Nightwatch

Did I imagine it, or was there a glint of surprise in Gesar's eyes?

It was hard to tell what the Higher Magician was really thinking.

«Let's begin,» he said. «Svetlana, you know what you have to do.»

«I do,» she said, looking at me. I moved a few steps away from her. So did Gesar. Now there were just the two of them standing together—Svetlana and Egor. Both equally anxious. Equally tense. I looked across at Zabulon; he was waiting. Svetlana opened the little box—the click of the catch sounded like a gunshot—and slowly took out the piece of chalk, almost as if she didn't want to. It was tiny. Had it really been worn down so much by the Light's attempts to alter the destiny of the world over the mille

Gesar sighed.

Svetlana squatted down and began drawing a circle around herself and the boy.

I had nothing to say. I didn't know what to do.

I'd collected so much Power that it was bursting out of me.

I had the right to do Good.

There was just one little thing missing—I didn't understand exactly how.

The wind stirred. Timidly, cautiously. Then it faded away.

I looked up and shuddered. Something was happening. Here, in the human world, the sky was covered with clouds. I hadn't even noticed them appear.

Svetlana finished drawing the circle and stood up.

I tried glancing at her through the Twilight and immediately turned away. She seemed to be holding a red-hot coal in her hand. Was she feeling any pain?

«There's a storm approaching,» Zabulon said from one side. «A real storm, the kind we haven't had for a long time now.»

He laughed.

Nobody paid any attention to what he said. Except perhaps the wind—it started blowing more evenly, growing stronger. I looked down at the street; everything was calm. Svetlana was tracing the chalk through the air as if she were drawing something only she could see. A square outline with some design inside it.

Egor gave a quiet groan and threw his head back. I took half a step forward and stopped. I couldn't get across the barrier. And there was no point anyway.

When you don't know what to do, don't trust anything. Not your cool head, not your pure heart, not your hot hands.

«Anton!»

I looked at the boss. Gesar seemed worried.

«That's not just a storm, Anton. It's a hurricane. People will be killed.»

«The Dark Ones?» I asked simply.

«No, the elements.»

«Maybe you overdid it slightly with the concentration of Power?» I asked. The boss ignored the jibe.

«Anton, what level of magical intervention are you allowed?»

Ah, of course, he knew about my deal with Zabulon.

«Second.»

«You can stop the hurricane,» said Gesar. A simple statement of fact. «Reduce it to no more than a cloudburst. You've collected enough Power.»

The wind sprang up again. And this time it wasn't going to stop. It tore and tugged at us, as if it had decided to blow us all off the roof. The rain started lashing down.

«It looks like your last chance,» the boss added. «But then, it's up to you.»

The defensive shield sprang up around him with a glassy, tinkling sound. It was as if Gesar had suddenly been covered with a soft cellophane bag. It was the first time I'd seen a magician use such defensive measures against the ordinary excesses of the elements.

Svetlana continued drawing the Book of Destiny, with her dress billowing out around her. Egor didn't move a muscle, as if he were crucified on an invisible cross. Maybe he couldn't see or understand what was going on. What happens to someone when his old destiny is taken away and he still hasn't been given a new one?

«Gesar, the typhoon you're about to unleash will make this storm look like nothing,» I shouted.

The wind almost drowned out my words.

«That's inevitable,» Gesar replied. He seemed to be speaking in a whisper, but every word was perfectly clear. «It's already happening.»

The Book of Destiny had become visible even in the human world. Of course, Svetlana hadn't been drawing it in the literal sense of the word; she'd been extracting it from the deepest levels of the Twilight. Making a copy, so that any changes she made in it would be reflected in the original. The Book of Destiny looked like a model, a replica, made out of fiery threads of flame hanging motionless in the air. The raindrops sizzled when they touched it.

And now Svetlana would start changing Egor's destiny.

And later, decades later, Egor would change the destiny of the world.

As always, trying to shift it toward the Good.

And, as always, failing.

I staggered. In a single instant, completely without warning, the strong wind had become a hurricane. The scene around me was incredible. I saw cars stop on the avenue up close against the curb—as far away as possible from the trees. A huge billboard collapsed onto an intersection without a single sound—the roaring of the wind completely drowned out the crash. A few little figures made a belated dash for the buildings, as if they hoped to find shelter by the walls.

Svetlana stopped. The red-hot coal was still glowing in her hand.

«Anton!»

I could hardly make out what she was saying.

«Anton, what should I do? Tell me, Anton, should I do this?»

The chalk circle was protecting her but not completely—the clothes were still being torn off her body—but at least it allowed her to stay on her feet.

