Twilight Watch

"We'll divide into two groups," he said, moving straight into command mode. "You,"-he nodded in the direction of the Inquisitors-"are staying in this car. Take the conductors' compartment and compartment one-that's six places. Askhat will settle you in… ask him for anything you need, don't be shy. And don't take any positive action on your own, don't play the amateur detective. Behave like… like people. Report on the situation to me every three hours… or as necessary. We'll be in car number seven."

The Inquisitors filed silently out of the lobby after the smiling conductor. Edgar turned to Kostya and me. "We'll take compartment four in car number seven. We can regard it as our temporary base. Let's go."

"Have you come up with a plan yet, chief?" Kostya inquired. I couldn't tell if he was being ironic or sincere.

Edgar looked at him for a second, clearly also wondering whether it was a genuine question or just a jibe. But he answered anyway. "If I have a plan, you'll hear about it. In good time. Meanwhile I want to get a cup of coffee and two or three hours' sleep. In that order."

Kostya and I set off after Edgar. The vampire gri

The car that the captain rides in is the top spot in the whole train. The air conditioners always work there. The boiler is always full of hot water, and the conductor always has a fresh brew of tea ready. Finally, it's clean, even in the Central Asian trains, and they give out the sheets in sealed packs-they really have been laundered after the previous run. The toilets work in both washrooms, and you can boldly go in there without rubber boots.

And to complete the passengers' simple happiness, the restaurant car is hitched on at one side of the captain's car. And the sleeper car-if there is one in the train-is on the other side.

The Moscow-Almaty train did have a sleeper car. We walked through it, glancing curiously at the passengers. They were mostly solemn, well-fed Kazakhs, almost all with briefcases that they kept with them even in the corridor. Some of them were already drinking tea from bright-colored bowls, others were setting out sliced meat and bottles on the little table and breaking boiled chickens into pieces. But most of them were still standing in the corridor, watching the Moscow suburbs slide past.

I wondered what they were feeling, these citizens of a newly independent country, as they gazed at their former capital. Were they really content with their independence? Or could they possibly be feeling nostalgic?

I didn't know. You couldn't ask them, and if you did, you couldn't be sure they'd answer honestly. And breaking into their minds to make them answer honestly wasn't our style.

It would be better anyway if they were happy and proud-of their own independence, their own statehood, their own corruption. Especially since not so long before at the three hundredth a

Let them be happy. Let everyone feel good. The Petersburgians, delighted with their a

Just for a moment, quite unexpectedly, I felt disgusted. Not with the Kazakh passengers, and not with my fellow Russians. Just with people. With all the people in the world. What did we in the Night Watch think we were doing? Divide and protect? Nonsense! Not a single Dark One, not a single Day Watch, caused people as much harm as they caused themselves. What was one hungry vampire compared to the average maniac who raped and murdered little girls in elevators? What was one hardhearted witch who put a hex on someone for money, compared with a humane president who launched his high-accuracy rockets for the sake of oil?

A plague on both your houses…

I stopped in the lobby and let Kostya go ahead. Then I froze, staring at the filthy floor, already littered with the first dozen stinking cigarette butts.

What was wrong with me?

Were these my thoughts?

I couldn't pretend they weren't. They were mine, not anyone else's. No one had snuck into my mind, not even a Higher Other could have done that without my noticing.

It was me, the way I really was.

A former human being.

A Light Other who was burned out, disillusioned with everything in the world.

This was how you wound up in the Inquisition. When you stopped being able to see any difference between Light Ones and Dark Ones. When for you, people weren't even a flock of sheep, but just a handful of spiders in a glass jar. When you stopped believing in the future, and all you wanted to do was preserve the status quo. For yourself. For those few individuals who were still dear to you.

"No, I refuse," I said, as if I were pronouncing an oath, as if I were holding up a shield against the invisible enemy-against myself. "I refuse! You have… no power… over me… Anton Gorodetsky!"

On the other side of two doors and four thick panes of glass, Kostya turned and gave me a puzzled look. Had he heard? Or was he simply wondering why I'd stopped?

I forced a smile, opened the door, and stepped into the rumbling concertina of the short bridge co

The captain's car really was a classy place. Clean rugs on the floor; a carpet ru

"Who's sleeping up top, and who's down below?" Edgar asked briskly.

"It's all the same to me," Kostya replied.

"I'd rather be up top," I said.

"Me too," said Edgar with a nod. "That's agreed, then."

There was a polite knock at the door.

"Yes!" The Inquisitor didn't even turn his head.

It was the captain of the train, carrying a tray with a nickel-plated kettle full of hot water, a teapot with strong brew, cups, some wafer biscuits, and even a carton of cream. A big, strapping, serious-looking man, with a bushy moustache and a uniform that was a perfect fit.

But the expression on his face was as dull and stupid as a newborn puppy's.

"Enjoy your tea, dear guests."

Clear enough. He was under the influence of the amulet as well. The fact that Edgar was a Dark One did have some effect on his methods, after all.

"Thank you. Inform us of everyone who got on in Moscow and gets off along the way, my dear man," said Edgar, taking the tray. "Especially those who get off before they reach their stop."

"It will be done, your honor," the captain of the train nodded.

Kostya giggled.

I waited until the poor man had gone out, and asked, "Why 'your honor'?"

"How should I know?" Edgar said with a shrug. "The amulet induces people to accept instructions. But who they see me as- an auditor, the girl they love, a well-known actor, or Generalissimus Stalin-that's their problem. This guy must have been reading too much Akunin. Or watching old movies."