Anna Tikhonovna put in almost timidly. ‘What if Anton took Kesha with him?’
‘You think Erasmus might be moved by a boy whose fate is so much like his own?’ asked Gesar, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘What do you think, Anton?’
‘I don’t think a four-hundred-years-old Other is likely to be very sentimental,’ I replied. ‘I’d rather take Svetlana with me.’
‘Just as soon as she comes back to the Watch,’ Gesar chuckled. ‘Go to London, Anton. Have a talk with Erasmus. Perhaps he might tell you something important. If not… it’ll blow your cobwebs away for you. I’ve signed off on your trip, the tickets are ready, pick them up in the accounts office. You fly tomorrow morning.’
‘Business class, I hope?’ I joked.
‘Yes,’ said Gesar.
That put a damper on my urge to be witty. Of course, the Night Watch wasn’t a poor organisation, and we didn’t make all that many business trips… But why had Gesar suddenly turned generous enough to send me business class?
‘And what’s the per diem?’ I asked.
‘A hundred and twenty pounds a day. And the hotel’s paid.’
Was he being serious, then?
‘Will I be staying in the Radisson or the Sheraton?’ I asked, testing the water further.
‘No chance,’ Gesar laughed. ‘A small, traditional English hotel – what better way to get to know a strange country?’
‘Boris Ignatievich, where’s the catch?’ I asked, giving up.
‘There isn’t one. It’s simply that you really have been doing a pretty good job just recently. Let’s say I’ve invented a holiday on the house for you. If you don’t achieve anything, I won’t criticise you for it, and if you really do find out something – I’ll send you on your next mission in the corporate plane.’
‘Uh-huh, if only we had one,’ I chortled as I got up.
‘I’m just about to buy one,’ said Gesar. ‘Which do you think is best – a Gulfstream or an Embraer?’
‘A Yak-40,’ I answered and walked out of the office.
What bothered me most of all was that Gesar didn’t seem to be joking.
What would the Night Watch of the city of Moscow want with a corporate jet plane?
It would be better if they changed the air conditioners in the office – in summer the heat was so bad that you could hardly breathe!
If there was one thing I was certain of after fifteen years in the Watch, it
was that Gesar never did anything without a good reason. He didn’t set any assignments on a purely functional basis, or in sudden fits of altruism.
For instance, take that old business with the boy Egor, the indeterminate Other who was being hunted by vampires. Why did Gesar suddenly decide to send me out ‘into the field’ to catch bloodsuckers who broke the rules? Simply to shift me from office work to the front line? No – or rather, not just for that. It was also to create a thicker smokescreen around the boy and teach me a lesson about the ‘goodness’ of the Night Watch – and the ‘wickedness’ of the Day Watch. And very probably he was also nudging me in the direction of Svetlana, tying our relations together in the knot that would lead to Nadya being born. And perhaps even with the intention of explaining – to me and the other watchmen – what a Mirror is. Could the boss have been expecting a Mirror to appear, suspecting it was Egor and not that poor devil Rogoza, who was fated to turn into it? And incidentally, the Russian boy’s first name and the young Ukrainian’s family name even sounded vaguely similar – Egor and Rogoza…
Damn it! Now I was really going over the top! Inventing my own conspiracy theories. Gesar’s an arch-intriguer, of course, and all his actions have double and triple agendas, but latching onto the fact that two names have similar sounds – that’s a sure step down the path to paranoia.
What did Gesar really have in mind, sending me to London like this, and on such sensationally good conditions – a paid trip, a business-class flight and a safe, hassle-free assignment? We had plenty of less powerful but highly professional members of the Watch, male and female, who could have met Erasmus and tried to find out something from him.
Either Gesar suspected that the assignment could turn out more dangerous than it seemed…
Or he saw some special qualities in me that would allow me to handle the assignment better than the others…
Or the whole deal was phoney, to distract someone’s attention from the real business. Say, Gesar believed that Zabulon was following me and would now go dashing off to London to see Erasmus too.
I sighed. I could carry on thinking up any number of theories. But somehow I had the feeling that I was missing something very simple and very logical – and therefore missing the most logical explanation.
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