Then the question was: What for?

And I already had the answer: In order not to go through with this initiation. In order to deliver the client into our hands and not go through with the promise.

That meant it wasn't a matter of money. In some incomprehensible fashion the unknown client had acquired a hold over the Other. A hold so terrible and absolute that he could demand anything he wanted. An Other could never admit that a human being held that kind of power over him. So he was making a cunning knight's move…

Yes yes yes!

I lit a cigarette, took a sip of coffee, and slumped back grandly in the soft chair like I belonged there.

It was beginning to come together. How could an Other end up in bondage to a human being? An ordinary human being, even if he was rich, influential, intelligent…

There was only one possibility, and I didn't like it one little bit. Our mysterious renegade Other could have found himself in the position of the golden fish in the fairytale. He could have given a human being his word of honor to grant him or her any wish at all. After all, the fish in the story hadn't expected the crazy old woman-that reminded me, about the old woman: I had to inform Gesar that I had discovered a potential Other-that the crazy old woman would want to become the Empress of the Sea.

And that brought me to the really upsetting part…

A vampire, or a werewolf, or a Dark Magician couldn't give a damn for any promise.

They would give their word and then take it back again. And they'd tear the human's throat out if he tried to stand up for his rights.

So it was a Light Magician who had made the rash promise.

Could that really happen?

It could.

Easily. We were all a bit naive-Kostya had been right about that. Our human weaknesses made us vulnerable-we could be trapped by our sense of guilt, all sorts of romantic notions…

So the traitor was in our ranks. He had given his word-I wouldn't try to figure out why just yet. He was caught in a trap. If a Light Magician refused to carry out his promise, he would dematerialize…

Stop! There was another curious point here. I could promise a human being to do "anything he wanted." But if I was asked to do the impossible… well, I didn't know what exactly, not something that was merely difficult, or repugnant, or forbidden, but precisely impossible-extinguish the sun, for instance, or turn a human being into an Other-what answer would I give? That it was impossible. No way. And I'd be right, and there wouldn't be any reason for me to dematerialize. And my human master would have to accept that. Ask for something else… money, health, incredible sex appeal, good luck playing the stock market, and a keen nose for danger. In general-the usual human pleasures that a powerful Other can provide.

But the renegade Other had panicked. He'd panicked badly enough to set both Watches and the Inquisition on his "master" at the same time. He was backed into a corner, he was afraid of disappearing into the Twilight forever.

That meant that he really could turn a human being into an Other.

That meant the impossible was possible. The means existed. Not known to many, but they did exist…

I suddenly felt uneasy.

The traitor was one of our oldest and most knowledgeable magicians. Not necessarily a magician beyond classification, not necessarily someone who held a really important position. But an old hand with access to the greatest secrets…

For some reason I immediately thought of Semyon.

Semyon, the Light Magician who sometimes knew things that meant the sign of the Avenging Fire was applied to his body.

"I'm well into my second century…"

Maybe.

He knew a lot of things.

Who else did?

There was a whole bunch of old, experienced magicians who didn't work in the Watch. Just got on with living in Moscow, watched TV, drank beer, went to soccer matches…

I didn't know them, that was the problem. Those wise old birds who had quit working didn't want to get involved in the endless war between the Watches.

And who could I turn to for advice? Who could I expound my terrifying conjectures to? Gesar? Olga? But potentially they were on the list of suspects themselves.

No, I didn't believe they could have blundered. After the rough deal she'd had from life, Olga-not to mention the arch-cunning Gesar-would never make a gaffe like that. They wouldn't make impossible promises to a human being. And Semyon couldn't do it either. Semyon was wise, in the primordial, folk meaning of the word. I couldn't believe he would slip up like this…

That meant it was another of our senior colleagues who had blundered.

Anyway, how would I look putting forward an accusation like that? "I think the guilty party is one of us. A Light One. Most likely Semyon. Or Olga. Or even you, Gesar…"

How could I carry on going to work after that? How would I be able to look my comrades in the face?

No, I couldn't come out with suspicions like that. I had to know for sure.

Somehow it felt awkward to call the waitress over. I walked to the counter and asked her to make me a fresh cup of coffee. Then I leaned against the railings and looked down.

Below me I spotted my acquaintance from the night before. The guitarist, collector of amusing T-shirts and happy owner of a large English toilet, was standing beside a small open pool full of live lobsters. Las's face reflected the intense workings of his thought. Finally he laughed and pushed his trolley toward the checkout.

I pricked up my ears.

Las unhurriedly set out his modest purchases on the moving belt, with a bottle of Czech absinthe towering over everything else. As he was paying, he said, "You know, that pool of lobsters you have over there…"

The girl at the checkout smiled, every element of her pose confirming that there was a pool and there were live lobsters swimming in it, and a couple of arthropods would go remarkably well with absinthe, kefir, and frozen pelmeni.

"Well," Las continued imperturbably, "I just saw one lobster climb on another's back, crawl onto the edge and hide under those refrigerators over there…"

The girl started blinking rapidly. A minute later two security men and a sturdy cleaning lady appeared at the checkout. After listening to the terrible tale of the escape, they rushed over to the refrigerators.

Las finished paying, glancing back into the hall every now and then.

The pursuit of the nonexistent lobster was in full swing. The cleaning lady was poking her mop under the refrigerators, with the security men bustling around her. I heard one of them say: "Drive it this way, toward me! I can almost see it already!"

Las moved toward the exit with a smile of quiet joy on his face.

One of the security men warned: "Go easy with that poking. You'll dent its shell-it'll be damaged goods!"

Trying to wipe a smile unworthy of a Light Magician off my face, I took my coffee from the girl. No, that guy wouldn't have cut letters out of newspapers with nail scissors. That would have been far too tedious.

My phone rang.

"Hi, Sveta," I said.

"How are things going, Anton?"

Her voice sounded a bit less alarmed this time.

"I'm having a coffee. I've had a chat with my colleagues from the competing firms."

"Aha," said Svetlana. "Well done. Anton, do you need my help at all?"

"But you… you're not on the staff," I said, perplexed.

"I don't give a damn!" said Svetlana, flaring up instantly. "It's you I'm concerned about, not the Watch."

"No need yet," I replied. "How's Nadiushka?"

"She's helping me make borscht," Svetlana said with a laugh. "So dinner will be a bit late today. Shall I call her?"

"Yes," I said, relaxing, and took a seat by the window.

But Nadka didn't take the phone, and she didn't want to talk to her daddy.