Day Watch

"We'll drink a mug of beer for him," Yari suggested.

"Three mugs," Yukha added. "He was the most worthy of the Regin Brothers."

"And what about us?" Yari asked after a moment's thought.

"We are worthy too," Yukha agreed. "We did our duty."

For some reason when he said this all three of them lowered their eyes.

The small sect of Dark Others that called itself the Regin Brothers had existed in Helsinki for almost five hundred years. They were among the small number of Others who had not officially accepted the Treaty, but since they never committed any serious violations of its provisions, the Watches turned a blind eye to this. The Light Ones even seemed to be quite glad that twenty or thirty Dark Ones occupied themselves with harmless rituals, chanting, and archaeological explorations. The Dark Ones had made a couple of attempts to involve the Regin Brothers in the work of the Day Watch, but then they just gave up on them.

Until only recently Yukha, Yari, Raivo, and their friend who had been killed, Pasi Ollikainen, had regarded their involvement in the sect as a kind of curious, even amusing game. Their grandfathers and great-grandfathers had spent their entire lives as members of the sect, and their children would be Regin Brothers too… Their adopted children, that is. An Other is rarely fortunate enough to have a child who is also born with the abilities of an Other. That's only the norm for the lower Dark Ones, the vampires and shape-shifters…

It wasn't at all easy for the magicians of the small Fi

Raivo, for instance, came from Burkina Faso. The little boy with the bulging eyes, legs bandy from rickets, and a swollen, flabby stomach had been bought from his poor parents for fourteen dollars. He had been cured of his illness, educated, and taught Fi

Yari had been found in the slums of Macao. At the age of four, with the help of his magical abilities, he was already a remarkably successful thief, which was how he was discovered by his future adoptive parents. They hadn't even had to pay anything for him. Yari hadn't grown very tall, but the Regin Brothers had been delighted with his sharp, tenacious mind and natural talent for magic.

Then there was Yukha, from Russia. Or rather, from somewhere in the south of Ukraine. He had suffered from wanderlust since he was a child, and at the age of seven he had traveled right across the country by jumping freight trains and hitchhiking, then crossed the border on foot, and one day he'd knocked on the door of the small townhouse owned by the Mustajokis, devoted members of the sect. There was no way that could be explained except by magical predestination.

By a wicked irony of fate, only the deceased Ollikainen had been a genuine Fi

The driver had never had such a strange group of passengers before-a young white guy with Ukrainian facial features, a tall guy with skin as black as pitch, and a short Asiatic with slanting eyes. And all three of them were speaking Fi

The first thing the Brothers did at the airport was study the timetable, but even here Russia 's muddleheaded cu

"We'll take the Duisburg plane," Yukha decided at last. "It's more convenient. And we won't have to wait so long. They'll postpone the Prague flight another three times at least, won't they?"

Of course they would. The reality lines were woven into a tight knot, and the ill-fated flight wouldn't leave until late that evening.

The almost forgotten sensation of freedom was as intoxicating as their favorite Lapin Kulta beer. While Yukha was talking to the pretty girl at the ticket desk (who was already hassled out of her mind), Yari and Raivo enjoyed themselves staring around the large hall, looking at the passengers walking by, the sales assistants in the brightly lit aquariums of their little shops, the international airline offices that are always there in any major airport…

It was Yari who spotted the Other.

"Look!"

There was a Light magician standing at a counter near the exit to the boarding gates, drinking coffee from a small, dark green cup. And there was a half-empty travel bag lying beside his tall stool.

Yari and Raivo studied the Light One's aura for a while-he was perfectly composed and completely in control of his emotions. He must have noticed them, but he didn't give any sign.

"When are they ever going to leave us in peace?" Raivo sighed.

"Do you think he's following us?"

"Of course," Raivo said with conviction. "We have to present ourselves at a session of the Tribunal. And the Moscow Night Watch has to be certain that the witnesses they released have left for Prague. You'll see, he'll follow us all the way to the boarding ramp."

"But there's almost five hours left until our flight."

"The Other's in no hurry. He's working."

Yukha joined them with the tickets. There was a faint breath of magic coming from him-of course there hadn't been any tickets left for today's flight, so he'd had some taken from the special reserve by influencing the girl at the desk and the airport manager.

"Here, take them…" he began, but suddenly broke off. He looked closely at the other Brothers and asked, "What's wrong?"

"A spy. Over there at the counter, drinking coffee."

Yukha looked and saw the Light Other.

And just at that moment a murky red stripe cut across the even azure tone of the spy's aura.

"Something's upset him," Yari said

"Another One!" said Raivo. "Over there, by the way out!"

There was a dark-haired, stocky man aged thirty-something standing right beside the glass doors, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief with one hand, and holding a cell phone to his ear with the other. He wasn't saying anything, either, but obviously listening to lengthy instructions from someone. There was a small black briefcase standing beside him.

This Other was a Dark magician.

"And they're following us too," muttered Raivo.

"Why would anyone be interested in us?" Yukha asked doubtfully. "Any number of Others could have business at Moscow 's international airport!"

"Remain vigilant, brother!" Yari reminded him. "Fafnir is saddened and alarmed by carelessness."

Yukha thought gloomily that after the hopeless failure of the operation to deliver the Talon to Moscow, the resurrected Fafnir ought to incinerate all four of them. Or at least the three survivors. But, as usual, he didn't say anything out loud.

Meanwhile the Light One finished his coffee, cast a glance of displeasure at the Dark One, and set off in the general direction of the restaurant. His aura had returned to its even azure color, with a barely visible hint of cherry-red where the stripe had been.