Just to be on the safe side, I scanned the boy's aura. A little human being. A good little human being, and I wanted to believe he would grow up into a good adult. Not the slightest sign of any Other potential. And no traces of magical influence.
But then, if Svetlana hadn't spotted anything, what could I expect, with my second-grade abilities? 'And then the wolf laughed out loud!' Romka exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in glee.
'Weren't you frightened?' I asked.
To my surprise, Romka thought about that for a long time. Then he said:
'Yes, I was. I'm small, and the wolf was big. And I didn't have a stick. And then I stopped being afraid.'
'So you're not afraid of the wolf now?' I asked. After an adventure like that, any normal child would have developed a stammer, but Romka had lost his.
'Not a bit,' said the boy. 'Oh, now you've put me off. What part did I get to?'
'The part where the wolf laughed,' I said with a smile.
'Just exactly like a man,' said Romka.
So that was it. It was a long time since I'd had any dealings with werewolves. Especially werewolves as brazen as this . . .hunting children, only a hundred kilometres from Moscow. Had they been counting on the fact that there was no Night Watch in the village? Even then, the district office checked every missing person case. They had a very skilful, specialised magician for that. From the normal human viewpoint what he did was pure charlatanism – he looked at photographs, and then either put them aside or phoned the operations office and said in an embarrassed voice: 'I think I've got something here . . . I'm not quite sure what . . .'
And then we would swing into action, drive out to the country, find the signs . . . and the signs would be terrible, but we're used to that. Then the werewolves would probably resist arrest, and someone – it could easily be me – would wave his hand. And a jangling grey haze would go creeping through the Twilight . . .
We rarely took their kind alive. But this time I really wanted to.
'And what I think as well,' Romka said thoughtfully, 'is that the wolf said something. I think so, I think so . . . Only he didn't talk, I know wolves don't talk, do they? But I dream that he did talk.'
'And what did he say?' I asked cautiously.
'Go a-way, witch!' Romka said, trying in vain to imitate a hoarse bass voice.
Right. Now I could issue the warrant for a search. Or at least request help from Moscow.
It was a werewolf, no doubt about it. But fortunately for the children, there was a witch there too.
A powerful witch.
Very powerful.
She hadn't just driven away the werewolf – she'd tidied up the children's memories without leaving any trace. Only she hadn't gone in deep. She hadn't expected there would be a vigilant watchman in the village. The boy didn't remember anything when he was awake, but in his dream – there it was. 'Go away, witch!'
How very interesting!
'Thank you, Romka.' I held out my hand to him. 'I'll go to the forest and take a look.'
'But aren't you afraid? Have you got a gun?' he asked eagerly.
'Yes.'
'Show it to me!'
'It's at home,' Anna Viktorovna said strictly. 'And guns aren't toys for children!'
Romka sighed and asked plaintively:
'Only don't shoot the cubs, all right? Better bring me one and I'll train it as a dog! Or two, one for me, one for Ksyusha!'
'Roman!' Anna Viktorovna snapped in a voice of iron.
I found Ksyusha at the pond, as her mother said I would. A covey of girls was sunbathing beside a pack of boys, and the gibes were flying in both directions. The boy sunbathers were old enough not to pull the girls' plaits any more, but they still didn't understand what girls were any good for.
When I arrived everyone stopped talking and stared at me warily. I hadn't put in an appearance at the village before.
'Ksyusha?' I asked the little girl I thought I'd seen in the street with Romka.
The serious girl in a dark blue swimsuit looked at me, nodded and said politely:
'Hi . . . hello.'
'Hello. I'm Anton, Svetlana Nazarova's husband. Do you know her?' I asked.
'What's your daughter's name?' Ksyusha asked suspiciously.
'Nadya.'
'Yes, I know,' she said with a nod, getting up off the sand. 'You want to talk about the wolves, right?'
I smiled.
'That's right.'
She glanced at the boys. The boys, not the girls.
'Uhuh, that's Nadya's dad,' said a freckle-faced kid who was obviously from the village. 'My dad's fixing your car right now.'
He looked round proudly at his friends.
'We can talk here,' I said to reassure the children. It was terrible, of course, to see normal kids living in normal families being so cautious.
But it was better that they were.
