"You're an absolute zero," I said. "You're an absolute vampire."

"Vampire, magician… what's the difference? I'm an absolute Other."

"You're right, there is no difference. We all live off human Power. And you're not the most Powerful of all-you're the weakest. You're an absolute vacuum, sucking in Power that isn't yours."

"So be it." Kostya wasn't going to argue. "That doesn't change a thing, Anton. You can't stop me, and I'm going to carry my plan through."

He paused for a second, then said, "But you still won't join me… What's going on in your head?"

I didn't answer. I drew in Power.

From Gesar and Zabulon, from Dark Ones and Light Ones, from the good and the evil. Somewhere far away those I loved and those I hated were all giving me their Power. And right then it made no difference to me if that Power was Light or Dark. We were all in the same boat now-in the same small boat out in space, adrift in the absolute void…

"Go on, strike," Kostya said contemptuously. "You won't take me by surprise again."

"Strike," Gesar whispered. "Strike with the White Mist."

The knowledge of what the White Mist was came creeping into me together with the Light Power. The knowledge was terrible, frightening-because even Gesar himself had only ever used that spell once, and afterward he'd sworn never to use it again…

"Strike," Zabulon advised me. "Better use Shades of the Rulers."

The knowledge of what Shade of the Rulers was slid into me together with the Dark Power. The knowledge was disgusting and horrifying, because not even Zabulon had ever dared raise those shades from the fifth level of the Twilight…

"Strike," said Edgar. "Use the Sarcophagus of the Ages. Only the Sarcophagus of the Ages!"

The knowledge of what the Sarcophagus of the Ages was flooded into me with the Power of the Inquisitors. The knowledge was spine-chilling-because the one who used the spell remained in the sarcophagus with his victim forever, until the universe came to an end.

"What if I put a hole in his spacesuit?" asked Las, standing in the doorway with his pistol.

An absolute Other.

An absolute zero.

The most powerful of all, the weakest of all…

I gathered together all the Power I had been given and put it into a seventh-level spell-one of the very simplest, one every Other can manage.

The Magician's Shield.

So much Power had probably never been wasted so senselessly.

And now probably not a single magician in the world was so reliably protected.

Against everything.

A white reticulated cocoon appeared around me. The threads of the cocoon crackled with the energy streaming through them. It was rooted way down in the deepest depths of the universe, beyond the countless levels of the Twilight, where there is no matter, or space, or time-nothing that a human being or Other can comprehend.

"What are you doing?" Kostya asked, with an expression of childish resentment on his face. "What are you doing, Anton?"

I didn't answer. Just stood there, looking at him. I didn't want even the shadow of a thought to show on my face. I wanted him to think whatever he wanted to think.

Let him.

"Are you frightened?" Kostya asked. "You… why you… you're a coward, Anton!"

I didn't answer.

And the Higher Ones were silent too. No, probably they weren't. They were shouting, swearing, cursing me-because I'd squandered all the Power they'd collected on absolute protection for myself.

If they hit Baikonur with a thermonuclear warhead now I'd be left safe and unharmed. Floating in a cloud of plasma, encased in boiling stone-but absolutely safe.

"I don't even know what to say…" Kostya shrugged. "And I wasn't going to kill you anyway. I haven't forgotten that you were my friend."

I didn't answer.

Forgive me, but I can't call you my friend any more. And that's why you must not realize what I have realized. You must not read my thoughts.

"Goodbye Anton," Kostya said.

The technicians came over to him and lowered the glass shield of his helmet. He cast a final glance at me through the glass-a glance of incomprehension and resentment. And turned away.

I was expecting him to open the portal into space there and then. But Kostya had made his preparations for the leap thoroughly. What would I know-I'd never even heard of anyone attempting to transport themselves on board an airplane in flight, let alone a space station in orbit.

Abandoning the cosmonauts and the personnel in their state of trance, Kostya walked out of the hall. Las moved aside and squinted at me, holding up the pistol.

I shook my head, and he didn't shoot.

We simply followed him.

Into the space flight control hall, where the technicians and programmers were all sitting at their computers like sleep walkers.

When had he found the time to subject them all to his will?

Could he really have done it all the moment he reached Baikonur?

An ordinary vampire can easily keep one or two people under his control. A Higher Vampire can manage about twenty.

But Kostya really had become an absolute Other-he had the entire fine-tuned mechanism of the huge cosmodrome dancing to his tune.

They brought Kostya some kind of printouts. They pointed out something to him on the screens. He listened and nodded- and never even looked in our direction once.

A clever boy. Well-educated. He studied in the physics faculty, then moved to biology, but it looked like he'd maintained his enthusiasm for physics and math. Those diagrams and graphs wouldn't have meant a thing to me, but he was preparing to put up a magical portal directly into orbit. To go out into space using magical means-one small step for an Other, one giant leap for all mankind…

Just don't let him drag it out too long.

Just don't let Gesar panic.

Just don't let them make that nuclear strike-it won't do any good, and there's no need-there's no need!

Kostya didn't look at me until after he'd opened the prism of the portal. He stared at me with that contemptuous resentment in his eyes. The lips behind the glass moved and I realized what they'd said: "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," I agreed.

With his life-support pack in one hand and the briefcase containing the Fuaran in the other, Kostya stepped into the portal.

Then I allowed myself to remove the shield-and all that Power that wasn't mine zoomed away from me, spreading out in all directions.

"Just how do you propose to explain all that?" Gesar asked.

"What exactly?" I sat down in the nearest chair. I was shaking. How long would the air supply last in a light spacesuit that was never intended for spacewalking? A couple of hours? It was unlikely to be more.

Kostya Saushkin didn't have very long left to live.

"What makes you so sure…" Gesar began. Then he stopped. I even thought I heard him exchange a few remarks with Zabulon. Something about orders that had to be rescinded, about bombers that had to be returned to base. About the team of magicians that would start covering up the traces left by the outrageous events that had taken place at Baikonur. About the official cover story for the failed launch.

"What happened?" Las asked, sitting down beside me. The technician he had unceremoniously shoved off the chair gazed around, perplexed. People were gradually recovering their wits.

"That's it," I said. "It's all over. Or almost all over."

But I knew it wasn't really over yet. Because somewhere high in the sky, up above the clouds, in the cold starlight, the absolute Other was tumbling over and over in his stolen space-suit. Kostya Saushkin. He was trying to open a portal-but he couldn't. He was trying to get to the space station drifting past him-he couldn't. He was trying to get back to Earth-but he couldn't.

Because he was an absolute zero.