portal, but beside it, stepping down neatly onto the marble floor.

'I'm really getting old,' he sighed. 'I missed the door . . .'

He looked at Witiezslav and broke into a broad smile.

'Well, just look who's here! Why didn't you drop in to see me?'

'I've been busy,' Witiezslav answered curtly. 'I think we need to resolve a few matters that have come up, as quickly as possible . . .'

'You've been spending too much time in the office,' Gesar sighed. 'You've become a total bureaucrat . . .Well, what do we have here?'

'There he is,' I put in.

Gesar gave me a smile of approval and looked at Timur Borisovich.

There was a sudden hush. Kostya had gone quiet after finishing his silent conversation with Zabulon, who was in no hurry to put in an appearance. Witiezslav had turned to stone. I was trying not even to breathe.

'That's curious,' said Gesar. He went over to Timur Borisovich, who was staring blankly straight ahead, and touched his arm. He heaved a sigh: 'Ai-ai-ai . . .'

'Do you know this man, Most Lucent Gesar?' Witiezslav asked.

Gesar turned towards us with an expression of profound sadness, and asked bitterly:

'Tell me, have you completely lost your grip? This is my own flesh and blood, Witiezslav! This is my son!'

'Really?' Witiezslav asked ironically.

Gesar took no more notice of him. He put his arms round the old man, who from the human point of view could have been his father. He stroked his cheeks affectionately and whispered:

'Where have you been all these years, my little one . . . and we end up meeting like this . . . They told me you'd died . . . they said it was diphtheria . . .'

'My heartfelt congratulations, Gesar,' said Witiezslav. 'But I should like to receive an explanation.'

Edgar reappeared in the bathroom. Perspiring, clutching a folder in his hands.

Still hugging his old son, Gesar replied:

'It's a simple story. Before the war I worked all over Uzbekistan. Samarkand, Bukhara, Tashkent . . . I was married. Then I was recalled to Moscow. I knew I'd had a son, but I never saw him. There was no time for that . . . there was a war on. Then the boy's mother died. And I lost track of him.'

'Not even you were able to find him?' Witiezslav asked suspiciously.

'Not even me. According to the documents, he had died. Of diphtheria . . .'

'This is like a Mexican soap opera,' Edgar protested. 'Most Lucent Gesar, do you claim never to have met this man?'

'Never,' Gesar said sadly.

'You have never spoken to him, never, in contravention of all the rules, offered to help him become an Other?' Edgar persisted.

Gesar looked at the magician ironically.

'Esteemed Inqusitor, if anyone knows, you should, that a human being cannot become an Other.'

'Answer the question!' said Edgar, half-asking, half-ordering.

'I have never seen him, never spoken to him and never made any promises to him. I did not send the letters to the Watches and the Inquisition. I did not ask anyone to meet with him or send those letters. The Light bears witness to my words!' Gesar rapped out. He flung out his hand – and for an instant a petal of white fire blossomed on it. 'Are you casting doubt on what I say? Claiming that I am the traitor?'

Gesar had grown taller, as if some spring had straightened out inside him. You could have hammered nails into that look in his eyes.

'Are you accusing me?' Gesar continued, raising his voice. 'You, Edgar? Or you, Witiezslav?'

Kostya was too slow to back away and he was caught in that withering glance:

'Or you, vampire-boy?'

Even I felt like hiding. But deep in my heart I was laughing. Gesar had put one over on everyone. I didn't know how he'd managed it, but he had.

'We would not dare even to surmise such a thing, Most Lucent Gesar,' said Witiezslav, the first to bow his head. 'Edgar, your questions were phrased impolitely.'

'I apologise,' Edgar said, hanging his head. 'Forgive me, Most Lucent Gesar. I am profoundly sorry.'

Kostya was gazing around in panic. Was he waiting for Zabulon? No, that wasn't likely. On the contrary, he was hoping the Dark One's chief wouldn't turn up for his share of the taunts.

And Zabulon wouldn't turn up, I realised that. A European vampire who, for all his great power and centuries-old wisdom, had lost his touch for intrigue, might fall into a trap. But Zabulon had realised straight away that Gesar wouldn't leave himself open