‘He wouldn’t have to trick me,’ Anton said firmly. ‘There’d be no need. If such a situation arises, I’m prepared to sacrifice myself. Every one of us is.’
‘And what if he can’t tell you anything about it?’ Edgar laughed, delighted. ‘So the enemy won’t find out, so you’ll behave more naturally, so you won’t suffer unnecessarily. After all, it’s Gesar’s responsibility to preserve your peace of mind as well.’
He raised the next mug of beer with a satisfied expression and sucked in the foam noisily.
‘You’re a Dark One,’ said Anton. ‘All you see in everything is evil, treachery, trickery.’
‘All I do is not to close my eyes to them,’ Edgar retorted. ‘And that’s why I don’t trust Zabulon. I distrust him almost as much as I do Gesar. I can even trust you more – you’re just another unfortunate chess piece who happens by chance to be painted a different colour from me. Does a white pawn hate a black one? No. Especially if the two pawns have their heads down together over a quiet beer or two.’
‘You know,’ Anton said, slightly surprised, ‘I just don’t understand how you can carry on living if you see the world like that. I’d just go and hang myself.’
‘So you don’t have any counterarguments to offer?’
Anton took a gulp of beer too. The wonderful thing about this natural Czech beer was that even if you drank lots of it, it still didn’t make your head or your body feel heavy. Or was that an illusion?
‘Not one,’ Anton admitted. ‘Right now, at this very moment, not a single one. But I’m sure you’re wrong. It’s just difficult to argue about the colours of a rainbow with a blind man. There’s something missing in you. I don’t know what exactly. But it’s something very important, and without it you’re more helpless than a blind man.’
‘Why am I?’ Edgar protested, somewhat offended. ‘It’s you Light Ones who are helpless. Bound hand and foot by your own ethical dogmas. And those who have moved up onto the higher levels of development, like Gesar, control you.’
‘I’ll try to answer that,’ said Anton. ‘But not right now. We’ll be seeing each other again.’
‘Avoiding the question?’ Edgar asked, laughing.
‘No, It’s just that we decided not to talk about work. Didn’t we?’
Edgar didn’t answer. The Light One really had got him there. Why had he bothered getting into such a useless argument? You can’t paint a white dog black, as they said in the Day Watch.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It’s my fault, I admit it. Only …’
‘Only it’s very hard not to talk about the things that separate us,’ Anton said with a nod. ‘I understand. It’s not your fault … it’s destiny.’
He rummaged in his pockets and took out a packet of cigarettes. Edgar couldn’t help noticing that they were cheap ones, 21st Century, made in Russia. Well, well. A Dark Magician of his grade could afford all the pleasures of life. But Anton smoked Russian cigarettes, and maybe it was no accident that he’d ended up in this small, cosy restaurant that was so inexpensive?
‘Where is it you’re staying?’ he asked.
‘The Kafka Hotel,’ Anton answered. ‘That’s in Zizkov, Cimburkova Street.
That fitted, all right, it was a small, second-rate hotel. Edgar nodded as he watched the Light One light up. It looked awkward somehow, as if he hadn’t been smoking long or didn’t smoke very often.
‘And you’re in the Hilton, aren’t you?’ Anton suddenly said. ‘Or the Radisson-SAS at the very worst?’
‘Are you following me?’ Edgar asked, suddenly on his guard again.
‘No. It’s just that all Dark Ones are so fond of famous brands and expensive hotels. You’re predictable too.’
‘So what?’ Edgar said defiantly. ‘Are you a believer in asceticism and the poor life?’
Anton looked round ironically at the restaurant, the pathetic remains of his leg of pork on the knife-scarred wooden board, his latest mug of beer – how many had there been? It didn’t seem as if he even needed to answer, but he did:
‘No, I’m not arguing that. But the number of rooms and staff that a hotel has isn’t the most important thing. Nor are the prices on the menu. I could have stayed at the Hilton too, and drunk beer at the most expensive pub in Prague. But what for? And you – why did you come to this place? Not exactly five star, is it?’
‘It’s comfortable here,’ Edgar admitted. ‘And the food’s good.’
‘See what I mean?’
In a sudden fit of drunken magnanimity, Edgar exclaimed:
‘That’s it! I think I’ve got it! That’s what the difference between us is. You try to limit your natural requirements. Maybe it’s some kind of modesty. But we’re more extravagant, yes … With power, money, financial and human resources …’
‘People are not a resource!’ Anton’s eyes were suddenly piercing and angry. ‘Do you understand? They’re not a resource!’
That was always the way. As soon as the areas of common interest came up … Edgar sighed. The Light Ones really were deluded. How could they be so deluded?
‘All right. Let’s change the subject.’ He took another mouthful of beer and couldn’t help remarking: ‘There was an American airman sitting in here … and he was a Light Magician … an absolute oaf, by the way, he didn’t even notice me. I’ll bet you he regards people as a resource. Or maybe as a stupid, dull-witted inferior race that can be nurtured and punished. The same way we regard them.’
‘Our trouble is that we’re a product of human society,’ Anton replied gloomily. ‘With all its shortcomings. And until they’ve lived many centuries, even Light Ones still carry around the stereotypes and myths of their own country: Russia, America or Burkina Faso – it makes no difference. What the hell, why can’t I get Burkina Faso out of my head?’
‘One of those idiots, the Regin Brothers, is from Burkina Faso,’ Edgar suggested. ‘And it’s a funny name.’
‘The Regin Brothers,’ Anton said with a nod. ‘What cunning business are your people up to with them? It was someone on the Moscow Day Watch who summoned them to Moscow. Promised to help them, to activate Fáfnir’s Talon … What for?’
‘I am not in possession of any such information, and that is an official statement of my position.’ Edgar replied quickly. You couldn’t afford to give these Light Ones the slightest hint of a formal violation to clutch at.
‘Don’t bother admitting it, there’s no need,’ Anton said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘I’m not a little child. But the last thing we need is the appearance of an insane Dark Magician of immense power.’
‘Us too,’ Edgar declared. ‘That would mean all-out war. No holds barred. In other words, the Apocalypse.’
‘Then that means the Regin Brothers were lied to,’ Anton said. ‘They were persuaded to attack the Berne office, steal the Talon and fly to Moscow, but what for? To feed power to the Mirror?’
‘He’s quick-witted,’ Edgar noted to himself But he shook his head as he came up with a superb deniaclass="underline"
‘That’s rubbish. We only found out who Vitaly Rogoza was after the Talon had already been stolen and the four survivors of the battle were on their way to Moscow.’
‘That’s right!’ Anton suddenly exclaimed. ‘You’re right, Dark One! The appearance of a Mirror cannot be foretold, it’s a spontaneous creation of the Twilight. But the Inquisition’s official communiqué states that the sect began preparing to storm the artefacts repository two weeks before the actual event. Rogoza didn’t even exist then, or, rather, he did, but he was an ordinary individual who was later transformed by the Twilight.’