The Day Watch by Sergei Lukyanenko Page B

course.”
    “That doesn’t matter,” Pyotr said with a shrug. “They have a staff of two thousand three hundred here, that’s the only difference.”
    The tone in which he pronounced these words seemed almost to contradict their meaning. He was proud of Artek, as proud as if he’d founded the camp himself; as if he’d personally fought off the fascists with a machine gun in his hands, built all the buildings and planted the trees.
    I smiled in a way that said: “I don’t believe that, but I won’t say anything out of politeness.”
    “Nastya works in the Azure section,” Pyotr said. “I’ll take you there-it’s already time for Nastya to get up anyway.
    Our bus goes to Simferopol at five… how did you get here, Alisa?”
    “There were no problems,” I said. “I came by car.”
    Pyotr frowned. “They ripped you off, I suppose?”
    “No, it was okay,” I lied.
    “In any case, it’s a bit risky,” Pyotr added. “A beautiful young woman alone in a car at night with a stranger.”
    “There were two of them,” I said, “and they were absorbed in each other’s company.”
    Pyotr didn’t understand. He sighed and said, “It’s not for me to tell you how to behave, Alisa. You’re an adult with a mind of your own. But don’t forget that anything can happen! Artek is a kingdom of childhood, a realm of love, friendship, and justice. It’s the one small thing that we have managed to preserve! But outside the camp… there are all sorts of people.”
    “Yes, of course there are,” I said repentantly. It was amazing how sincerely he pronounced those words full of inspired pathos! And how genuinely he believed in them.
    “Well, all right.” Pyotr stood up and picked up my bag with an easy movement. “Let’s go, Alisa.”
    “I can manage on my own, just show me the way…”
    “Alisa!” he said with a reproachful shake of his head. “You’ll get lost. The grounds here cover two hundred and fifty-eight hectares! Come on, let’s go.”
    “Yes, even Makar got a bit lost,” I agreed.
    Pyotr was already in the doorway, but he swung round sharply at that: “Makar? The fifteen-year-old boy? Was he at the gate again?”
    I nodded, slightly confused.
    “I see…” Pyotr said dryly.
    We walked out into the warm summer night. It was already getting light. Pyotr took a flashlight out of his pocket, but he didn’t switch it on. We set off along a path that led down, toward the seashore.
    “That Makar’s a real problem,” Pyotr remarked as we walked along.
    “Why’s that?”
    “He doesn’t need much sleep… that’s the trouble.” Pyotr laughed gloomily. “He’s always running off to the guards at the gate, or to the sea, or even somewhere outside the grounds.”
    “I thought he was on some kind of duty at the gate… A Young Pioneer post…” I surmised.
     
    “Alisa!”
    Pyotr was wonderful at making objections like that. He could express a whole gamut of emotions just by pronouncing a name.
    “Children ought to be asleep at night! Not standing guard duty… at the camp gates, at the eternal flame, or anywhere else… And all normal children do sleep at night-they wear themselves out horsing around before they go to bed. They can have fun here during the day…”
    Gravel began crunching beneath his feet as we turned off the paved pathway. I took off my sandals and walked on barefoot. It was a good feeling-the hard, smooth little stones under my feet…
    “If I wanted, I could give the guards a dressing-down,” said Pyotr, thinking out loud. “Make them send the kid away. But what then? I can’t tie him to his bed all night. It’s better if he stays with adults, where he can be seen, than swimming alone in the sea at night…”
    “But why does he do that?”
    “He says he only needs three hours’ sleep a day,” said Pyotr, with a note of regret and pity in his voice. He was obviously one of those people who are more interesting to talk to on the phone or when it’s dark-his