‘And?’ I asked.
‘And it proved to be an answer that suited everybody. Dark Ones and Light Ones and the Inquisition that maintains equilibrium. It is remarkable that such a thing has been found in the world. It even makes me feel slightly curious. But I have told you everything that I know. Merlin’s spell annihilates the differences between the levels of the Twilight.’
‘You live in the Twilight yourself,’ I observed. ‘You could suggest something! After all, if the Twilight disappears you will die!’
‘Or I shall become an ordinary man and live out the remainder of a human life,’ Rustam said without any particular emotion.
‘Everyone who has withdrawn into the Twilight will die!’ I exclaimed. Alisher looked at me in amazement. Of course … he didn’t know that the path followed by Others ended on the seventh level of the Twilight…
‘People are mortal. How are we better than them?’
‘At least try to suggest something, Rustam!’ I implored him. ‘You are wiser than I am! What could it be? What could the Inquisitor have found?’
‘Ask him yourself,’ said Rustam, reaching out his hand. His lips moved and a stream of blinding white light flashed past me towards the Toyota.
I could probably have spotted Edgar myself – if only I had been expecting to see him on the plateau. Or perhaps even the most thorough check would have been useless. He had not concealed himself in the Twilight or by using the common spells available to all Others. Edgar was hidden from our eyes by a magical amulet on his head that reminded me of a skullcap. It was only its size that prevented me from calling it a hat of invisibility. I supposed it could be a skullcap of invisibility, since we were in Uzbekistan after all.
I automatically raised a Shield around myself and noticed that Alisher had done the same.
Only Rustan seemed entirely unconcerned about the Inquisitor’s presence. The light he had summoned had taken Edgar by surprise – he was sitting on the hood of the car with his legs dangling, calmly observing us. For a second it looked as if he couldn’t understand what had happened. Then the skullcap on his head started smoking and Edgar flung it to the ground, with a muffled curse. That was when he realised that we could see him.
‘Hi, Edgar,’ I said.
He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time we’d seen each other – in the train, when we were doing battle with Kostya Saushkin. Except that now he wasn’t dressed in his eternal suit and tie, but in a much freer and more comfortable style: grey linen trousers, a thin white cotton sweater and good leather shoes with thick soles … He looked like a svelte, fashionable European – and in the Central Asian wilderness, that made him seem like an amiable coloniser taking a brief respite from the white man’s burden, or an English spy from the time of Kipling and the Great Game that Russia and Britain played in this part of the world.
‘Hi, Anton,’ said Edgar, getting down off the hood. ‘Just look at that … now I’ve interrupted your conversation.’
Strangely enough, he seemed embarrassed. But then, who wouldn’t be embarrassed after calling down tectonic spells on our heads? Who wouldn’t be afraid to look us in the eye?’
‘What have you done, Edgar?’ I asked.
‘It was just the way things worked out,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘Anton, I won’t even try to make excuses! I feel really awkward!’
‘And did you feel awkward in Edinburgh too?’ I asked ‘When you cut the watchmen’s throats? When you hired the thugs?’
‘Very awkward,’ Edgar said, nodding. ‘Especially since we didn’t manage to break through to the seventh level in any case.’
Afandi-Rustam began laughing and slapping his sides. How much of it was Rustam and how much Afandi, I couldn’t tell.
‘He felt awkward!’ Rustam exclaimed. ‘They always feel awkward, but it never means anything.’
Obviously embarrassed by this reaction from Rustam, Edgar waited until the magician had laughed his fill. I took the chance to look the Inquisitor (perhaps I should have said ‘former Inquisitor’) up and down through the Twilight.
Yes, he was hung all over with amulets, like decorations on a New Year’s tree. But there was something else as well as the amulets. Charms. Combinations of the very simplest natural components, which didn’t require great effort to saturate them with magic, which acquired their magical properties from light, almost imperceptible touches of Power. In the same way that saltpetre, charcoal and sulphur, almost harmless in themselves, together become gunpowder, which explodes at the slightest spark.
It was no accident that Edgar was dressed completely in cotton, linen and leather. Natural materials have an affinity for magic. You can’t charm a nylon jacket.
And these charms that transformed his light clothing into magical armour bothered me. Charms are the weapon of enchantresses and witches. Magicians rarely make use of them. There was no way I could imagine Edgar carefully impregnating his own trousers with herbal infusions.
So was this the work of another member of their criminal gang? The Light Healer? Yes, healers knew how to work with charms, I knew that very well from Svetlana.
‘Edgar, you realise that I am obliged to arrest you?’
‘And what if you can’t?’ Edgar asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. The fingers of his left hand began moving, weaving together a spell. I realised which one it was – and I hesitated for just an instant as I made up my mind whether to warn Rustam or not. Strangely enough, it was in my interest for Edgar to get what he wanted …
‘Rustam, he’s working the Confession!’ I shouted.
After all, this ancient magician with bats in the belfry was a Light One …
Edgar struck instantly with the spell, simultaneously shouting:
‘How can I take the Crown of All Things?’
There you go. I hadn’t needed to use my four bracelets that compelled an honest answer to any question!
We all gazed at Rustam in silence. He was slowly rubbing his chest where the spell had struck him. He raised his head, looked at Edgar with his cold blue eyes and said:
‘With your hands.’
Alisher started laughing. Edgar had been caught out by the ambivalence of his formulation. Even under a powerful spell Rustam had managed to give a perfectly precise and absolutely useless answer.
And then, with a slight movement of his lips, Rustam struck back. And he struck with something entirely unfamiliar to me. No fancy effects, but Edgar was shaken from side to side, and his cheeks swelled up in red botches from slaps delivered by an invisible hand.
‘Never try to put pressure on me again,’ Rustam warned him when the slapping session was over. ‘Do you understand, Inquisitor?’
Before Edgar could decide what to say, if anything, I threw up my hand, feeling absolutely delighted that I hadn’t used my set of bracelets against Rustam, and fired off all four tongue-loosening spells against Edgar. The amulets on the Inquisitor’s body blazed up brightly, but they couldn’t absorb the full force of the blow.
‘Who was the vampire with you in Edinburgh?’ I shouted.
Edgar’s face contorted as he struggled painfully to hold back the word that was rising to his tongue. He failed.
‘Saushkin!’ he shouted.
Rustam laughed again and said:
‘Bye-bye!’
Afandi was suddenly himself again. It was as if a rubber doll had been slightly deflated – he lost height, his shoulders narrowed, wrinkles appeared on his face, his eyes dimmed, the hairs of his beard fell out and scattered.