“Actually it doesn’t. Their aura is just covered over with gray. A powerful magician can look through the disguise—underneath it’s the same as it was before. Either Light or Dark. They don’t change their essential nature.”

“So that’s the way of it,” said Las, raising one eyebrow. “So why couldn’t it be an Inquisitor, then?”

“An Other with a gray, obscure aura—a tiger? Just doesn’t tally, does it? Bearing in mind how precisely Pastukhov characterized us.”

“Then who is he?” asked Las, bemused.

“Gesar can decide that one too,” I replied. “He’s got a big brain in his head. He’s lived in this world for a long time. Let him think about it.”

“Yes, that’s the right approach, definitely!” Las said approvingly. “Listen, I was just thinking . . . this polizei lied to his partner about wanting to go to the can . . .”

“Right . . .” I agreed, nodding. We’d just driven into the yard of a tall building, and Las was looking for a parking place.

“He lied about it first. And then he really did mess himself.”

“Out of fright,” I concluded.

“All the same, it’s an unusual coincidence.”

I didn’t say anything. There was a grain of good sense in what Las had said. When there are strange things going on all around, every coincidence should be considered very carefully.

“Let’s go,” I said, climbing out of the car. “We’ll have a word with this Bisat—and then we’ll do some thinking.”

More out of habit than in the expectation of seeing anything unusual, in the entrance hall I shifted into the Twilight. The policeman lived on the first floor—public-service accommodation isn’t often allocated on the prestigious upper floors. There was nothing unusual on the ground floor here. Blue moss, the parasite of the Twilight, covered all the walls in an even layer, flourishing especially thickly in the corner beside the radiator and in front of the door of the elevator. It was all predictable: young couples kiss beside the radiator before the girl straightens out her clothes and runs back home to mum and dad . . . or to her husband and children. And people swear in front of the elevator doors when they discover that the elevator’s broken and they have to walk up to the twelfth floor, or they rejoice quietly in anticipation of getting back home . . . I cast fire in all directions with habitual gestures, incinerating the parasite. It can’t be exterminated completely, of course, but for any Other this is the same as wiping his feet when he walks into someone’s home.