I selected Withdraw cash on the menu. Then Another amount. I smiled at the pun. Another amount for an Other . . . The usual limit for a single withdrawal of cash was thirty thousand roubles.

I punched in 30 500 and pressed Enter.

The ATM thought for a second and started rustling banknotes.

I entered the pin code again. Went to withdraw cash. Selected the dollar menu. Paused before I entered the sum.

No, this was raving lunacy.

25,000. Enter.

No way could an ATM issue me two hundred and fifty hundred-dollar notes!

Something inside the machine started chirring. A stack of hundred-dollar notes slid halfway out. I pulled it out and stuck it in my pocket, as if I was dreaming. The ATM didn’t ask for the pin code again—it started counting out more notes. I stood there, trying to hide the slot with the money in it from curious eyes—the European tact in such matters hadn’t yet caught on in Russia.

Another stack of money.

The rustling of notes as another portion was counted out . . .

What was I going to do with twenty-five thousand greenbacks? I could buy a new car with that, but what did I need it for?

And the answer was basically this:

Light Others aren’t ascetics or saints who have renounced money. We like to dress in beautiful clothes and eat good food. We won’t say no to a new TV. Or to a new car.

But, unlike the Dark Ones, we feel . . . awkward about it, I suppose. It’s as if we try to live according to the utopian Communist slogan: “From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.” Only we assess our abilities ourselves—and sometimes rather critically. And as a result we reduce the level of our needs.

What can be done to allow convinced altruists to indulge themselves whenever they feel like it? The answer’s simple—cure them of the habit of counting. Here are your bank cards, lads. Your pay (and believe me, the boss knows how much you’ve earned) is transferred to your account . . . Enjoy.

We were probably the only organization in the world, whether human or Other, in which the boss tried to deceive his rank-and-file colleagues by increasing their pay.

Or rather, by not setting any limit to it.

That was funny.

“Not the smartest thing for an Other who has blocked his abilities to do,” a quiet voice said behind me. “I mean walking round Moscow in the evening with your pockets stuffed with bucks.”

“I think walking round London or New York with that kind of money wouldn’t be too wise, either,” I replied without turning round. “I knew you were following me, Arina.”

The witch laughed quietly. I finished stuffing the money into my pockets and turned to face her.

She was looking superb. As always.

“Did you deliberately block your magic?” she asked. “To lure me out?”