Twilight Watch

"The old hag has her principles, Anton. She can bluff with the best, but she would never touch a child. Trust me, I know her."

"And what if her nerve cracked?" I asked, recalling the horrors I'd been through. "She couldn't give a damn for the Watches, not even with the Inquisition thrown in. She's not even afraid of Zabulon."

"Maybe not Zabulon…" Gesar chuckled. "I informed the Inquisition about Arina, but I contacted the witch as well. All official and above board, by the way. Everything's minuted. And she was warned about your family. Specially warned."

This was unexpected news.

I looked into Gesar's calm face and didn't know what to say to him.

"Arina and I have known and respected each other for a long time," Gesar explained.

"How did you manage that?"

"What exactly?" Gesar asked in surprise. "Mutual respect? Well, you see…"

"Every time I'm convinced that you're a villainous schemer, in just ten minutes you prove that I'm wrong. We're parasites on people? It turns out that it's all for their own good. The country's in ruins? Things could have been a lot worse. My daughter's in danger? She's in about as much danger as little Sasha Pushkin with his old na

Gesar's expression softened.

"Anton, a long, long time ago, I was a puny, snot-nosed kid." He looked thoughtfully straight through me. "Yes. Puny and snot-nosed. And when I quarrelled with my mentors, whose names wouldn't mean anything to you, I was convinced that they were villainous schemers too. But then they always convinced me I was wrong. The centuries have gone by, and now I have my own pupils…"

He blew out a cloud of smoke and stopped. What point was there in going on, anyway?

Centuries? Ha! Thousands of years-long enough to learn how to counter any outbursts from his subordinates. And do it so they would arrive fuming in indignation and leave filled with love and respect for their boss. Experience is a powerful thing. Far more powerful than magic.

"I'd really like to see you when you're not wearing any mask, boss," I said.

Gesar smiled benignly.

"Tell me one thing at least-was your son an Other?" I asked.

"Or did you make him into an Other? I understand all that stuff about how the secret can't be revealed, it's better for everyone to think…"

Gesar's fist came crashing down onto the table. And Gesar himself half-stood, leaning forward over his desk. "How long are you going to carry on harping on that subject?" he barked. "Yes, Olga and I duped the Inquisition and won the right to remoralize Timur. He would have become a Dark One, and I couldn't have that. Is that clear? Go and report me to the Inquisition if you like. But drop this crazy nonsense."

For a brief moment I felt afraid. But Gesar started striding around his office again and gesticulating energetically, with his feet constantly coming out of his slippers.

"It's impossible to turn a human being into an Other. Impossible. There's no way. Would you like me to tell you the truth about your wife and daughter? Olga intervened in Svetlana's destiny. She used the second half of the Chalk of Destiny for her. But not even the Chalk of Destiny could have transformed your unborn daughter into an Other if she wasn't going to have been born an Other anyway. We only made her even more powerful, gave her absolute Power."

"I know," I said with a nod.

"How?" Gesar asked, astonished.

"Arina gave me a hint."

"She's a smart one." Gesar nodded. And then he immediately lowered his voice again. "That's it. Now you know everything there is to know on the subject. A human being ca

"Boris Ignatievich," I began, not knowing myself why I used his Russian name, "Forgive me if I'm talking nonsense. But I can't understand how you could have failed to find Timur earlier. He was your son and Olga's. Shouldn't you have been able to sense him? Even from a distance?"

At this point Gesar suddenly wilted. A strange expression of simultaneous guilt and confusion appeared on his face.

"Anton, I may be an old plotter…" He paused. "But do you really think I would allow my own son to grow up in a state orphanage, in poverty and suffering? Do you think I don't long for a little warmth and affection? To feel human? To play with my baby, to go to a soccer match with my little boy, to teach my teenager how to shave, to accept my young man into the Watch? Just name one reason why I would have allowed my son to live and grow old so far away from me? Am I a bad father, a heartless old fogey? Maybe so. But then why did I decide to make him into an Other? Why would I want all that hassle?"

"But why didn't you find him sooner?" I exclaimed.

"Because when he was born he was a perfectly ordinary child. Not a trace of any Other potential."

"It happens," I said doubtfully.

Gesar nodded. "You have doubts? Even I have doubts… I ought to have been able to sense even rudimentary traces of Power in Timur. But there weren't any…"

He spread his arms hopelessly. Then he sat down and muttered, "So don't go putting down any imaginary miracles to me. I can't make Others out of ordinary people." He paused, then suddenly added in a passionate voice. "But you're right. I ought to have sensed him sooner. Okay, sometimes we only realize a stranger is an Other when he's already old. But my own son? The little boy I dandled in my arms, the boy I dreamed of seeing as an Other? I don't know. The initial signs must have been too weak… or else I must have gone crazy…"

"There is another possibility," I said uncertainly.

Gesar looked at me suspiciously and shrugged. "There's always more than one. What do you mean?"

"Someone knows how to transform ordinary people into Others. That someone found Timur and turned him into a potential Other. And after that you sensed him…"

"Olga sensed him," Gesar growled,

"All right, Olga sensed him. And then you swung into action. You thought you were duping the Inquisition and the Dark Ones. But it was you who was being duped."

Gesar snorted.

"Just try to accept, for one moment, that a human being can be turned into an Other!" I pleaded with him.

"But why was it done?" Gesar asked. "I'm willing to believe the whole thing, but just show me the reasons for it. To set Olga and me up for a fall? It doesn't look like it. Everything went without a hitch."

"I don't know," I admitted. And as I stood up, I added vindictively, "But if I were you I wouldn't let my guard down, boss. You're used to your own plot being the subtlest. But there's always more than one possibility."

"Smart ass…" Gesar said, frowning. "You get on back to Sveta… hang on."

He put his hand into the pocket of his dressing gown and took out his cell phone. It wasn't ringing, just vibrating nervously.

"Just a moment…" Gesar said, with a nod to me. And then he spoke into the phone, in a different voice: "Yes!"

I considerately moved away toward the cupboards and started studying the magical trinkets. Okay, so little figures of monsters might serve to summon up the real thing. But what did he need a Tatar whip for? Something like Shahab's Lash?