Again it didn't add up.

Down below, Edgar began to stir. He sighed and his clothes rustled as he climbed up onto his bunk.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax as much as I could.

I imagined the rails stretching out behind the train… through the stations and the small halts, past the cities and the little towns, all the way back to Moscow, and the roads running away from the station until out beyond the Ring Road they were pocked by potholes and after the sixtieth mile they were transformed into strips of pulverized tarmac and went creeping toward the sleepy little village and up to the old log house…

"Svetlana?"

"I was waiting, Anton. How are you getting on?"

"Still traveling. But there's something strange going on…"

I tried to open myself up to her as much as possible… or almost as much as possible. To unroll my memory like a bolt of cloth on the cutter's table. The train, the Inquisitors, the conversation with Las, the conversation with Edgar and Kostya…

"It's strange," Svetlana said after a short pause. "Very strange. I get the feeling someone's playing games with you all. I don't like it, Anton."

"Me neither. How's Nadya?"

"She's been asleep for ages."

In this kind of conversation that only Others can have, there is no inflexion of the voice. But there is something that replaces it-I could sense Svetlana's slight indecision.

"Are you at home?"

"No. I'm… visiting a certain old lady."

"Svetlana!"

"I'm just visiting, don't worry. I decided to talk the situation over with her… and learn a bit about the book."

Yes, I ought to have realized right away that it wasn't just concern for our daughter that had made Svetlana leave us.

"And what have you found out?"

"It was the Fuaran. The real one. And… we were right about Gesar's son. The old woman thought that was hilarious… and she reestablished some useful contacts at the same time."

"And then she sacrificed the book?"

"Yes. She left it behind, absolutely certain that the secret room would soon be found, and the search would be called off."

"And what does she think about what's happened?" I carefully avoided using any names, as if a conversation like this could be tapped.

"I think she's in a panic. Although she's putting a brave face on."

"Svetlana, how quickly can the Fuaran turn a human being into an Other?"

"Almost instantly. It takes ten minutes to pronounce the spells, and you need a few ingredients… or rather, one… blood from twelve people. Maybe only a drop, but from twelve different people."

"What for?"

"You'd have to ask Fuaran that. I'm sure any other liquid would have done instead of blood, but the witch bound the spell to blood… Anyway, ten minutes' preparation, twelve drops of blood-and you can turn a human being into an Other. Or a whole group of people, just as long as they're all within your field of vision."

"And what level of Power will they be on?"

"It varies, but you can raise the level of the weak ones with the next spell. In theory you can turn any human into a Higher Magician."

There was something in what she'd just said. Something important. But I just couldn't grasp the thread yet…

"Sveta, what is the… old woman afraid of?"

"The transformation of people into Others on a massive scale."

"Is she planning to come in and confess?"

"No. She's planning to run for it. And I can understand her."

I sighed. We ought to have brought Arina to justice after all… if only the Inquisition hadn't charged her with sabotage. And then there was Gesar…

"Sveta, ask her… ask her if the Fuaran will acquire great power at the place where the book was written?"

A pause. What a pity this wasn't a cell phone and I couldn't talk to the witch directly. But alas, direct conversation is only possible between soul mates and people who have other close connections.

"No… She's very surprised. She says the Fuaran isn't tied to any particular place. The book will work in the Himalayas or Antarctica, or in the Ivory Coast if you like."

"Then… then find out if Witezslav could have used it? After all, he was a vampire, a lower Other…"

Another pause.

"He could have. Any vampire or werewolf could. Dark Ones or Light Ones. There are no limitations. Except for one-the book couldn't have been used by a human being."

"That's clear enough… Anything else?"

"Nothing, Anton. I was hoping she might be able to give us a clue… but I was wrong."

"Okay. Thanks. I love you."

"And I love you. Get some rest. I'm sure everything will be clearer in the morning…"

The subtle thread stretching between us snapped. I squirmed around on the bunk, settling down more comfortably. Then I couldn't help myself-I looked at the table.

The pointer of the compass was still rotating. The Fuaran was still on the train.

I woke up twice during the night. Once when one of the Inquisitors came to Edgar to relate that some reports or other were missing. The second time when the train stopped in Tambov and Kostya quietly left the compartment.

It was after ten when I got up.

Edgar was drinking tea. Kostya, looking pink and fresh, was chewing a salami sandwich. The pointer was rotating. No change at all.

I got dressed up there on the bunk and jumped down. I'd found a tiny piece of soap in the bundle of bedclothes, and that was the only item of personal hygiene I had.

"Here," Kostya muttered, moving a plastic bag over toward me. "I picked up a few things… in Tambov…"

The bag contained a pack of disposable razors, an aerosol can of Gillette shaving cream, a toothbrush, and a tube of New Pearl toothpaste.

"I forgot the aftershave," said Kostya. "I didn't think of it."

It wasn't surprising he'd forgotten-vampires and werewolves aren't any too fond of strong smells. Maybe the supposed effect of garlic, which was really quite harmless to vampires, was linked with the fact that it made it harder for them to find their prey?

"Thanks," I said. "How much do I owe you?"

Kostya shrugged.

"I've already given him the money," Edgar told me. "You're entitled to expenses too, by the way. Fifty dollars a day, plus food, on submission of the checks."

"It's a good life in the Inquisition," I quipped. "Any news?"

"Gesar and Zabulon are trying to make sense of Witezslav's remains." That was what he said-"remains"-in a solemn, official voice. "But it's hard to get much out of them. You know yourself-the older a vampire is, the less there is left of him after he dies…"

Kostya chewed intently on his sandwich.

"Sure," I agreed. "I'll go take a wash."

Almost everyone in the car was awake already. Only a couple of compartments where the merrymaking had been a bit too intense were still closed. I waited in the short line and then squeezed into the barracks comfort of the railway car's privy. Warm water oozed sluggishly out of the iron nipple of the tap. The sheet of polished steel that took the place of a mirror was unusable, spattered all over with soap. As I brushed my teeth with the hard Chinese brush, I recalled my nighttime conversation with Sveta.

There was something important in what Svetlana had said. There was-but it had gone unrecognized by both of us.

And I had to understand it.

When I got back to the compartment I was still no closer to the truth, but I did have an idea that I thought might lead somewhere. My traveling companions had already finished their breakfast and when I closed the door I got straight to the point.

"Edgar, I've got an idea. On a long stretch your guys unhitch the cars. One by one. To make sure the train doesn't stop, one of them monitors the driver. We watch the compass. As soon as the car with the book is unhitched-the pointer will turn toward it."