“The brilliant solutions are always the simplest,” said Gesar. And he rang the bell at the next door.

Olga Yurievna answered it. Her eyes were slightly hazy, like the eyes of any person who has come under the gentle but irresistible influence of an Other.

“Come in!” she said in the tone of a hospitable housewife and stepped aside.

I spotted Semyon immediately—he was standing in the middle of the room, pressing the boy Kesha up against himself with one hand and “holding” a very, very unpleasant spell, cocked and ready to fire, in the other. Semyon is a very experienced and proficient field agent. But after seeing the “tiger” with my own eyes, I knew that no amount of experience and skill would have helped him.

When we appeared Semyon let out a deep sigh of relief and fluttered his hand through the air, dispersing the spell. Then he said: “They’re friends, Kesha, everything’s fine . . .”

And then he spoke to us, with far more feeling.

“Thank you. You’ve no idea how glad I am to see you. Even you . . . Zabulon.”

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

IN THE FAIRY-TALE BOOKS, YOUNG MAGICIANS’ PARENTS ARE always honestly informed that their child is being taken away to be taught magic. In the Watches they never do that. Firstly, we don’t have any special school. Others are taught at the Watch, and it’s rare for more than a third of them to be children, since the abilities of an Other can manifest themselves at any age. For Others, as for chess players, there are no “adult” and “child” ratings. Secondly, it’s something that the parents simply don’t need to know. And the point is not just that they might give something away—that’s easy enough to prevent with simple spells. The problem is actually something quite different . . .

Over the many centuries before humankind finally lost its belief in magic and the wizards and sorcerers set up the Watches and were divided into Light Ones and Dark Ones, we acquired substantial experience in dealing with human beings. Imagine you have been told that your child is a wizard or a sorceress. At first, you’ll probably be glad to find out (or distressed, if it contradicts your ardently held faith or no less ardent atheistic convictions). But later . . . later you’ll feel resentful. Of course, all parents want the best possible future for their children. But one so much better than the norm? To accept that you will live the short life of an ordinary human being, while your child will be able to work miracles and will live for hundreds of years—that’s not easy! Very many people come completely unglued and start taking their irritation out on the child in various ways, which may be more or less explicit. And that, by the way, can lead to very serious unpleasantness—children have far less self-control than adults do.