Everything else seemed to have disappeared. I looked at her, and at the glowing piece of chalk, already poised to change another person's destiny. Svetlana was waiting for an answer, but I had nothing to say to her. Because I didn't know the answer either.

I lifted my arms up toward the raging heavens. I saw the spectral blossoms of Power in my hands.

«Can you handle it?» Zabulon asked sympathetically. «The storm's quite wild already.»

Even through the clamor of the hurricane, I could hear his voice as clearly as the boss's.

Gesar sighed.

I opened my hands and turned the palms toward the sky—the sky where there were no stars, the sky full of dark, roiling clouds, torrents of rain, flashes of lightning.

It was one of the simplest spells. Almost the first one everybody was taught.

Remoralization.

Without any limiting conditions.

«Don't do that!» Gesar shouted. «Don't you dare!»

In one swift movement he dashed across to shield Svetlana and Egor from me. As if that could stop the spell. There was nothing that could stop it now.

A ray of light that human beings couldn't see shot out of my open hands. It was the scraps that I'd gathered so mercilessly from all those people. The scarlet flame of roses, the pale-pink of peonies, the yellow glow of asters, white daisies, and almost black orchids.

Zabulon laughed quietly behind my back.

Svetlana stood there, holding the chalk poised over the Book of Destiny.

Egor was frozen in front of her, with his arms flung out.

Pieces on a chess board. The Power was in my hands. I'd never had so much Power. It was overflowing; I could direct it at absolutely anyone.

I smiled at Svetlana. And very slowly raised my palms with their fountain of rainbow light toward my own face.

«No!»

Zabulon's howl didn't cut through the roar of the hurricane; it completely drowned it. A bolt of lightning flashed through the sky. The leader of the Dark Ones rushed toward me, but Gesar stepped out to meet him, and the Dark Magician stopped. I didn't really see all this, I felt it. My face was enveloped in the shimmering colors. My head was spi

There was nothing left except a rainbow, a never-ending rainbow, and I was drowning in it.

The wind raged all around me without touching me. I looked at Sveta and heard the invisible wall that had always separated us breaking down. Breaking down and forming a protective barrier around us. Her fluttering hair settled gently around her face.

«Did you use it all on yourself?»

«Yes,» I said.

«Everything you collected?»

She still couldn't believe it. Svetlana knew what the price for borrowed Power was.

«Every last drop!» I answered. I had an incredibly light feeling.

«Why?» The sorceress held out her hand toward me. «Why, Anton? When you could have stopped this storm? You could have brought happiness to thousands of people. How could you use it all on yourself?»

«In order to avoid making a mistake,» I explained. I felt slightly embarrassed that a Great Sorceress like her didn't understand such a minor detail.

Svetlana said nothing for a moment. Then she glanced at the piece of chalk glowing in her hand.

«What should I do, Anton?»

«You've already opened the Book of Destiny.»

«Anton! Who's right? Gesar or you?»

I shook my head.

«You decide for yourself.»

Svetlana frowned.

«Anton, is that all? Why did you take so much Light from others? What have you wasted your second-level magic on?»

«Listen to me,» I said, not sure how much conviction there was in my voice. Even now I wasn't entirely convinced myself. «Sometimes the most important thing isn't to do something. Sometimes it's more important to not do anything. Some things you have to decide for yourself, without any advice. From me, or Gesar, or Zabulon, or the Light or the Darkness. All on your own.»

She shook her head.

«No!»

«Yes. You must decide for yourself. And nobody can relieve you of that responsibility. And whatever you do, you'll always regret what you didn't do.»

«Anton, I love you!»

«I know. And I love you. That's why I won't say anything.»

«And you call that love?»

«There isn't any other kind.»

«I need your advice!» she shouted. «Anton, I need your advice!»

«We all create our own destinies,» I said. It was a little bit more than I ought to have said. «Decide.»

The piece of chalk in her hand flared up in a slim needle of fire as she turned back to the Book of Destiny. She swept her hand through the air, and I heard the pages rustling under the blinding eraser.

Light and Darkness are only spots on the pages of destiny. A flourish of the hand. A rapid stroke.

Words of fire streaming across the page.

Svetlana opened her fingers and the chalk of Destiny fell at her feet. As heavily as if it were a lead bullet. The hurricane tumbled it across the roof, but I managed to bend down and put my hand over it.

The Book of Destiny started to dissolve.

Egor staggered, doubled over, and fell on his side, with his knees pulled up to his chest, curled up into a pitiful little bundle.

The white circle around them had been washed away by the rain, and I could walk over to them now. I squatted down and took hold of the boy's shoulders.