down!'
Edgar swore and asked:
'What did you beat it down with?'
'Dust and Ashes. It was lucky I just happened to know it... '
'Tremendous!' Edgar said sarcastically. 'By sheer chance a young Moscow magician happens to remember a spell against golems that hasn't been used in a hundred years!'
'Are you trying to stitch me up already?' I laughed. 'Come and join me, you'll like it here. And by the way, swot up on those spells against golems ?the word is that there's another one on the loose.'
'This is an absolute nightmare...'Edgar muttered. 'I'm in Crete. Standing on the beach in my swimming trunks. My wife's rubbing suntan lotion on my back. And they tell to be in Amsterdam in three hours and set out immediately for Uzbekistan! What do you call that?'
'Globalisation, sir,' I answered.
Edgar groaned into the phone. Then he said:
'My wife will kill me. This is our honeymoon. She's a witch, by the way! And they summon me to lousy Uzbekistan!'
'Edgar, it doesn't become you to say "lousy" like that,' I said, unable to resist another jibe. 'After all, we all lived in the same state once upon a time. Consider it your deferred patriotic duty'
But Edgar was obviously not in the mood for sarcasm or exchanging jibes. He heaved a sigh and asked:
'How will I find you?'
'Call me,' I replied simply, and cut the connection.
'The Inquisition,'Alisher said with a understanding nod. 'They've caught on at last. Well, they'll certainly find a few things to do here.'
'They could start by cleaning out their own backyard,' I said. 'They've got someone beavering away on the inside.'
'Not necessarily' said Alisher, trying to intercede for the Inquisition. 'It could be a retired Inquisitor.'
'Yes? Then how did anyone find out that Geser had sent us to Samarkand? He only informed the Inquisition!'
'One of the traitors is a Light Healer,' Alisher reminded me.
'Are you saying it's a Higher Light One from our Watch? A Healer? Working for the enemy?'
'That could be it!' Alisher said obstinately.
'There has only ever been one Higher-level Light Healer in our Watch,' I reminded him calmly. 'And she's my wife.'
Alisher stopped short and shook his head.
'I beg your pardon, Anton! I didn't mean anything of the kind!'
'Ai, that's enough quarrelling!' Afandi said in his foolish old voice. 'The shurpa's gone cold! And there's nothing worse than cold shurpa. Apart from hot vodka!'
He looked around stealthily and passed his hands over the bowls of shurpa. The cold broth started steaming again
'Afandi, how can we talk to Rustam?' I asked again.
'Eat your shurpa', the old man muttered. And he showed us how.
I broke off a piece of a bread cake and started on my broth. What else could I do? The East is the East, they don't like to give a straight answer here. The best diplomats in the world come from the East. They don't say 'yes' or 'no', but that doesn't mean they abstain...
It was only after Alisher and I had finished our shurpa that Afandi sighed and said:
'Geser was probably right. He probably can demand an answer from Rustam. One answer to one question.'
Well, at least that was one small victory!
'Coming right up,' I said, nodding. Of course, the question had to be formulated correctly, to exclude any possibility of an ambiguous answer. 'Just a minute...'
'Why are you in such a hurry?' Afandi asked in surprise. 'A minute, an hour, a day... Think.'
'In principle, I'm ready,' I said.
'So what? Who are you going to ask,Anton Gorodetsky?'Afandi laughed. 'Rustam's not here. We'll go to see him, and then you can ask your question.'
'Rustam's not here?' I asked, struck almost dumb.
'No,' Afandi replied firmly. 'I'm sorry if anything I said might have misled you. But we'll have to go to the Plateau of the Demons.'
I thought I was beginning to understand how Geser could have quarrelled with Rustam. And I thought that Merlin, for all his evil deeds, must have been a very kind soul and an extremely patient Other. Because Afandi was Rustam. No crystal ball was needed to see that!
'I'll just be a moment... 'Afandi got up and went towards a small door in the corner of the chaikhana that had the outline of a male figure stencilled on it. It was interesting that there wasn't any door with a female silhouette. Apparently the women of Samarkand were not in the habit of spending time in chaikhanas.
'Well, this Rustam's a real character,' I muttered while he was gone. 'As stubborn as a mule.'
'Anton, Afandi's not Rustam,' Alisher said.
'You mean you