“Foma, I think the time has come for straight talking,” I said, and glanced at Semyon. “You don’t object if my friend is present.”

“Not at all. Gesar has vouched for him.”

“Foma, today I got a call from Zabulon, of the Moscow Day Watch.”

“I know who Zabulon is.”

“He told me…He asked me to ask you when was the last time you visited your neighbor in the grave.”

“Last night,” Lermont replied in a low voice.

“And Gesar…he asked about the Rune. Merlin’s Rune.”

“The Rune’s not in the grave,” Lermont said. He looked over at Semyon and asked, “What do you know about Merlin?”

“There was a magician of that name,” said Semyon, scratching the back of his head. “A Great Light Magician. A long time ago.”

Lermont looked at me and asked, “How about you?”

“I always thought Merlin was a mythological character,” I replied honestly.

“You’re both half right,” Lermont said, smiling. “The Great Light Magician Merlin really is a mythological character. The real Merlin was…not so nice. Yes, of course, he did help the young Arthur to draw the sword out of the stone and become king. Although Arthur had no right to the throne at all…that’s just between you and me. Merlin was not a thoroughly black-hearted villain. He simply used any means available to achieve his ends. If he needed to put a king who would listen to him on the throne, then he did. If the king had to inspire respect and love in his subjects-and of course he had to, why suffer unnecessary complications?-then he educated the king to be noble and high-minded. And the king could have his own royal toys to play with…a beautiful round table and brave knights. And did you know that Arthur’s ruin at the hands of a child born on a certain day was predicted even before Mordred was born? And do you know what the noble Arthur did?”

“I’m afraid to imagine.”

Lermont laughed. And then he recited off by heart from Morte d’Arthur, “‘Meanwhile did King Arthur order to be brought to him all the infants born to noble ladies and noble lords on the first day of May, for Merlin had revealed to King Arthur that the one who would destroy him and all his lands had been born into the world on the first day of May. And therefore did he order them all to be sent to him on pain of death, and many sons of lords and knights were sent to the king. Mordred was also sent to him by the wife of King Lot. Arthur did put them all in a ship and launch it to sea, and some were four weeks from birth, and some younger still. And by the will of fate the ship was driven ashore where a castle stood, and shattered, and they were almost all killed-but Mordred was cast up by a wave and picked up by a good man and raised until he did reach the age of fourteen years from birth, and then he brought Mordred to the court, as is told hereafter.’

“‘And many lords and barons of Arthur’s kingdom were outraged that their children had been taken away and killed, but they laid the blame for this more on Merlin than on Arthur. And either out of fear or out of love, they did keep the peace.’”

“A worthy successor to the good King Herod,” Semyon murmured.

I didn’t say anything. I was remembering an animated film that my little Nadya was very fond of. About the young King Arthur. About the funny, forgetful magician Merlin. I imagined the sequel, about how Arthur, egged on by Merlin, orders wailing, screaming infants who can’t understand what’s going on to be loaded into an old, dilapidated ship…

So this was the symbol of purity and nobility? The much-vaunted King Arthur of glorious legend?

“Not much like that fine young boy in the warmhearted Disney cartoon, is it?” Lermont asked, having apparently read my thoughts. “Or like that eccentric magician who took him under his wing? But you mustn’t blame Arthur. It was his destiny. That was the kind of teacher he had.”

“How did Mordred survive?” I asked.

Lermont’s eyes glinted ironically. “That’s hard to say. How did the boy Arthur become heir to the throne? Perhaps Mordred didn’t survive, but instead there were people who told some boy that he was Arthur’s son and his father had tried to kill him when he was a baby. What does it matter who he really was by birth? The important thing was who he thought he was.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Mordred? Of course not. He was only a human being. And so was Arthur. They departed this world a long time ago.”

“And Merlin?”

“He withdrew into the Twilight forever,” Lermont said with a nod. “But Merlin was a genuinely great magician. I think he was the greatest magician of all time. I think,” he said with a sideways glance at Semyon, “that Merlin was a zero-point magician.”

I nodded. I understood that. A magical “temperature” of zero. Merlin didn’t contribute a single drop to the streams of Power that permeate the world; he had absolutely none of it. And that was precisely why he was a great magician. He absorbed the Power of others, the Power that was diffused in space, and used it to work miracles.

No other magician so powerful had been born in the world since then.

But one such enchantress had been born. My daughter, Nadya.

“Merlin didn’t leave many artifacts,” Lermont continued. “He created them playfully, as if it took him no effort at all. Excalibur, of course. Merlin’s Cloak. Merlin’s Chalice. Merlin’s Crystal. Merlin’s Staff.”

“He didn’t bother himself too much about finding names for them, then?” Semyon said with a laugh, and then suddenly fell silent.

“Merlin’s Rune?” I asked.

Lermont shook his head.

“Merlin’s Rune is only a key, kept in Merlin’s grave, twenty-two miles from…from what is believed to be the grave of Thomas the Rhymer. Naturally, Merlin himself is not in the grave, but some traces of the great magician are preserved there. You may think me sentimental, but I often visit my own grave. Although I have never liked going to Merlin’s. I simply relied on the protective spells. But that was a mistake. The grave has been robbed.”

“I thought Merlin’s grave was in Brittany,” said Semyon.

“No, it lies to the south of Edinburgh. Near the little town of Peebles, at the confluence of the Tweed and the Powsel. It’s not very far from here.”

“And what does this rune consist of?” I asked.

“A stone. Charged to the hilt with magic and scratched all over with almost illegible signs. Merlin’s Rune”-Lermont hesitated and looked all around us, but continued nonetheless-“is the key, or rather, the main part of the key that allows access to a hiding place that Merlin once set up on the bottom of a lake. The lake has vanished long ago, but the hiding place, of course, is still there.”

“A hiding place in the Twilight?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Fifth level?”

Lermont sighed.

“I could get down to the fifth level myself, my young friend. Or I could call in Gesar. Or Andrew. Higher Ones can be found who are capable of reaching the fifth level. But this hiding place was made by Merlin. It’s right down at the very bottom. Which means it’s on the seventh level.”

“Oh, my sainted aunt!” Semyon exclaimed in delight. “The seventh! So the seventh level does exist! It’s not a fairy tale, then?”

“It exists, all right. Only, I don’t know anybody alive on this planet who is capable of getting there…” Lermont shrugged and spread his hands wide.

“What about the rest of the key? And the Rune?”

“As for the Rune…I’ve read the inscription-it gives instructions on how to get past a sentinel on the fifth level. But after that you have to go farther. I can’t do that.”

“Have you at least tried?” I asked.

“What for?” Lermont asked, throwing his hands up. “Why go down into the Twilight for Merlin’s heritage? Anton, you must have some idea now of what he was like…do you think there’s anything good down there?”

I shrugged.

“The hiding place is believed to contain the Crown of All Things,” said Lermont. “Sounds tempting, doesn’t it? But somehow I think that the Crown of All Things is really the End of All Things.”