whispered,
gazing off into the distance. 'If I'd only known . . . I
revealed myself to her as an Other. I did everything for her. She
was never ill. At the age of seventy, she looked thirty at the most.
Even in hungry Petrograd she never wanted for anything . . .
the permits she had used to strike Red Army men dumb . . .
I had her credentials signed by Lenin himself. But I couldn't give
her my length of life. That's not in our power.' He looked into
my eyes sombrely. 'If I'd known how to initiate Lubov Petrovna,
I wouldn't have asked anybody's permission. I'd have gone through
anything. I'd have dematerialised myself – but I'd have made her
into an Other . . .'
Semyon stood up and sighed:
'But now, to be quite honest, it doesn't matter to me. Whether
people can be transformed into Others or not simply doesn't
concern me. And it shouldn't concern you either. Your wife's an
Other. Your daughter's an Other. All that happiness for one person?
Gesar himself can't even dream of anything like it.'
He walked out, but I sat at the table for a while longer, finishing
my beer. The owner of the café – who was also the waiter, the
chef and the barman – never even looked in my direction. When
Semyon came in, he had hung a magical screen round the table.
What had I been thinking of, really?
There were two Inquisitors beavering away. The talented vampire
Kostya was circling the Assol complex in the form of a bat. They'd
figure it out, they were bound to discover who had wanted to
become an Other. And they'd either find the individual who had
sent the letters, or they wouldn't.
What difference did that make to me?
The woman I loved was an Other. And more than that, she had
voluntarily abandoned her work in the Watch, a brilliant career as
a Great Enchantress. All for an idiot like me. So that I wouldn't
get hung up about being stuck for ever at my basic second grade
of power.
And Nadiushka was an Other too. I'd never have to go through
the horror suffered by an Other whose child grows up, grows old
and dies. Sooner or later we would reveal Nadienka's true nature
to her. She would want to be a Great One, no doubt about it.
And she would be the very Greatest. Maybe she would even do
something to make this imperfect world better.
But here I was playing at spies, like a little child. Worrying
myself sick about succeeding in my mission, instead of dropping
in on my friendly neighbour in the evening or relaxing – strictly
for purposes of camouflage – in the casino.
I got up, put the money on the table and walked out. In an
hour or two the screen would disperse, the owner of the café
would see the money and the empty glasses and remember a
couple of ordinary-looking guys drinking beer there.
CHAPTER 5
I SPENT HALF a day doing things that were strictly off limits and
no use to anyone. Kostya would probably have pulled a wry face
and informed me what he thought of my naïvity.
First I went back to Assol to change into jeans and a simple
shirt, and then I set off in the direction of the nearest normal
courtyard – towards the dreary, nine-storey prefabricated buildings.
There, to my delight, I discovered a football pitch, with senior-school-
age loafers kicking a ball around on it. There were a few
young men there as well, in fact. Even though the recently
concluded World Cup had been, to put it mildly, an inglorious
one for our team, it had still had a positive effect. In the few
courtyards that still survived, the spirit that had seemed lost was
reviving.
I was put on a team. The side that had only one adult – with
an impressive paunch, but extremely agile and frisky. I'm not a
very good player, but these guys weren't World Cup material
either.
For about an hour I ran around on the dusty, trampled earth,
yelling and shooting at the goal made out of rusty wire mesh,
even scoring a few times. Once a huge senior-school hulk deftly
dumped me on the ground and gave me an amiable smile.
But I didn't take offence or get
gazing off into the distance. 'If I'd only known . . . I
revealed myself to her as an Other. I did everything for her. She
was never ill. At the age of seventy, she looked thirty at the most.
Even in hungry Petrograd she never wanted for anything . . .
the permits she had used to strike Red Army men dumb . . .
I had her credentials signed by Lenin himself. But I couldn't give
her my length of life. That's not in our power.' He looked into
my eyes sombrely. 'If I'd known how to initiate Lubov Petrovna,
I wouldn't have asked anybody's permission. I'd have gone through
anything. I'd have dematerialised myself – but I'd have made her
into an Other . . .'
Semyon stood up and sighed:
'But now, to be quite honest, it doesn't matter to me. Whether
people can be transformed into Others or not simply doesn't
concern me. And it shouldn't concern you either. Your wife's an
Other. Your daughter's an Other. All that happiness for one person?
Gesar himself can't even dream of anything like it.'
He walked out, but I sat at the table for a while longer, finishing
my beer. The owner of the café – who was also the waiter, the
chef and the barman – never even looked in my direction. When
Semyon came in, he had hung a magical screen round the table.
What had I been thinking of, really?
There were two Inquisitors beavering away. The talented vampire
Kostya was circling the Assol complex in the form of a bat. They'd
figure it out, they were bound to discover who had wanted to
become an Other. And they'd either find the individual who had
sent the letters, or they wouldn't.
What difference did that make to me?
The woman I loved was an Other. And more than that, she had
voluntarily abandoned her work in the Watch, a brilliant career as
a Great Enchantress. All for an idiot like me. So that I wouldn't
get hung up about being stuck for ever at my basic second grade
of power.
And Nadiushka was an Other too. I'd never have to go through
the horror suffered by an Other whose child grows up, grows old
and dies. Sooner or later we would reveal Nadienka's true nature
to her. She would want to be a Great One, no doubt about it.
And she would be the very Greatest. Maybe she would even do
something to make this imperfect world better.
But here I was playing at spies, like a little child. Worrying
myself sick about succeeding in my mission, instead of dropping
in on my friendly neighbour in the evening or relaxing – strictly
for purposes of camouflage – in the casino.
I got up, put the money on the table and walked out. In an
hour or two the screen would disperse, the owner of the café
would see the money and the empty glasses and remember a
couple of ordinary-looking guys drinking beer there.
CHAPTER 5
I SPENT HALF a day doing things that were strictly off limits and
no use to anyone. Kostya would probably have pulled a wry face
and informed me what he thought of my naïvity.
First I went back to Assol to change into jeans and a simple
shirt, and then I set off in the direction of the nearest normal
courtyard – towards the dreary, nine-storey prefabricated buildings.
There, to my delight, I discovered a football pitch, with senior-school-
age loafers kicking a ball around on it. There were a few
young men there as well, in fact. Even though the recently
concluded World Cup had been, to put it mildly, an inglorious
one for our team, it had still had a positive effect. In the few
courtyards that still survived, the spirit that had seemed lost was
reviving.
I was put on a team. The side that had only one adult – with
an impressive paunch, but extremely agile and frisky. I'm not a
very good player, but these guys weren't World Cup material
either.
For about an hour I ran around on the dusty, trampled earth,
yelling and shooting at the goal made out of rusty wire mesh,
even scoring a few times. Once a huge senior-school hulk deftly
dumped me on the ground and gave me an amiable smile.
But I didn't take offence or get
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