'We went for a walk in the forest,' Ksyusha began, standing to attention in front of me. I thought for a moment and sat down on the sand – then the girl sat down too. Anna Viktorovna certainly knew how to bring up her children. 'It was my fault we got lost . . .'
One of the village kids giggled. But quietly. After the business with the wolves Ksyusha was probably the most popular girl with the boys in first class.
In principle she didn't tell me anything new. And there were no traces of magic on her either. Only the mention of a bookcase 'with old books' made me prick up my ears.
'Do you remember any of the book titles?' I asked.
Ksyusha shook her head.
'Try to remember,' I asked her. I looked down at my feet, at my long, irregular shadow.
The shadow rose up obediently to meet me.
And the cool, grey Twilight accepted me.
It's always a pleasure to look at children from the Twilight.
Even the most intimidated and unhappy of them still have auras without any of the malice and bitterness that adults are shrouded in.
I apologised mentally to the kids – after all, they hadn't asked me to do what I was going to do. And I ran the lightest possible, imperceptible touch across them. Just to remove the slight traces of Evil that had already stuck to them.
And then I stroked Ksyusha's hair and whispered:
'Remember, little girl . . .'
I wouldn't be able to remove the block put in place by the witch, if she was more powerful than me, or at least equal in power. But fortunately for me, the witch had been very gentle with their minds.
I emerged from the Twilight and the air hit me like a blast from a stove. The summer had really turned out hot.
'I remember!' Ksyusha said triumphantly. 'One book was called Aliada Ansata.'
I frowned.
That book wasn't a herbarium . . . or at least it wasn't an ordinary witch's herbarium, it was particularly heinous. It even had a few vile uses for dandelions.
'And Kassagar Garsarra,' Ksyusha continued.
Some of the children giggled. But uncertainly.
'How was it written?' I asked. 'In Latin letters? You know, like English?'
'No, in Russian,' she replied. 'In really funny, old letters.'
I'd never heard of a Russian translation of that manuscript, which was extremely rare even among the Dark Ones. It couldn't be printed, the magic of the spells wouldn't be preserved. It could only be copied out by hand. And only in blood. Not the blood of a virgin or a young innocent, those were erroneous beliefs introduced later, and modern copies like that were no use at all. The Kassagar Garsarra was still believed to exist only in Arabic, Spanish, Latin and Old German. A magician who rewrote the book had to use his own blood – a separate jab for every spell. And it was a thick book . . .
And Power was lost with the blood.
It was enough to make me feel proud of Russian witches for producing even one fanatic like that.
'Is that all?' I asked
'Fuaran.'
'There's no such book, it's an invention . . .' I replied au
tomatically: 'What did you say? Fuaran?'
'Yes, Fuaran,' Ksyusha repeated.
There wasn't really anything too horrible in that book. But in all the textbooks it was mentioned as an imaginary invention. According to legend, it contained instructions on how to turn a human child into a witch or a warlock. Detailed instructions that supposedly worked.
But that was impossible!
Wasn't it, Gesar?
'Wonderful books,' I said.
'They're books on botany, are they?' Ksyusha asked.
'Yes,' I confirmed. 'Like catalogues, kind of. Aliada Ansata tells you where to look for various kinds of herbs . . . and so on. Well, thank you, Ksyusha.'
There were interesting things going on around here! Right here, just outside Moscow, a powerful witch sitting in the dark depths of the forest . . . though hardly – it was only a small stretch of forest . . . with a library of extremely rare books on Dark magic. And sometimes she saved children from dim-witted werewolves, for which I was very grateful. But books like that were supposed to be registered on a special list – kept by both Watches and the Inquisition. Because the Power that stood behind them was immense, and dangerous.
'I owe you a chocolate bar,' I told the girl. 'You told me your story really well.'
Ksyusha didn't make any fuss, she just said 'thank you'. Then she seemed to lose all interest in the conversation.
Since the little girl was older, the witch had obviously brainwashed her more thoroughly. Only she'd forgotten about the books the witch had seen.
And that made me feel a bit less worried.
CHAPTER 2
GESAR LISTENED TO me carefully. He asked questions to clarify a few things and then said nothing, just sighed and groaned. I lounged in the hammock with the phone in my hands, telling him all the details . . . the only thing I didn't tell him was that the witch had the book Fuaran.
