Day Watch

Questions. Answers. A brief consultation by the Inquisitors.

"Oksana Dashchiuk, Dark Other, registered in Moscow, is adjudged not guilty of premeditated murder; her actions are categorized as self-defense. But she is found guilty of using excessive force to defend herself and therefore deprived of her license to hunt for a period of ten years. In the event of a repeat offense or any violation of the fifth level or above, she shall be subject to immediate dematerialization. Are there any objections or proposed amendments to the verdict from the Watches?"

Ilya looked at Gesar and rose to his feet again. "We have objections. There was no actual threat to the life of this Other. There was no need to kill the man. We demand that she be deprived of her license for a period of fifty years."

"Thirty," replied Maxim, as if he'd been expecting this demand. And in fact he had been…

"Forty," Gesar said in a cold voice, without getting up. "Shall I present all the necessary grounds?"

"Forty," Maxim agreed. He looked at the Dark Ones, but they didn't intervene, believing quite correctly that the shape-shifter's fate wasn't worth arguing about.

"Release the prisoner from custody…"

The door opened in front of the pale, frightened girl and she dashed out happily, still not realizing that she might as well have been sentenced to execution. Forty years is a very long time for a shape-shifter who can only draw Power from human lives. Long enough for her to grow decrepit and maybe even die, without any way of opposing the implacable advance of age.

"Case number three. An attack on a Dark Other by members of the Night Watch. Since the victim is not present, the court judges it appropriate to cross-examine the surviving guilty parties and the head of the Night Watch, who permitted the un-sanctioned use of force against a Dark Other. All protests from the side of the Light Ones are rejected in advance."

Gesar frowned. Zabulon permitted himself a restrained smile.

Svetlana Nazarova, the Light enchantress, glanced at her watch in concern. She was feeling nervous because the Light magician Anton Gorodetsky was late.

"Might it not be more expedient to establish the reason for the absence of three individuals who were invited to attend?" Gesar asked cautiously, involuntarily adopting the judges' official style of speech. "I assure you that I am not trying to play for time at all. I am alarmed by the absence of a member of the Night Watch and one of the greatest troublemakers in these recent weeks."

The Inquisitors exchanged glances as if they were silently taking an official decision.

"The Inquisition has no objection," Maxim said in a dispassionate voice. "Permission is granted for the necessary magical intervention."

The Inquisition observers' robes swayed as they moved their protective amulets. Maybe that was why they wore the robes, so that no one could see how they used the amulets and exactly what kind of amulets they had? The Inquisition has its own methods; its own laws, and its own weapons…

An observation sphere sprang into sight in midair. Gray haze, streaked with wavy lines. Most of them disappeared, leaving only three.

Three threads of fate that had recently crossed at a single point. One thread was faded and barely glowing at all. An Other was hurt…

"That's Shagron," said Edgar, who had now relinquished the responsibilities of deputy chief of the Dark Ones. "That's Shagron!"

The two other threads parted, but they were about to cross again at any moment-right outside the University building.

A clash. Another clash between Dark Ones and Light Ones. But so far with no fatalities.

"The Night Watch requests the Inquisition to intervene!" Gesar barked. "Maxim, Oscar, Raoul-they'll kill each other!"

A woman stood up beside the head of the Night Watch-it was the Light Other Olga, who had only recently reacquired her abilities as an enchantress, and a very powerful one, which meant that she had lost her right to a surname, but not yet acquired the right to a Twilight name. She touched Gesar's elbow and looked at the judges inquiringly.

Svetlana had turned pale and her face looked as if it were made out of wax.

The Dark Ones didn't say anything. Zabulon scratched the tip of his nose thoughtfully.

"The Tribunal forbids any intervention," one of the judges a

"Why?" Svetlana asked helplessly. She tried to get up out of her light wicker armchair, but she didn't have the strength. The physical strength. But Svetlana's real strength, the magical Power of an Other, began circling around her in a dense spiral.

Just like people, when Others are angry, or in extreme situations, they are often stronger than when they're calm.

"Why?" Svetlana's voice rang out insistently. "Everywhere this Dark One has appeared, Others or people have died. He's a killer! Are you going to allow him to carry on killing?"

The judge remained imperturbable. "While he has been in Moscow the Dark One Vitaly Rogoza has not once violated a single stipulation of the Treaty, and he has not once exceeded the limits of permissible force to defend himself. He has nothing to answer to the Inquisition for. We have no grounds to intervene."

"When the grounds appear, it will be too late!" Gesar said harshly.

The Inquisitor merely shrugged.

"He's going to take revenge for Shagron," one of the Light Ones said quietly and coughed.

Two magicians-a Light One and a Dark One-were approaching the entrance to the Moscow University building, and as the distance between them melted away, everyone at the Tribunal felt more and more certain that only one of them would make it up into the turret. But who would it be?

I don't know why but I got out of the car about three hundred meters away from the entrance to the university building. I could see spots of color, rays of light, and three-dimensional figures flickering above the building; I could sense that a power I didn't understand was restraining ordinary higher magic, not allowing it to be used. And I sensed that up there at the very top, just where the sharp steeple of the Moscow skyscraper began, there was a light gray cloud gradually swelling, and it reminded me of a time bomb.

I looked around as I set off along the sidewalk. In theory I ought to have been hurrying, but I walked at a medium pace. That must have been the way I was supposed to do it.

Just don't ask who had decided that.

My mini-disk player was oozing out another melody. I didn't like it, so I found the skip button by touch and pressed it. What would it be this time?

My name is an effaced hieroglyph,

My clothes are patched by the wind…

What I carry in my tight-clenched hands,

No one asks, and I will not answer…

The band Picnic and their song "Hieroglyph." That would do-a leisurely melody for someone who is already late anyway and whose only option now is to focus his mind and acquire the all-embracing, imperturbable calm of the sages of the East.

I wondered if there were any Others among those sages? Or maybe the question should be put the other way around-were there any human beings among them?

It would be interesting to find out…

I managed to adjust the security guards' minds-clearly the simplest, everyday spells were permitted even during a session of the Tribunal.

I walked across to the elevators-the vestibule was strangely deserted. Maybe subconsciously the people had sensed the presence nearby of all the most powerful Others in Moscow and were avoiding coming to this place? I pressed the button and the doors of one of the elevators opened immediately. I got out, automatically looking around to see if anyone else was hurrying for the elevator…

And I saw Anton. He'd just walked past the security guards, who were still out of action.