"Is that all?" I asked.

"Fuaran."

"There's no such book, it's an invention…" I replied automatically. "What? Fuaran?"

"Yes, Fuaran," Oksana repeated.

No, there was really nothing so horrible in that book. But in all the textbooks it was mentioned as an imaginary invention. Because according to legend, that book contained instructions on how to turn a human child into a witch or a warlock. Detailed instructions that supposedly worked.

But that was impossible!

Wasn't it, Gesar?

"Wonderful books," I said.

"They're books on botany, are they?" Oksnana asked.

"Uh huh," I confirmed. "Like catalogues, kind of. Aliada Ansata tells you where to look for various kinds of herbs… and so on. Well, thank you, Ksyusha."

There were interesting things going on in our forest. Right there, just outside Moscow, a powerful witch sitting in the dark depths of the forest… no, what dark depths? It was only a small stretch of forest… with a library of extremely rare books on Dark magic. And sometimes she saved children from dim-witted werewolves, for which I was very grateful to her. But books like that were supposed to be registered on a special list- in both Watches and the Inquisition. Because the Power that stood behind them was immense, and dangerous.

"I owe you a chocolate bar," I told Oksana. "You told me your story really well."

Oksana didn't make any fuss. She just said "thank you," and then she seemed to lose all interest in the conversation.

Since the little girl was older, the witch had obviously brainwashed her more thoroughly. Only she'd forgotten about the books the witch had seen.

And that made me feel a bit less worried.

Chapter 2

Gesar listened to me very carefully. He asked a couple of questions to clarify a few things and then said nothing, just sighed and groaned. I lounged in the hammock with the phone in my hands, telling him all the details… the only thing I didn't tell him was that the witch had the book Fuaran.

"Good work, Anton," Gesar told me eventually. "Well done. I see you remain vigilant."

"What shall 1 do?" I asked.

"The witch must be found," said Gesar. "She hasn't done any harm, but she has to be registered. You know, just… the usual procedure."

"And the werewolves?" I asked.

"Most likely a group from Moscow," Gesar commented dryly. "I'll give the order to check all werewolves with three or more werewolf children."

"There were only three cubs," I reminded him.

"The werewolf might only have taken the older ones hunting," Gesar explained. "They usually have large families… Are there any suspicious vacationers in the village at the moment? An adult with three or more children?"

"No," I replied regretfully. "Sveta and I thought of that right away… Anna Viktorovna is the only one who came with two, and all the rest either have no children or just one. The birth rate's critically low in Russia…"

"I am aware of the demographic situation, thank you," Gesar interrupted me sardonically. "What about the locals?"

"There are some large families, but then Svetlana knows all the local people well. Nothing suspicious, just ordinary people."

"So they're outsiders," Gesar concluded. "As I understand it, no one has disappeared in the village. Are there any holiday hotels or rest homes nearby?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "On the far side of the river, about five kilometers away, there's a Young Pioneers' camp, or whatever it is they call them now… I've already checked-everything's in order, the children are all in place. And they wouldn't let them come across the river-it's a military-style camp, very strict. Lights out, reveille, five minutes to dress. Don't worry about that."

Gesar grunted in dissatisfaction and asked me, "Do you need any help, Anton?"

I thought about it. It was the most important question that I hadn't been able to answer so far.

"I don't know. It looks as though the witch is more powerful than me. But I'm not going there to kill her… and she must sense that."

Somewhere far, far away in Moscow, Gesar pondered something. Then he declared: "Have Svetlana check the probability lines. If the danger to you is only slight, well, then try on your own. If it's more than ten or twelve percent… then…" He hesitated for a moment, but went on to finish quite briskly. "Then Ilya and Semyon will come. Or Danila and Farid. Three of you will be able to manage."

I smiled. You're thinking about something else, Gesar. About something completely different. You're hoping that if anything goes wrong, Svetlana will back me up. And then maybe come back to the Night Watch…

"And then, you've got Svetlana," Gesar concluded. "You understand the whole business. So get on with it and report back as necessary."

"Yes sir, mon general," I rapped. Gesar had told me to report back in a very commanding tone of voice.

"In terms of military rank, lieutenant colonel, my title would be at least generalissimus. Now get on with the job."

I put my phone away and took a minute to classify levels of Power in terms of military ranks. Seventh level-private… sixth-sergeant… fifth-lieutenant… fourth-captain… third-major… second-lieutenant-colonel… first-colonel.

That was right. If you didn't introduce unnecessary differentiations or divide ranks into junior and senior, then I would be a lieutenant colonel. And a general would be an ordinary magician beyond classification.

But Gesar was no ordinary magician.

The gate slammed shut and Ludmila Ivanovna came into the garden. My mother-in-law, with Nadiushka skeetering restlessly around her. The moment she was in the garden, she came dashing across to the hammock.

No, my daughter wasn't initiated, but she could sense her parents. And there were plenty of other things she could do that ordinary two-year-old little girls couldn't. For instance, she wasn't afraid of any animals, and animals loved her. Dogs and cats simply fawned on her…

And mosquitoes didn't bite her.

"Daddy," Nadya said, scrambling up on top of me. "We went for a walk."

"Hello, Ludmila Ivanovna," I said to my mother-in-law, just to be on the safe side. We'd already exchanged greetings that morning.

"Taking a rest?" my mother-in-law asked dubiously. No, we got along fine. Not like in the old jokes. But somehow I had the feeling that she always suspected me of something or other. Of being an Other, for instance… if there was any way she could know about the Others.

"Just a little bit," I said cheerfully. "Did you go far, Nadya?"

"Yes, very far."

"Are you tired?"

"Yes," Nadka said. "But granny's more tired than me!"

Ludmila Ivanovna stood there for a second, apparently wondering whether a blockhead like me could be trusted with his own daughter. She evidently decided to risk it, and went into the house.

"And where are you going?" Nadiushka asked, clutching my hand tightly.

"Did I say I was going anywhere?" I asked in surprise.

"No, you didn't say…" Nadka admitted and ruffled up her hair with her little hand. "But you are going?"

"Yes, I am," I confessed.

That's the way things are, if a child is a potential Other, and so powerful that she demonstrates the ability to foresee the future from birth. A year earlier Nadka had started crying a week before she actually started cutting her teeth.

"La-la-la…" Nadya sang, looking at the fence. "But the fence needs painting."

"Did grandma say that?" I asked.

"Yes. If we had a real man, he'd paint the fence," Nadiushka repeated laboriously. "But we haven't got a real man, so grandma's going to paint it."

I sighed. Oh those terrible dacha fanatics. When people got old, why did they always develop a passion for scrabbling in the earth? Were they trying to get used to it?