'Good work, Anton,' Gesar told me eventually. 'Well done. I see you remain vigilant.'
'What shall I do?' I asked.
'The witch must be found,' he said. 'She hasn't done any harm, but she has to be registered. You know, just . . . usual procedure.'
'And the werewolves?' I asked.
'Most likely a group from Moscow,' Gesar commented dryly. 'I'll order a check on all werewolves with three or more werewolf children.'
'There were only three cubs,' I reminded him.
'The werewolf might only have taken the older ones hunting,' Gesar explained. 'They usually have large families . . . Are there any suspicious holidaymakers in the village? An adult with three or more children?'
'No,' I replied regretfully. 'Sveta and I thought of that straight away . . . Anna Viktorovna is the only one who came with two, and all the rest either have no children or just one. The birth rate's critically low in Russia . . .'
'I am aware of the demographic situation, thank you,' Gesar interrupted sardonically. 'What about the locals?'
'There are some large families, but Svetlana knows all the local people well. Nothing suspicious, just ordinary types.'
'So they're outsiders,' Gesar concluded. 'As I understand it, no one has disappeared from the village. Are there any holiday hotels or rest homes nearby?'
'Yes,' I confirmed. 'On the far side of the river, about five kilometres away, there's a Young Pioneers' camp, or whatever it is they call them now . . . I've already checked, everything's in order, the children are all in place. And they wouldn't let them come across the river, it's a military-style camp, very strict. Lights out, reveille, five minutes to dress. Don't worry about that.'
Gesar grunted in dissatisfaction and asked me:
'Do you need any help, Anton?'
I thought about it. It was the most important question that I hadn't been able to answer so far.
'I don't know. It looks as though the witch is more powerful than me. But I'm not going there to kill her . . . and she must sense that.'
Somewhere in Moscow, Gesar pondered something. Then he declared:
'Have Svetlana check the probability lines. If the danger to you is only slight, then try yourself. If it's more than ten or twelve per cent . . . then . . .' He hesitated for a moment, then finished briskly. 'Ilya and Semyon will come. Or Danila and Farid. Three of you will be able to manage.'
I smiled. You're thinking about something else, Gesar. About something completely different. You're hoping that if anything goes wrong, Svetlana will back me up. And then maybe come back to the Night Watch . . .
'And then, you've got Svetlana,' Gesar concluded. 'You understand the whole business. So get on with it and report back as necessary.'
'Yes sir, mon générale,' I rapped.
'In terms of military rank, lieutenant-colonel, my title would be at least generalissimus. Now get on with the job,' Gesar retorted.
I put my phone away and took a minute to classify grades of Power in terms of military ranks. Seventh grade – private . . . sixth – sergeant . . . fifth – lieutenant . . . fourth – captain . . . third – major . . . second – lieutenant-colonel . . . first – colonel.
That was right – if you didn't introduce unnecessary differentiations or divide ranks into junior and senior, then I would be a lieutenant-colonel – and a general would be an ordinary magician beyond classification.
But Gesar was no ordinary magician.
The gate slammed shut and Ludmila Ivanovna came into the garden. My mother-in-law. With Nadiushka skeetering restlessly around her. The moment my daughter was in the garden, she came dashing across to the hammock.
She wasn't initiated, but she could sense her parents. And there were plenty of things she could do that any ordinary two-year-olds couldn't. She wasn't afraid of any animals, and they loved her. Dogs and cats simply fawned on her . . .
And mosquitoes didn't bite her.
'Daddy,' Nadya said, scrambling up on top of me. 'We went for a walk.'
'Hello, Ludmila Ivanovna,' I said to my mother-in-law. Just to be on the safe side. We'd already exchanged greetings that morning.
'Taking a rest?' my mother-in-law asked dubiously.
We got along fine, really. Not like in the old jokes about mothers-in-law. But somehow I had the feeling that she always suspected me of something. Of being an Other, maybe . . . if there was any way she could know about the Others.
'Just a quick one,' I said cheerfully. 'Did you go far, Nadya?'
'Yes, very far.'
'Are you tired?'
'Yes,' Nadya said. 'But Grandma's more tired than me!'
Ludmila Ivanovna stood there for a second, apparently wondering whether a blockhead like me could be trusted with his own daughter. She decided to risk it, and went into the house.