with a quick glance at the charge indicator. Well, well ?the battery was almost full. In Moscow my phone went flat in a single day, even though I didn't talk very much. But abroad, it worked quite happily for a week. Were the pylons here planted closer together, or something?
Now for another part of the job. An unpleasant part.
I took out the carving of the wolf and set in on the table.
Contact, advice, protection?
I grasped the figure with both hands and closed my eyes. Perhaps that wasn't how it worked?
'Zabulon!'
Was that someone's gaze I seemed to sense?
As far as I could recall, Zabulon never responded immediately Not even when his lover called.
'Zabulon!'
'Why are you shouting like that, Gorodetsky?'
I opened my eyes. There was no one there, of course.
'I need some advice, Dark One.'
'Ask.'
It was a good thing that almost no emotion at all is transmitted in this kind of conversation. Zabulon was probably chuckling to himself. A Light One coming to him for help!
'Zabulon, when the Mirror Magician came to you, did you summon him?'
That obviously wasn't the question he'd been expecting.
'The Mirror? Vitaly Rogoza?'
'Yes.'
A pause. No, he knew the answer all right: he was deciding whether to tell the truth or to lie.
'A Mirror cannot be summoned, Light One. They are children of the Twilight.'
'Then what has to happen for a Mirror Magician to appear?'
'One Power has to acquire a significant advantage over the other. And it has to be a sudden imbalance, acquired too quickly The Mirror came because Geser was raising Svetlana's level too rapidly, he brought Olga back into play and... and he rewrote your future daughters destiny to make her the Greatest of the Great.'
'Is it possible to foresee who will be the next Mirror Magician?'
'It is. He is an Other whose own fundamental Power is minimal. He must have no love for the Light or for the Dark. Or, on the contrary, he must love the Light and the Dark. A human being, and an Other, who stands at the fork in the road and makes no distinction between Light and Dark. There are individuals like that, but they are rare. In Moscow there are two of them ?Victor's father and... your little friend Egor. But then, he's already grown up now, isn't he?'
'Why did Rogoza come from Ukraine?'
'Because we're not the ones who decide who's going to be a Mirror. I was rather hoping that he would show up, but nobody ever knows anything in advance. A Mirror Magician might come, or he might not. He can appear straight away, or he can take days, even months, to reach the place where the equilibrium has been disrupted. Have I satisfied your curiosity?'
'Yes.'
'Then I expect a courtesy in return. Who killed Victor? And what have Mirror Magicians got to do with it?'
'You won't like this information, Zabulon. I think that Victor was killed in order to discredit the Scottish Night Watch. They own the tourist attraction. And as for the Mirror ... I'm afraid that the situation here might be destabilised. So badly that a Mirror Magician will turn up. Are there any candidates for the role in Edinburgh?'
He believed me. At least, I thought he believed me. He answered thoughtfully:
'I don't know. I've never tried to find out.'
'Then that's all for the time being. If you do find out, please let me know, if you would be so kind.'
Without bothering to wait for his mocking chuckle, I opened my hand and cut off the contact. The figurine was gleaming with sweat, which made it seem almost alive.
That was it: time to go back to the hotel. To that cosy deluxe apartment for Light Ones, that kingdom of white and pink and beige, those lace curtains and silk sheets.
My phone jangled.
'Hello?' As I pressed the phone to my ear, I caught the waiter's eye and ran one finger across my open palm, as if I was writing out a bill. The waiter gave a laboured smile, glanced at the soli tary cup standing in front of me and scribbled '?' on a piece of paper.
'Anthony, my friend,' Lermont said in English. That 'Anthony' told me immediately that there was someone there who was not supposed to know that I was Russian. 'How was my employee feeling when you left the Dungeons?'
'Just fine.'
'He's been killed, Anthony. Do you think you could come over?'
I hissed something unprintable and scooped the small change out of my pocket. Right ?the castle was there, the ravine and the bridge