"I already made up the first headline," I said. "'For Progressive Magic.'"

We both smiled.

"Show me that artifact," Svetlana said.

I reach across to my clothes and took out the comb, wrapped in a handkerchief.

"I can't see any magic in it," I admitted.

Svetlana held the comb in her hands for a while.

"Well?" I asked. "What should we do? Throw it over one shoulder, then wait for a forest to spring up?"

"You're not supposed to see anything," said Svetlana, smiling. "And it's not a matter of Power-the witch was just laughing at you. Maybe even Gesar wouldn't see anything… it's not for men."

She raised the comb to her hair and began combing it smoothly and gently. And she said casually, "Just imagine… It's summer, hot, you're tired, you didn't sleep last night, you've been working all day… And then-you've just had a swim in cool water, someone's given you a massage, you've had a good meal and a glass of good wine. And now you're feeling just fine…"

"It improves the mood?" I guessed. "Counters fatigue?"

"Exclusively for women," Svetlana said, smiling. "It's old, at least 300 years old. It must have been a present from some powerful magician to a woman he loved. Perhaps even a human woman…"

She looked at me and her eyes were glowing. She said in a soft voice, "And it's supposed to make a woman attractive. Irresistible. Alluring. Does it work?"

I looked at her for a second-and then glanced at the night-light and put it out.

Svetlana herself erected the magic canopy that deadens all sounds.

I woke up early in the morning, before five. But to my amazement, I felt perfectly fresh-just like some woman who owns a magic comb and has combed her hair to her heart's content. I was in the mood for great deeds. And for a good solid breakfast.

I didn't wake anyone-just rummaged about in the little kitchen, broke a couple of pieces off a long loaf of bread, and found a small plastic bag of sliced salami. I filled a large mug with homemade kvass-and took all my booty outside.

It was light already, but the village was quiet and still. There was no one hurrying to the morning milking-the cowsheds had been standing empty for five years already. There was no one hurrying anywhere at all…

I sighed and sat down on the grass under the apple tree that had reverted to type and stopped bearing fruit a very, very long time ago. I ate a huge sandwich and drank the kvass. And to complete my comfort, I got the book about the book Fuaran out from the room-by magic, through the window. I was hoping my mother-in-law was asleep and wouldn't notice the levitating volume…

As I ate my second sandwich, I became engrossed in reading.

And let me tell you, it was really interesting.

At the time when the book was written, they didn't have any of those clever little words like "genes" and "mutations" and other little bits of biological wisdom we try to use nowadays to explain the nature of the Others. And so the team of witches who worked on the book-there were five of them, but only their first names were given-had used terms like "affinity for sorcery" and "change of nature." And by the way, one of the authors listed was Arina, something the witch had modestly failed to mention the day before.

First the learned witches discussed at length the very nature of the Others. Their conclusion was that the "affinity for sorcery" existed inside every human. The level of this "affinity" was different for everyone. As a reference point one could take the natural level of magic dispersed throughout the world. If a person's "affinity" was more intense than the global level of magic, then he or she would be a perfectly ordinary human being! He or she wouldn't be able to enter the Twilight, and would only occasionally be able to feel anything strange, as a result of fluctuations in the natural level of magic. But if a person's "affinity" was less intense than that of the surrounding world, he or she would be able to make use of the Twilight.

It all sounded pretty strange. In my own mind, I'd always thought of Others as individuals with strongly developed magical abilities. But the point of view expressed here was the exact opposite of that.

In fact the following amusing comparison was used as an example: Say the temperature throughout the entire world is 97.7^CF. Then most people, with a body temperature higher than that, will radiate heat outward and "warm nature." But the small number of people who for some reason have a body temperature lower than 97.7°F will start taking in heat. And since they receive a constant influx of Power, they will be able to make use of it, while people with far warmer temperatures carry on aimlessly "heating nature."

An interesting theory. I'd read several other attempts to explain how we came to be different from ordinary people, but I'd never come across one like this. There was something almost offensive about it…

But then, what difference did it make? The result was still the same. There were people, and there were Others…

I carried on reading.

The second chapter was devoted to the differences between "magicians and enchantresses" and "witches and wizards." At that time, apparently, they didn't use the term "wizard" for Dark Magicians, but only for "witches of the male sex,"-i.e., Others who are inclined to make use of artifacts. It was an interesting article, and I got the idea it had been written by Arina herself. Essentially it all came down to the fact that there was no real difference. An enchantress operated directly with the Twilight, pumping Power out of it to perform certain magical actions. A witch first created certain "charms" that accumulated Twilight Power and were capable of working independently for a long period of time. Enchantresses and magicians had the advantage of not needing any contrivances-no staffs and rings, books or amulets. Witches and wizards had the advantage that, once they had created a successful artifact, they could use it to accumulate immense reserves of Power, which it would be very difficult to draw out of the Twilight instantaneously. The conclusion was obvious, and Arina expressed it in so many words: A rational magician would never despise artifacts, and an intelligent wizard would try to learn to work with the Twilight directly. In the author's opinion, "in a hundred years' time we shall see that even the very greatest and arrogant of magicians will not disdain the use of amulets, and even the most orthodox of witches will not regard it as detrimental to enter the Twilight."

Well, that prediction had come true to the very letter. Most of the staff in the Night Watch were magicians. But we made regular use of artifacts…

I went into the kitchen, made myself another couple of sandwiches and poured myself some kvass. I looked at the clock- six in the morning. Dogs had begun barking somewhere, but the village still hadn't woken up.

The third chapter dealt with the numerous attempts made by Others to turn a human being into an Other (as a rule, Others had been motivated in their actions by love or greed) and attempts by human beings who had learned the truth in one way or another to become Others.

There was a detailed analysis of the story of Gilles de Rais, Joan of Arc's sword-bearer. Joan was a very weak Dark Other, "a witch of the seventh rank," which, by the way, did not prevent her from performing deeds that were, for the most part, noble. Joan's death was described in very vague terms-there was even a hint that she might have averted the inquisitors' eyes and escaped from her pyre. I decided that was pretty doubtful: Joan had violated the Treaty by using her magic to interfere in human affairs, so our Inquisition would have been keeping an eye on her execution too. There was no way you could avert their eyes… But the story of that poor devil Gilles de Rais was described in much greater detail. Either out of love or sheer scatterbrain foolishness, Joan told him all about the nature of the Others. And the young knight, so famous for his noble courage and chivalry, totally lost it. He decided that magical Power could be taken from ordinary people-young, healthy people. All you had to do was torture them, become a cannibal, and appeal to the Dark Powers for help… In effect, the man decided to become a Dark Other. And he tortured several hundred women and children to death, for which (as well as the offense of not paying his taxes), he was eventually burned at the stake too.