Nightwatch

The explanation wasn't all that convincing. A simple frightening spell would have kept any normal people from coming anywhere near the place. But no one got a chance to say it—Tiger Cub got in first:

«It's just the way I am, okay.»

«How long are the dogs going to stay hanging there like that?» asked Yulia, snuggling up against Tiger Cub again. «I want to make friends with them. Otherwise I'll be left with a latent psychological complex that's bound to have an effect on my personality and my sexual preferences.»

Semyon snorted. Yulia's crack had finally defused the conflict—but it was anybody's guess how spontaneous or how calculated it had been.

«They'll start moving again before the evening. Well, hostess, are you going to invite us in?»

We left the dogs hanging and standing around the car and walked toward the house.

«What a great place you have, Tiger Cub!» said Yulia. She was ignoring the rest of us completely now, clinging to the young woman. As if the sorceress were her idol and she could be forgiven for anything, even over-vigilant guard dogs.

Why is it that the powers we can't develop are always the ones that obsess us?

Yulia's a magnificent analytical sorceress. She can untangle the threads of reality and reveal the concealed magical causes of events that seem ordinary. She's really smart, and everyone in the department loves her, not just as a cute little girl, but as a comrade-in-arms, a valued and sometimes quite irreplaceable colleague. But her idol is Tiger Cub, a shape-shifting sorceress, a combat magician. Why couldn't she decide to imitate good-hearted old Polina Vasilievna, who worked in the analytical department half-time, or fall in love with the head of the department, the impressive, middle-aged lady-killer Edik.

But no, she'd chosen Tiger Cub as her idol.

I started whistling a tune, as I walked along at the back of the procession. I caught Svetlana's eye and gave her a quick nod. Everything was fine. We had whole days of doing nothing ahead of us. No Dark Ones or Light Ones, no intrigues and plots, no confrontations. Just swimming in the lake, sunbathing, eating kebabs from the barbecue, and washing them down with red wine. And in the evening—the bathhouse. A big house like this had to have a good bathhouse. And then Semyon and I could take a couple of bottles of vodka and a jar of pickled mushrooms, get as far away as possible from the rest of the crowd, and drink ourselves stupid, gazing up at the stars and making philosophical conversation.

Great.

I want to be a human being. For at least twenty-four hours.

Semyon stopped and nodded to me.

«Let's take two bottles. Three, even. Someone else might decide to join us.»

«It's a deal,» I said with a nod. He hadn't been reading my thoughts, it was just that he had so much more experience of life than I did.

«It's easier for you,» Semyon added. «I almost never get the chance to be a human being.»

«Do you need to?» Tiger Cub asked, halting by the door.

Semyon shrugged:

«Of course not. But I kind of like the idea.»

We went into the house.

Twenty guests were a bit too much even for this house. If we'd been ordinary people, it would have been different. But we made too much noise. Try bringing together twenty kids who've been studying hard for months, give them the free run of a well-stocked toy shop, let them do anything they like, and see what you end up with.

Sveta and I were just about the only ones not really caught up in the noisy fun and games. We grabbed a glass of wine each off the buffet table and settled down on a leather couch in the corner of the living room.

Semyon and Ilya locked horns in a duel of magic. Very cultured, peaceful, and amusing for the others who were watching—at first, that is. Semyon must have wounded his friend's vanity in the car: Now they were taking turns changing the climate in the living room. We'd already had winter in the forest outside Moscow, and autumn mist, and summer in Spain. Tiger Cub had categorically forbidden any kind of rain, but the magicians weren't trying to summon up a violent display of the elements. They'd obviously imposed some restrictions of their own on the extent of climatic change, and the competition was less about who could produce the most unusual moment of nature ever recorded than who could deliver something that suited the mood of the moment.

Garik, Farid, and Danila were playing cards. A perfectly ordinary game, with no frills, but the air above the table was sparkling with magic. They were using magical means for cheating and protecting themselves against it. It made no real difference what cards they were holding in their hands.

Ignat stood by the open doors, surrounded by all the women from the research department, with our useless programmers in tow. Our sexual giant must have suffered some kind of romantic reversal, and now he was seeking comfort from a close circle of friends.

«Anton,» Sveta asked in a low voice, «what do you think—is all this for real?»

«What exactly?»

«The happy mood. You remember what Semyon said, don't you?»

