But she was a Higher Other too. And while the Fuaran had made me a Magician Beyond Classification by chance, Arina had obviously worked long and hard on her skills. She brushed aside my Press with a wave of her hand: the flowering orchids behind her seemed to explode and a banister rail went hurtling out of the pavilion. How right Fan had been when he decided not to meet in the museum!
I stood there, bent over slightly, waiting for what would come next.
Strangely enough, it wasn’t exactly an attack. Arina used a Triple Key – but one so powerful that my entire mental defence cracked and gave way.
‘Understand me!’ Arina screamed.
And I really did understand her. I felt her pain at what she had once done. Her hate for her own self-assurance and her own cowardice. Her reluctance to fight with me – and her readiness to fight to the end.
It all came down to me not wanting to let her have the prophecy without having thought the matter through properly.
‘Now you understand me!’ I retorted, flinging a Triple Key back at her.
It was the most absurd combat of my life. We stood there facing each other, brimming over with Power, with death-dealing spells trembling on the tips of our fingers – but without feeling the slightest hate for each other, understanding each other to the very depths of our souls …
And then the air around us was filled with a loud crackling and Others started pouring out of the portals that had opened up.
Fan had summoned the Inquisition.
Arina called up the situation instantly. A gust of fiery wind swept out in all directions, more as a distraction than a real attempt to delay the Inquisitors. Then I saw Arina smiling, standing in the middle of the ring of fire in a man’s trousers and jacket that were too large for her. With painful slowness, it seemed to me, although it could hardly have taken more than a second, Arina pulled a wallet – my wallet! – out of the jacket’s inside pocket and opened it. The flash stick jumped out onto her palm … and Arina disappeared. The wallet hung in the air for a moment, like in a cartoon film, and then fell.
Arina had probably been clutching the Minoan Sphere in her left hand the whole time.
I lowered my eyes to examine myself.
Yes, the long skirt and turquoise blouse had looked better on Arina than on me. And what was worse, her clothes were obviously too small for me and were already coming apart at the seams.
‘Halt!’ barked one of the Inquisitors when I leaned down to get my wallet.
‘Mr Anton Gorodetsky offered resistance to the criminal and is not guilty in any way,’ Fan said quickly. ‘There should be no charges against him!’
Perhaps Fan possessed incontrovertible authority, or perhaps the Inquisitors were simply obsessed by dreams of catching Arina – but in any case all five or six of them disappeared into the portals that had opened up again.
‘It’s useless,’ I said, clutching the wallet in my hand. ‘A Minoan Sphere can’t be traced. There’ll be an entire tree of false trails branching out to eternity.’
‘They are obliged to try,’ Fan said politely. ‘It is their job. Can I help with your clothes?’
‘I’ll manage,’ I said, frowning. ‘I’ll apply a false appearance, and I have spare clothes at the hotel.’
‘A very elegant spell,’ Fan said. ‘I simply can’t imagine for what purpose it was created.’
‘Arina’s a great joker,’ I said, sitting down and pouring myself some tea. ‘The old crone – she tricked me after all …’
‘But she left you your documents and money.’
‘What’s true is true,’ I agreed. ‘She always did have style. But that flash stick …’
Fan spread his hands helplessly. The shield that he had pumped full of Power, which made the Taiwanese look slightly hazy, was slowly dissolving into the Twilight.
‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I’ll probably finish my tea, go back to the hotel and get changed. And then I’m going home.’
Part Three
DUBIOUS DOINGS
PROLOGUE
ANTON GORODETSKY WAS watching TV.
He wasn’t one of those people who don’t have a television on principle, or who proudly declare that they haven’t switched it on for years. To tell the truth, he did watch it sometimes – the news almost every day, and even some film or other a couple of times a year, if he came across it on the airwaves by chance.
But right now he was watching TV thoughtfully, with serious intent. And the fact that he was switching from channel to channel every five seconds by no means indicated that he wasn’t concentrating.
Click.
‘Accused, why did you go to visit the victim?’
‘Well … I … wanted to have a drink with him … And he …’
Click.
‘… the verdict of the court is thirteen years’ imprisonment to be served in a strict-regime penal colony. The defence have already stated that they will appeal, and the guilt of the accused is in no way …’
Click.
‘… went off course and failed to enter orbit. But the specialists emphasise that the satellite was insured …’
Click.
‘… the size of the average pension will increase by eleven per cent to five thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four roubles …’
Click.
‘… and those terrible years, the decades of repression and tyranny, did not break the artist’s spirit, he carried on working and exhibiting his works, in defiance of the Communist regime …’
Click.
‘… advanced technologies. The scientists tell us that using them to produce nanotechnological cement will make possible a significant improvement in the quality …’
Click.
‘… it is proposed to remove the children from the family, since the parents’ level of income is inadequate to provide appropriate care …’
Click.
‘What I say is this, commander: if we try to withdraw, their blocking units will gun us down, but if we surrender, then at least there’s some kind of chance …’
Click.
‘… the largest in Europe! And this is indisputable proof that the policy being pursued is correct …’
Click.
‘The oysters in this restaurant are the best in Moscow, but the wine really is quite pricey – I couldn’t find anything decent for less than five or six thousand …’
Gorodetsky turned the television off, even though he still had ten channels left. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Anyone who said TV wasn’t worth watching was a fool. It was just that you ought to do it once every three or four months. That way it was more than just a blurred flickering in your eyes.
But, of course, if you only watched it every three or four years, that was even more instructive.
He walked over to the window and looked at the low grey sky hanging over the city. Then he slowly rubbed his hand over the cold glass.
The clouds parted and a chink opened up in the sky – a tiny little eye of dark blue. Somewhere behind the shroud of clouds the sun was setting.
Anton shoved his hands into his pockets, took out the little round earphones and set them in his ears. He clicked the button on the player. The band Picnic came up.