Semyon opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind.

“And what are the other parts of the key?” I asked. “Merlin’s Crystal Mace? Or perhaps Merlin’s Old Shoe?”

Lermont shook his head. Refusing to acknowledge my sarcasm, he said, “That’s the most unpleasant part of the story. You’ve already realized that Power goes pouring down out of our world to the lowest level of the Twilight from the spot above the hiding place, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, if you try to enter the Twilight when you’re inside the Dungeons, you can only get as far as the third level. After that there’s a barrier, a whirlpool of Power. It’s simultaneously a load that holds the hiding place down at the bottom of creation and a defense against the curious.”

“Not too many of the curious would even be able to get down to the third level…,” Semyon mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry, I’ll keep quiet!”

“Well then, Merlin’s Rune won’t help you get past the third level,” Foma went on. “I was certain that no one, apart from me, knew the secret, and I only discovered it by chance, when there was an accident beside the bridge… A young woman fell and ruptured an artery on a sharp metal rod…”

“Blood,” I said.

“Yes,” said Foma. “The second part of the key. If someone dies from loss of blood, then the Twilight is temporarily saturated with energy. The whirlpool on the third level calms down and you can get past it and go on deeper.”

“Does the person have to die?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked, as you can understand. Preserved blood is no use, we know that for certain. That’s why the killing in the Dungeons put me on my guard. But the protective spells on Merlin’s grave hadn’t been touched. No one had approached the grave, no one had tried to open it. And I relaxed, I put it all down to coincidence. But last night I decided to go to the grave.”

“And you found that it had been opened using a remote-controlled device?” I said. “Right? Something like those robots they use at nuclear power stations.”

“How did you know?” Lermont asked, incredulous.

“Last night someone shot at me with that,” I said, nodding toward the tripod with the rifle, which Semyon had leaned against the outside of the arbor. “An automatic radio-controlled shooting device.”

Lermont glanced at the weapon without the slightest interest. He smiled bitterly.

“We’ve gotten old, Anton. We pride ourselves on having gotten old…Gesar, Al-Ashaf, Rustam, Giovanni, me…all the other ancient ones who remember the world without electricity, steam trains, and gunpowder. The oldest magicians who know the most and are almost the most powerful. We have underestimated the new generation. Rockets, robots, telephones…” He chewed on his lips and looked at his neat little house with the same melancholy expression that I had sometimes seen in Gesar’s eyes.

It’s probably that melancholy look that allows me to forgive Gesar for everything he does in his job as head of the Night Watch.

“One of the young generation,” Foma went on. “One of the young generation, who knows how to use technology and is not afraid of it.”

“I think I know who it is,” I whispered. “Kostya Saushkin.”

“The Higher Vampire who took the Fuaran?” Lermont asked with a frown. “I know that story. But he was destroyed!”

“Nobody saw the body,” I said. “In any case, he wouldn’t be afraid to go down after Merlin’s legacy. And he’d use technology without the slightest hesitation. And beyond that, he must hate me. Enough to try to shoot me. It was my fault! I sent him off to die. He survived-and decided to take his revenge.”

“Anton, don’t be in such a hurry,” Semyon said reasonably. He explained apologetically to Foma. “Please don’t be angry, Mr. Lermont! Anton is still young and hotheaded. Yesterday he thought that Kostya was dead. Now all of a sudden he’s changed his mind. But what we have to worry about is something else. What do you think, Mr. Lermont, has the villain of the piece already found Merlin’s hiding place?”

“Merlin was a magician of the old school,” Lermont answered after a moment’s thought. “A key has to have three elements. Three is a magic number, a number of Power. Three, seven, and eleven.”

“Yes, prime numbers,” Semyon agreed, “that’s clear enough. But what about the third part of the key?”

“I discovered the second part by accident,” Lermont said. “I don’t know anything about the third. I can only assume that it must exist. I don’t even know what it is-an object, an incantation, a sacrifice, a time of day? Perhaps you have to enter the Twilight naked on the night of the full moon, holding a thistle flower between your teeth. Merlin was a great joker.”

We said nothing for a while. Then Lermont gave a forced smile. “All right, my friends. I have revealed all the secrets that I had. I can’t see any point in panicking ahead of time. Merlin’s hiding place will surrender its secret to a Higher Other of immense power who spills someone else’s blood in the Dungeons and gets his hands on the third part of the key. But what that third part is, no one knows. Let’s all calm down, go inside, and have a cup of tea.”

“The English tradition of tea-drinking!” Semyon said respectfully.

Foma gave him a mocking glance and corrected him. “Not English. Don’t forget that you’re in Scotland now. You are welcome guests in my home-”

“I have just one more question,” I said, interrupting Lermont. “Why did you invite Egor to Edinburgh?”

“You mean the young illusionist?” Lermont asked with a sigh. “I decided to take out an insurance policy. If there’s a serious conflict, then the first to suffer will be our Night Watch. I don’t have that many Battle Magicians. A Mirror is the best thing that can be used to oppose…”

“Oppose whom?” I prompted, realizing Lermont was not going to finish the thought.

The distant forefather of the Russian poet Lermontov gave me a look of annoyance so intense that I felt the full force of the same hot temper that brought a premature end to the Russian poet’s life.

“Merlin! Now are you satisfied?”

“You believe that he…”

“The one thing that Merlin always valued above all else was himself. And he could have given the name of the Crown of All Things to the means for bringing him back from oblivion. It would be his kind of joke.”

“Nothing of the sort has ever happened,” said Semyon, shaking his head.

“No, it hasn’t. But there have never been any other magicians like Merlin. His essence…his soul, if you like, could be slumbering somewhere down there, on the seventh level…until a sufficiently powerful magician can reach it. To put it crudely, until a stupid body arrives to provide Merlin’s black soul with a new receptacle! Would you be glad to see the Great Merlin back in the world? I certainly wouldn’t! And that’s the reason I need a potential Mirror Magician close at hand. Perhaps that might do the trick. A Mirror might possibly destroy Merlin. What don’t you like about that, Gorodetsky?”

“But you can’t do that!” I exclaimed with a feeling of anguish that surprised even me. Everything was muddled together in my head-Kostya, whom I had killed and who might still be alive; the Dark Magician Merlin, thirsting for resurrection; the totally unsuspecting Egor…“Ever since he was a child we’ve exploited him for our operations! And now are we going to throw him into hell, use the lad to protect ourselves against Merlin? He’s nothing but a boy!”

“All right!” said Lermont, also raising his voice. “You’ve advanced a convincing argument! Now let me lay out in front of you the personal files of all the potential Mirror Magicians. Will you point the finger? Choose a different candidate? There’s a girl of nine, a boy of fifteen, a young husband and father, a pregnant woman…they never live to old age in an indeterminate state, sooner or later they choose the Light or the Dark! They’re all young, all of them almost children! Will you take the choice on yourself and relieve me of this appalling responsibility?”