"You knew about the formula of the cocktail?"

"Yes, of course. The Inquisition has discussed Saushkin's cocktail. The stuff doesn't work any miracles, it won't increase a vampire's strength beyond the natural limits. But it does allow a vampire to rise to his maximum potential without killing anyone…"

"Rise or sink?" I asked.

"If there's no killing involved, then rise," Edgar replied coolly. "And you didn't know… would you believe it…"

I said nothing.

Yes, I hadn't known. I hadn't wanted to know. What a hero. And now two Inquisitors were wearing black polyethylene and no one could do anything to help them…

"Let's drop it." Edgar decided. "What point is there now… He's flying after us, do you see?"

I glanced at the compass. Yes, it looked that way. The distance between us and Kostya, or rather, the book, hadn't changed, although the train was hurtling along at forty or fifty miles an hour. He had to be flying after us. He wasn't making a run for it after all.

"There has to be something he wants in Central Asia…" said Edgar, perplexed. "The only thing is…"

"We should summon the Great Ones," I said.

"They'll come," Edgar said casually. "I've informed them of everything, put up a portal… they're deciding what to do."

"I know what they're deciding," I muttered. "Zabulon's demanding that Kostya be handed over to him. And, of course, together with the Fuaran."

"No one's going to get their hands on the book, don't you worry."

"Apart from the Inquisition?"

Edgar didn't answer that.

I made myself more comfortable. Felt my jaw.

It didn't hurt.

But I was upset about the teeth. I'd have to go to a dentist or a healer. The trouble was that even the very best Light healers couldn't fix your teeth without any pain. They simply couldn't do it…

The pointer of the compass quivered, but maintained its direction. The distance hadn't changed-six or seven miles. So Kostya must have undressed and transformed into a bat… or maybe some other creature? A gigantic rat, a wolf… That wasn't important. He'd transformed, probably into a bat, and he was flying after the train, clutching a bundle containing his clothes and the book in his paws. Where had he been hiding it, the son of a bitch? On his body? In a secret pocket in his clothes?

He was a son of a bitch all right… but he had some nerve! The sheer insolence of it-to join in the hunt for himself, to come up with theories, give advice…

He'd duped everyone.

But in the name of what? The desire for absolute power? The chances of victory weren't all that good, and Kostya had never been particularly ambitious. Well, he was ambitious, of course, but without any manic ideas about ruling the world.

And why wasn't he making a run for it now? He had the blood of three Inquisitors on his hands. That was something that would never be forgiven, even if he gave himself up and confessed, even if he gave back the book. He ought to run, after first destroying the book that the tracking spell was linked to. But no, he was still carrying the book and following the train. That was just plain crazy… Or was he hoping for negotiations?

"How were you expecting to identify Witezslav among the passengers?" I asked Edgar.

"What?" The Inquisitor, lost in thought, answered after a pause. "A simple trick, the same thing you used: alcohol intolerance. We were going to get dressed up in white coats and carry out a medical inspection of the entire train. Supposedly looking for people with atypical pneumonia. We would have given everyone a thermometer well soaked in medical spirit. Anyone who couldn't take it in his hands or was burned would have been a suspect."

I nodded. It might have worked. Of course, we'd have been taking a risk, but taking risks was our job. And the Great Ones would have been somewhere close at hand, on call, ready to strike with all their might if necessary.

"The portal's opening…" Edgar grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me down onto the bunk. We sat beside each other, with our legs pulled in. A trembling white radiance filled in the compartment. There was a low exclamation-Gesar had banged his head against a bunk as he emerged from the portal.

Then Zabulon appeared-in contrast with my boss, he had a mellow smile on his face.

Gesar rubbed the top of his head, looked at me dourly and barked, "You might as well have put up a portal in a Zaporozhets automobile… What's the situation?"

"The passengers have been pacified, we've washed away the blood, the wounded agent is receiving treatment," Edgar reported. "The suspect, Konstantin Saushkin, is moving parallel with the train at a speed of forty miles an hour."

"No point in calling him a suspect any more…" Zabulon said caustically. "Ah, what a talented boy he was… what promise he had."

"You don't seem to have much luck with promising young colleagues, Zabulon," Edgar said in a quiet voice. "Somehow they don't stay around for very long."

The two Dark Magicians glared hostilely at each other. Edgar had old scores to settle with Zabulon-ever since that business with Fafnir and the Finnish sect. No one likes to be used as a pawn.

"Please refrain from sarcasm, gentlemen," said Gesar. "I could say a few things on my own account… to you, Zabulon, and to you, Edgar… How powerful is he?"

"Very powerful," said Edgar, still looking at Zabulon. "The guy was already a Higher…"

"Vampire," Zabulon said with a contemptuous laugh.

"Higher Vampire. Without much experience, of course… far less than you. But then he used the book, and became stronger than Witezslav. And that's already serious. I'm inclined to believe that Witezslav was on the same level as you are, Great Ones."

"How did he finish Witezslav off?" Zabulon asked. "Do you have any theories?"

"I do now," Edgar said with a nod. "Vampires have a hierarchy of their own. The boy challenged him to a duel for preeminence. It's not very… spectacular. A battle of minds, a duel of wills. Rather like a crude stare-down. After a few seconds one backs down and submits totally to the other's will. Whenever the Inquisition came up against vampires, Witezslav always subdued them easily. But this time he lost."

"And was killed," said Zabulon, nodding.

"That's not necessarily the outcome," Edgar observed. "Kostya could have made him his slave. But either he was afraid of losing control or he decided to see it through to the end. Basically, he ordered Witezslav to dematerialize. And Witezslav had no choice but to obey."

"A talented boy," Gesar said ironically. "I won't lie, Witezslav's final destruction doesn't exactly upset me… Okay, Konstantin has become more powerful than Witezslav. Just how powerful, what's your evaluation?"

Edgar shrugged.

"How can I evaluate that? He's more powerful than I am. I assume he's more powerful than either of you. Maybe more powerful than all of us taken together."

"Don't start a panic," Zabulon muttered. "He's inexperienced. Magic isn't arm-wrestling, magic's an art. When you have a sword in your hand, the important thing is to strike a precise blow, not just swing wildly with all your might…"

"I'm not panicking," Edgar said in a gentle voice. "It's just hard to assess his level of power. It's very high. I used the Crystal Shield-Kostya very nearly broke through it."

The Great Ones exchanged glances.

"The Crystal Shield can't be broken," Gesar observed. "And anyway, how could you… all right, I understand. More artifacts from the special vault."

"He very nearly broke through the shield," Edgar repeated.

"And how did you manage to survive?" Gesar asked me. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I heard a note of sympathy in his voice.

"Kostya didn't want to kill me," I said simply. "He went for Edgar… at first I hit him with the Gray Prayer,"-Gesar nodded in approval-"… and then I found some vodka and I splashed it in his face. Kostya went wild. But he still didn't want to kill me. Then the Inquisitors distracted him, he tore them to shreds and left."