Sergei Lukyanenko - The New Watch

Well, okay, let’s accept that the Twilight is short of incoming Power. Assume that’s a fact.

‘Nadya can… You can’t divide by zero, you can’t divide by zero… Anything multiplied by zero is zero, anything multiplied by zero…’ I thought I understood what this meant, too. Nadya was a Zero-Level Enchantress. An Absolute Enchantress. In theory there were no limits to her power. Of course, she didn’t really understand how to control it… but that was only a matter of practice.

What did ‘you can’t divide by zero’ mean? Not in mathematics, but in this particular case? And what did ‘anything multiplied by zero is zero’ mean?

I looked at the closed doors of the nursery and the bedroom again. I crept out into the hallway, feeling like a criminal, and took the cigarettes and the lighter off the shelf. I don’t smoke at home, not even on the balcony – but I had just realised that I really needed a smoke now. I pulled on my anorak, went out onto the balcony and closed the door firmly behind me. I lit up and launched a thin stream of smoke into the night sky.

Who were the Others?

Rational beings, capable of using Power.

The Twilight, with the Tiger as its embodiment, was also a rational entity, capable of using Power.

Different in kind, but also a rational being…

Who was the most powerful Other?

Nadya was the most powerful. A Zero-Level Enchantress.

And the Twilight was also zero-level.

The terms ‘stronger’ and ‘weaker’ were inapplicable here. Even among the Great Ones, whose Power could not meaningfully be measured, there were some differences in the level of Power, and that was why those who invented the most cunning spells, used them more quickly and struck at unexpected points were victorious. But the Power of the Twilight and Nadya’s Power were identical. The Twilight possessed all the Power that flowed into it. And Nadya, in some miraculous way, was also capable of controlling all the Power in the world.

Could the Twilight destroy Nadya?

Could Nadya destroy the Twilight?

That was the question.

And to judge from the words of the prophecy, she could.

‘Kill the Tiger and you kill the Twilight!’

You can’t divide by zero – the Twilight couldn’t destroy Nadya. It seemed that that was physically impossible. And I was very glad about that.

If you multiply anything by zero, the result is zero.

What did that mean? That Nadya was capable of destroying the Twilight? And what would happen to her if she did? Would she be killed too? Or lose her magical abilities?

I didn’t want that for my daughter.

That was the whole picture. I wasn’t going to reveal the prophecy. And I was going to destroy the recording.

What about the Tiger?

He wouldn’t come for me. It wasn’t in his interest, he didn’t want the prophecy to be made known to humans. That was what he had said himself. But I wouldn’t tell anyone, and he ought to understand that. I couldn’t vouch for Arina, but the Tiger could take care of her…

I finished my cigarette and flung the butt off the balcony in a slovenly gesture. I followed its flight down from the seventh floor – the small dot of fire sliced through the darkness until it was lost to view in the circle of light round a street lamp.

Right at the feet of the man standing there…

I grabbed hold of the railing as I looked down. At the young man in a light-coloured raincoat. At the Tiger looking up at me.

The Tiger raised his hand and waved to me, either in greeting or farewell. Then he turned and walked away into the darkness.

I took out another cigarette, then put it back in the pack. I went back into the flat, hung up my anorak, rinsed out my mouth in the bathroom so as not to stink of tobacco, and sneaked quietly into the bedroom. Svetlana was sleeping. I lay down and fell asleep too – easily and perfectly calmly.

FROM EARLY MORNING those mystical forces responsible for the roads of Moscow (forces that seem more mysterious to me than any Tiger) were well-disposed. I slipped out easily onto the Third Ring Road, and the traffic on it was moving at a lively pace. In the direction I needed, of course – all the cars going in the other direction were barely crawling along – but that was the usual way of things.

I moved into the left lane and switched on the radio. First my heart was gladdened by a strident song with the chorus: ‘Young teen fluff-head. She’s a lame-brain child.’ Another station was broadcasting an interview with an opposition politician who was abusing the authorities in almost obscene language and claiming there was no free speech in the country. As a matter of fact, in any country with a culture of free speech, at the end of that broadcast the politician would have been served with a summons for slander, defamation of character and insinuation. So I carried on wandering through the Moscow airwaves until I came to rest at a station that was broadcasting foreign popular music.

‘Turn it down a bit, Anton,’ a voice said behind me.

I squinted at the rear-view mirror. Yes, real skill didn’t depend on age. Skill like teleporting into a moving car that was protected, and doing it completely unnoticed…

‘Arina, I didn’t invite you.’

‘But you listened to the prophecy,’ said the witch, stating a fact.

‘Of course. You’re very persuasive.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing.’

Arina paused. Then she said ingratiatingly: ‘Do you understand what this prophecy is about? Your daughter can destroy the Tiger.’

‘And the Twilight,’ I said. ‘A wonderful prospect.’

Arina tossed her head angrily.

‘Anton! Come to your senses! You know about the prophecy that I tried to prevent from happening…’

‘I know that if through some incredible disaster the Twilight is destroyed,’ I said, keeping my eyes on the road, ‘then all our Power will be reduced to nothing. It will drain off into the void – or remain in this world… that’s not important. But we will no longer be able to heal people, to protect them…’

‘As if we really healed them and protected them very much anyway,’ Arina said. Not scathingly, more sadly.

‘We do what we can,’ I said, shrugging. ‘Perhaps it’s not for a former Dark One and Witches’ leader to reproach the Night Watch on that score?’

‘Ah yes, I’m a well-known Baba Yaga,’ Arina snickered. ‘I used to eat little Ivans for supper and send the swan-geese off to plunder and loot.’

‘I’m not claiming that,’ I said soberly. ‘I’m even prepared to concede that you personally scrubbed down fine young heroes in the bathhouse and inspired them for the battle against evil.’

Arina laughed unexpectedly. ‘You know, you’re right! That did happen a couple of times…’

‘But like any witch, you worked both good and evil,’ I continued. ‘And without distinction. But I try to stick to good. So don’t go reproaching me.’

‘I’m not reproaching you,’ Arina said with surprising meekness. ‘But you’ve heard the prophecy, haven’t you? The Twilight is short of Power. Power is produced by human emotions. Life has clearly become too calm…’

‘Oh, it’s really calm!’ I exclaimed. ‘Not a day goes by without a new war. And there’s no problem with sex in the world, either. The consumer society consumes, the Third World fights battles, ships sink, typhoons rage and roar, power stations explode – the world’s awash with emotions. And there’s Hollywood trying its best, too: people certainly aren’t short of spectacles.’

‘So it means that isn’t enough,’ Arina said stubbornly. ‘It means that the way everything’s going doesn’t suit the Twilight. It wants major upheavals. The downfall of kingdoms, mass human migrations, holocausts and apocalypses…’