I shrugged:

«Can we come back to this when we get to be a hundred? I'm feeling good. It's that simple. I don't have to go ru

«I feel good too,» Svetlana agreed. «But there are only four of us here who are young, or almost young. Yulia, Tiger Cub, you, and me. What are we going to be like after a hundred years? Or after three hundred?»

«We'll have to wait and see.»

«Anton, listen to me,» Sveta said, touching my cheek lightly with her hand. «I'm very proud that I joined the Watch. I'm happy that my mother's well again. My life's better now, no doubt about it. I can even understand why the boss put you through that ordeal…«

«Don't, Sveta.» I took hold of her hand. «Even I understood that, and I got the worst of it. Don't talk about it.»

«I wasn't going to.» Sveta drained her glass of wine and put it down. «Anton, what I'm trying to say is—I can't see any real joy.»

«Where?» Sometimes I must seem incredibly thick-headed.

«Here. In the . In our close, friendly team. After all, every day is just one more battle for us. A big one or a little one. With a crazed werewolf, with a Dark Magician, with all the powers of Darkness at once. Summon up those sinews, jut out those chins, prepare to block that gun port with your bare chest, or squat on a hedgehog with your bare ass.»

I snorted with laughter.

«Sveta, what's so bad about all that? Yes, we're soldiers. Every last one of us, from Yulia to Gesar. Sure, it's no great fun being at war. But if we pull back, then…«

«Then what?» Sveta asked. «Will the Apocalypse arrive? The forces of Good and Evil have been fighting each other for a thousand years. Tearing at each other's throats, setting armies of human beings against each other—and all for their loftiest goals. But tell me, Anton, have people really not become any better in all that time?»

«Yes, they have.»

«And what about since the Watches were set up? Anton, my darling, you've told me so many things, and not just you. That the most important battle is for people's souls, that we're preventing mass slaughter. But are we? People still kill people. Far more than they used to do two hundred years ago.»

«Are you trying to tell me that the work we do is actually harmful?»

«No,» said Sveta, with a weary shake of her head. «No, I'm not. I'm not that conceited. I was just trying to say that maybe we're simply the Light, and that's all there is to it… You know, they've started selling fake New Year Tree decorations in Moscow. They look just like the real thing, but they don't bring people any joy at all.»

She told the short joke with an absolutely straight face, without even changing her tone of voice. She looked in my eyes.

«Do you understand what I mean?»

«I understand.»

«Maybe you do. The Dark Ones have started doing less Evil,» said Svetlana. «These mutual concessions of ours, good deed for bad deed, licenses for murder and healing, that can all be justified, I'm sure. The Dark Ones do less Evil than they used to, and we don't do Evil by definition. But what about the people?»

«What have people got to do with it?»

«What do you mean? It's them we're defending. Tirelessly, self-sacrificingly. So why aren't their lives getting any better? They do the work of Darkness themselves. Why? Maybe it's because we've lost something, Anton? The faith the Light Magicians used to have when they sent entire armies to their death, and marched in the front ranks themselves? The ability not just to defend people, but to bring them joy? What good are secure walls if they're the walls of a prison? People have forgotten about genuine magic; people don't believe in the Darkness, but they don't believe in the Light either! Yes, Anton, we are soldiers! But people only love the army when there's a war going on!»

«There is a war going on.»

«Who knows about it?»

«We're not just plain soldiers, I suppose,» I said. It never feels good to retreat from old, familiar positions, but there was no other way out. «More like hussars. Taram, taram, taram…«

«The hussars knew how to smile. But we hardly ever do.»

«Then tell me what I ought to do,» I said, realizing that what had promised to be a beautiful day was rapidly ru

I noticed that the entire living room had fallen silent; nobody was listening to anything but us. But I didn't care.

«Tell me to go out in the street and kill Dark Ones, and I'll go. I'm not very good at it, but I'll give it my best shot! Tell me to smile and shower Good on the people, and I'll go and do it. Good and Evil, Light and Darkness, we use these words so often we lose sight of what they mean; we hang them out like flags and leave them to rot in the wind and the rain. Then give us a new word! Give us new flags! Tell me where to go and what to do!»

Her lips started trembling. I stopped short, but it was too late.

Svetlana sat there crying, with her hands over her face.

What on earth was I doing?

Had we really forgotten how to smile at each other?

Maybe I was absolutely right, a hundred times right, but…

What was my truth worth, if I was prepared to defend the entire world, but not those who were close to me? If I subdued hate, but wouldn't give love a chance?