As he was walking into the airport terminal, Edgar got a call from another senior Day Watch magician – the magician that his colleagues knew as Yury although he could obviously have used a Twilight name quite openly. Shagron had one for his special services to the Watch. And Yury was significantly more powerful and much older than Shagron.
‘Hi, Edgar. On your way to Prague?’
‘What of it?’ Edgar asked, Odessa-style.
‘Listen, and don’t interrupt. I know a thing or two about the boss’s plans. And why you’re being sent there. It’s not all as simple and clear-cut as it seems. A number of Light Ones are leaving for Prague today and tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Gesar himself follows in a few days. There are signs that the Light Ones are setting up a large-scale operation. And of course, Zabulon is planning an appropriate response. So you just be careful. Especially while you’re travelling.’
Yury stopped, as if expecting a reply from Edgar, but Edgar said nothing – he remembered he’d been told not to interrupt. He just reached into the Twilight, attempting to locate Zabulon – but he couldn’t find any trace of the chief He couldn’t tell where he was, what secret cranny he might be lurking in, what deep level of the Twilight he might be roaming. The most powerful magicians had their own paths and their own motives, incomprehensible to those around them.
‘You remember the boss sent Alisa Donnikova on holiday?’ Yury went on. ‘Remember what happened to her. Of course, you want to know why I’m telling you all this, so I’ll tell you. Because I’m a Dark One. And also because I’ve worked with you for a while already. Think what you like, but I’d prefer to see you as a live, healthy Other, and not just another shadow in the Twilight. See you, Edgar.’
Edgar stood there for a while, thoughtfully squeezing the mobile in his hand. Then he put it back on his belt, picked up his briefcase and set off for the ticket desks.
‘Dark!’ the magician thought to himself. ‘What was that? A warning of some kind? And obviously behind Zabulon’s back. And he brought up that business with Alisa?’
Zabulon had simply sacrificed the witch Alisa. Coldly and without any unnecessary pity. Like a pawn in a game of chess. In the games played between the Watches it was absurd to develop any feelings for the faceless figures on the board, but Others know how to feel and love as well. Edgar felt genuinely sorry for Alisa, but he wouldn’t have lifted a finger to save her, not even if he had known everything in advance. Every game has its own inflexible rules, set once and for all. And nobody who has joined in a game can ever withdraw from it, or defy the rules. The witch Alisa had made her exit, and the witch Alita had made her entry. The law of conservation of energy in action. In fact, Alita even promised to be more likeable.
Edgar brainwashed the girl at the desk on autopilot, still absorbed in his own thoughts. They gave him a little blue booklet with his ticket and cancelled the ticket of some other unfortunate passenger. Unfortunately, he would just have to take a later flight. Because in the world of people and Others, it was the latter who made the rules. ‘Why did Yury feel the need to warn me?’ Edgar wondered as he stood at a bar counter with a glass of beer that was very expensive, but not very good. ‘Surely not out of altruism? Nobody breaks the rules of the game that way.’
He recalled that when Zabulon left Moscow, he hadn’t left Yury or Nikolai as his deputy in charge, although they were the Day Watch’s next most powerful Dark Magicians. He had appointed Edgar, who was substantially less powerful than either of them. Yury had been acknowledged as a magician beyond classification back in the nineteenth century, and Nikolai just recently, after the war. Edgar still hadn’t even reached first grade, and if he was honest, he hadn’t even fully mastered the second grade. Sure, Edgar was a powerful magician. He was certainly more powerful than most of the Others in Moscow, Dark or Light. But he still couldn’t equal Yury or Nikolai.
So why had Zabulon done that? Was Yury trying to take petty revenge? Out of mere envy? Trying to scare him or even (you could never tell!) simply having a joke at his upstart colleague’s expense?
And the way Edgar had been brought in from Estonia had been hasty and illogical too. There he was, living a quiet life up in the small Baltic country running its small, sleepy Day Watch and then – suddenly – the urgent summons to Moscow, the mad scramble to get his successor in Tallinn up to scratch – he was a classic ‘hot-headed Estonian boy’, barely even fourth grade. Edgar ought to give him a call, by the way. And then what had happened in Moscow? Edgar had been thrown straight into the crucible of a hectic two-week operation, and then, not long after that, he’d taken part in a wild cavalry raid to rescue a witch, who’d been practising without a licence, from the Light Ones. And that was all. After that, there’d been more than three months of routine work until the middle of November, when he’d suddenly been appointed acting chief of the Day Watch while Zabulon was away, and then there’d been the appearance of the Mirror and the Tribunal at Moscow University.
If he thought about it, it was quite possible that the old Day Watch magicians would try to teach this newcomer from the Baltic a lesson, because he was making a career for himself too fast, but they could hardly believe he was actually intriguing to take over from the boss. Zabulon didn’t leave Moscow very often. And when Zabulon was there, Edgar was no more than just another operational agent. A powerful one, of course, an elite operative. But he only had the same rights as the others.
By the time his glass was empty Edgar had decided to stop guessing at the reasons behind it all. His best bet was to try to plan a line of action that took account of … of everything. Even the very wildest possibilities.
All right. What was it that had done for Alisa? She hadn’t gathered enough power in time. She hadn’t recognised the Light Other, even though he was so close to her. She hadn’t refused a duel that she was certain to lose. And most important of all – she’d given way to her emotions. She’d tried to appeal to a Light One’s feelings.
Well, then, Edgar wasn’t short of power, and Zabulon had even given him some of his own. The two amulets were a real treasure house of power. Especially the one charged with the Transylvanian Mist. If Edgar used that one, every Other in Europe would sense the monstrous discharge of energy. Plus the battle wand – a highly specialised weapon, but it was fast and reliable. Shahab’s Lash was nobody’s idea of a joke.
That meant Edgar had to keep as close an eye as possible on the Light Ones. Oh yes, the Light Ones … Just at that moment there were three of them in Sheremetievo. First there was his old friend from previous operations, Anton Gorodetsky, who lower-level Dark Ones had nicknamed ‘Zabulon’s favourite’. In that business with the Mirror for some reason he’d done just what Zabulon wanted, and helped the Dark Ones. Or had he just made everyone think he helped the Dark Ones? Probably that was it – otherwise how could he have stayed on in the Night Watch?
Second, there was a middle-aged female healer who had no connection with the Night Watch, thoughtfully sniffing perfumes in the duty-free shop. It was probably just coincidence that she happened to be travelling that day.
Third, there was a militiaman who was an Other on duty at the check-in. As there was supposed to be in any airport.
Apart from Edgar himself, there were four Dark Ones in the international terminal of Sheremetievo-2: his charges, the trio of Regin Brothers, who kept staring guardedly by turns at Edgar and Anton, who had installed himself in the bar at the far end of the hall; plus a low-grade magician over by the gambling machines who was paying no attention to anything. He seemed to be trying to earn a bit of extra cash by getting the mechanism to pay out the maximum winnings. His kind was perfectly described by the phrase ‘cheap trash’.