Anton nodded.
‘Believe me, I had good reason to install them. And sound security arrangements in a crowded place would be far more complicated. I don’t think I can really afford to waste that much power at the moment.’ Gesar rubbed his hand across his face and sighed. He looked really tired, all right. ‘By the way take this. A little present.’
Anton accepted the small object from his boss’s hands with a surprised expression. It was something like a globe: a ball that was made out of thin needles of bone … yes it was bone … bent into arcs and stuck into two little discs of wood at the poles. The ball was empty … But no, it wasn’t. It was full of power. Power that was dormant, constrained.
‘What is it?’ Anton asked, almost in a panic.
‘Don’t worry. It’s not liquefied bliss.’
‘Er, what’s liquefied bliss?’
Gesar sighed:
‘How should I know? It was a joke. A figure of speech. A turn of phrase. A metaphor. I’m not even sure that bliss exists, let alone whether it can be liquefied. What you’re holding in your hands is something like a magical white noise generator. If you need to have an absolutely – let me emphasise that – absolutely secret conversation, one that nobody can listen into, no matter what means they use, simply break the ball in your hand. You’ll probably cut your hand, but that’s just the unavoidable price. But then for the next twelve hours there’ll be no way anyone can monitor or check what’s happening in a sphere ten metres across, with you at the centre, no matter what technical or magical means they use.’
‘Thanks,’ Anton said gloomily. ‘Somehow a present like this fails to inspire me.’
‘You’ll thank me for it yet. So, will you have a beer or not?’
‘Yes. But why does it have to be beer?’
‘To avoid too serious a violation of my own rules,’ Gesar said with a contented smile. ‘We’re at work, after all.’
He pressed a button on the intercom and said quietly:
‘Olya, bring us some beer.’
Nothing in the world was going to surprise Anton now. But Gesar released the button and explained anyway.
‘Galochka’s a magnificent secretary. But she’s a fourth-grade enchantress. And she could give information away to the enemy without even realising it. So just for today I changed my secretary.’
A minute later Olga came in. With a tray on which there were two immense glass jugs full of pale beer, an impressive crystal jug holding about two litres of the same, and a plate with an assortment of cheeses.
‘Hi there, Antoshka,’ Olga said in a very friendly tone of voice. ‘You like Budvar, don’t you?’
‘What Light One doesn’t like light Czech beer?’ Anton asked, trying to make a joke. It fell flat, but even attempting a pun was quite something. He hadn’t felt up to that for ages.
‘How’s Sveta doing?’ Olga asked, still in the same tone.
Anton gritted his teeth. The weight that had fallen from his heart returned for a moment.
‘Still the same.’
‘Nothing?’
Anton nodded.
‘I’ll call round to see her this evening,’ Olga told him. ‘I think she’s ready for visitors now. And I’ll find some way to make her feel better … trust me.’
It was true. Who better to console a Great Enchantress who had lost her magic powers for a long time than another Great Enchantress who had once been deprived of her powers for many decades as punishment for a misdemeanour?
‘Yes, come round, Olya,’ said Anton. ‘Sveta will be very glad to see you.’
Gesar cleared his throat gently.
‘You’ve got plenty of time,’ Olga snapped. ‘Anton, you know … I wish you luck. I sincerely wish you luck.’
‘Luck with what?’ Anton asked, puzzled.
Instead of answering, Olga leaned down over him and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
‘Well now!’ was all Gesar could find to say.
‘Ever since Anton and I swapped bodies,’ Olga remarked casually, ‘you don’t really have any right to be jealous of me with him. And especially over such a tiny thing. Right boys! Behave yourselves, don’t drink too much, and if there are any problems – call me.’
‘Any problems?’ Gesar echoed with a frown. But Olga was already on her way out. The Great Magician watched her go and when the door closed, he sighed and said:
‘Living with a Great Enchantress is a real ordeal. Even for me. How do you manage it, Anton?’
‘Svetlana didn’t have time to become a genuinely Great Enchantress,’ Anton remarked. He picked up one of the jugs and took a mouthful of beer. It was excellent. Just the way real beer ought to be.
‘But you’re glad of that, surely?’ Gesar inquired.
‘No.’ Anton took a piece of strong goat’s cheese. ‘I’m not.’
‘Why not?’ Gesar asked with gentle curiosity. ‘Now you have several decades of happy life as equals ahead of you. Ideally fifty years.’
‘Gesar, what happiness can there be if the woman I love feels like a worthless cripple?’ Anton asked sharply. ‘And if it’s my fault, at least partly.’
‘Partly?’
Anton nodded:
‘Yes, exactly. Partly.’
Gesar paused. Then he asked the question Anton had been expecting three weeks earlier and had already ceased to expect.
‘Tell me, what happened between you and Zabulon?’
‘He came to my apartment again. Like the first time.’
‘And he entered with the help of your vampire friend again?’ Gesar inquired.
‘No, after the other time I closed my home to him. I simply don’t understand how Zabulon could have got through.’
Gesar nodded and took a drink of beer.
‘Then Zabulon suggested I should commit … an act of betrayal. He said that Vitaly Rogoza was a Mirror-Magician created by the Twilight in response to the increasing strength of the Night Watch. That his main goal was to kill Svetlana or deprive her of her powers. And if I was late for the session of the Inquisition, then Rogoza would strip Svetlana of her power and dematerialise.’
‘And you agreed?’
Anton thought before he formulated his answer. He’d run through this conversation with Gesar plenty of times in his head. But he’d never found the right words.
‘Gesar, the only other alternative would have been continuing confrontation. Obviously either Svetlana would have been killed, or …’
‘Or?’ Gesar was clearly interested.
‘Or many others would have been killed … weaker members of the Watch. To weaken us to the same extent overall.’
Gesar nodded.
‘You worked it out for yourself?’
‘No, not entirely. I dug around in the archives and found a few similar cases, one of which ended with the annihilation of the entire Kiev division of the Night Watch, apart from its leader, Alexander von Kissel. That time, the Mirror’s target was apparently von Kissel, but he managed to protect himself. The result was that ordinary operatives and magicians died.’
‘But why didn’t you contact me?’ Gesar asked. ‘Why didn’t you warn me about Zabulon’s visit?’
‘How could I know what he was expecting to happen? Maybe just that – for me to go rushing to you for advice. Zabulon was clearly trying to trick me, but I couldn’t work out what the trap was. It could have been a mistake to contact you, or to keep quiet. So I chose a third way. I tried to prevent the Mirror getting to Svetlana. Using a very primitive method – I rammed his car.’