“If you come back,” Gennady growled.

“I’m sorry, but I think I know his chances are better than you believe,” Edgar snapped. “So, we’ll slip through passport control quickly, and you won’t try to attract the attention of the Others at customs. A Light One wouldn’t want any unnecessary casualties, right? We’ll get on the plane and you’ll have a cup of coffee, even a sip of brandy is permissible. And you’ll think. Think hard. So hard that I can hear your brains creaking. And it will be very good if by the time we reach Edinburgh you already know how to get the Crown of All Things. Because we don’t have any time to spare. Only twelve hours until the bomb goes off.”

“You bastard,” I said.

“No, I’m a highly effective personnel manager,” Edgar said with a smile.

Chapter 4

THERE ARE SOME WORDS THAT CAN SEND A MAN INTO A TRANCE WITHOUT using any magic.

For example: “Tell me something funny.” Even if you’ve just watched the finale of Test Your Wits on TV, read the latest Terry Pratchett book, and dug up ten really funny, fresh jokes on the Internet-that will all fly right out of your head in an instant.

The words “Sit and think” are pretty effective too. They immediately remind me of an algebra test or some quarterly essay at school, and the weary face of the teacher who no longer expects anything good from his pupils.

This time we were flying directly to Edinburgh, on Aeroflot. If this had been a standard assignment, I wouldn’t have minded at all. I liked what I’d seen of Scotland. And it was particularly nice that Edgar, of course, had taken seats in business class. Three infuriated people, who between them could obviously have bought the Boeing 767 we had been flying in, were left fuming at check-in when their tickets proved to be invalid. I didn’t say anything, but I felt hope beginning to warm my chest. Most human problems with double bookings or invalid tickets are actually caused by the machinations of certain light-fingered Others-most often Dark Ones, but sometimes Light Ones too. That’s why all such incidents are investigated by the Watches. Well, in theory all of them, but in practice only the ones that cause serious scandals. In this case it looked as if a really large-scale scandal was in the offing…

But I was afraid that the investigation still wouldn’t be as prompt as I needed it to be. Especially right then, when everyone all the way across Moscow was hunting for Saushkin.

The customs post at departures had also been reinforced. Instead of two Others on duty, there were four-in such cases parity is strictly observed. I had been hoping that perhaps they might use some of our lads for the reinforcements and they would spot me, but all of the Others were from outer Moscow, not the city. And before check-in, Edgar had given us false passports and applied high-quality masks that fourth-and fifth-level Others wouldn’t be able to penetrate. So I walked past my colleagues under the name of Alexander Peterson, resident of St. Petersburg. Gennady became Konstantin Arbenin, but what Edgar called himself, I didn’t hear.

Once I was on the plane and the flight attendant had brought the coffee and cognac that Edgar had promised, I realized that I had completely lost the game. Every now and then the furry noose around my neck, which had attracted glances of puzzlement at customs, squeezed a little bit tighter, or scratched at my skin with its tiny little claws…or teeth. Just about the only thing it didn’t do was purr while it waited for me to use any magic. I even remembered what the thing was called: Schrodinger’s Cat. Evidently because nobody had ever been able to decide whether this piece of trash was alive or dead. In the Inquisition they used Schrodinger’s Cat for transporting the most dangerous criminals. The lousy son of a bitch had never failed. And by the way, unless I was getting things confused, it was the only one of its kind. Edgar had stolen some truly unique artifacts.

“Drink your coffee,” Edgar said amiably. I had been put in the window seat, with Gennady beside me. Edgar sat behind us, and he made sure there was no one in the seat next to him: The perplexed but unresisting passenger was moved to somewhere in economy class, with showers of apologies and promises of countless bonuses in compensation. All in all, Aeroflot made a quite remarkably pleasant impression. No worse than the Western carriers, or even a bit better. It was just a pity I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the flight. I was in the wrong company for that.

I drank coffee and brandy by turns, watching out the window as the plane taxied onto the runway. Edgar whispered something behind my back-and the roar of the engines disappeared. A Sphere of Silence. Well, it made sense: Now no one would bother us, and no one would hear us. It was a good thing that, unlike the wizard Khottabych in the flying carpet fairy tale, Edgar had other ways of combating the noise apart from stopping the engines…

Proceed, if you are as strong as I;

Or go back, if you are as wise as I.

Merlin was mocking. Of course he was-mocking the hapless treasure hunters. But he still believed that he had to give a hint. That was in the unwritten rules of the game in those days. So there had to be a way.

Proceed-go back. Forward-backward…

Perhaps you had to pump up the momentum by swinging backward and forward, like trying to free a car that’s stuck in the mud-an art completely forgotten by the masses in this era of automatic transmissions. Reach the sixth level, jump back out, then back to the sixth and take a run straight through…

Absolute drivel. I had just barely managed to get as far as the sixth level once, pausing to catch my breath after every breakthrough. Even assuming that I could jump straight out of the depths of the Twilight like Gesar, I still wouldn’t be able to pump up my speed like that.

I started to go over it again from the beginning.

The Crown of All Things is here concealed. Only one step is left.

That was all clear enough. The inscription was on the sixth level. The Crown of All Things was hidden on the seventh. The cunning Merlin had left the signpost where only the most powerful and skillful magician could reach it…it felt really good that I had managed to get there!

But we weren’t told anything special in this line. It was a kind of preamble. An introduction. We could only hope that Thomas the Rhymer’s translation was adequate…but then it ought to be, coming from a great bard and an ancestor of Lermontov.

But this is a legacy for the strong or the wise-

This was more or less clear too. Merlin had left the decision on whether to use the artifact up to those who would be his equal. In power or wisdom-it didn’t matter which.

You shall receive all and nothing, when you are able to take it.

Right now, this was a bit more interesting. It looked as though Merlin believed that using the Crown might cause a global catastrophe. You shall receive all and nothing-or you shall receive everything, but not for yourself.

Or was I being like Edgar and Gennady, only seeing what I wanted to see?

What if you shall receive all and nothing meant that the whole world would be in your power, but it would be destroyed?

I didn’t know. I couldn’t understand. If only I could have read it in the original…

“Edgar, I have to make one phone call,” I said.

“What?” Edgar chortled. “Who to, Gesar? We’ve already been warned to switch our phones off.”

“Do you want me to produce a result? I have to ask Foma Lermont about something.”

Edgar didn’t hesitate for long. He closed his eyes, then nodded.

“Call. You have three minutes before we start to take off. But remember, I’m listening very carefully.”

It was a good thing I hadn’t erased Lermont’s number… I took out my phone and called. One ring, two…