In the car Nadka babbled away incessantly. Firstly, she was in raptures over the portal that Gesar had opened. She knew how to open portals herself all right, but in the first place she was strictly forbidden to do it, and in the second place there was something different about Gesar’s portal. Some kind of “subtle energy structure” and “personal selectivity.” Basically, Gesar had spent a tenth of the usual energy on opening it, and only those who were allowed could pass through it.

Secondly, Nadya felt very sorry for the little boy-Prophet. Because he lived with his mummy, but without a daddy. Because he hadn’t gone to the seaside. Because he was in the boring office without his mummy . . . although they had brought him some interesting toys—could she borrow the little helicopter to play with? Because he was too fat to be good at sports and they probably laughed at him at school.

Thirdly, Nadya was very proud that she’d given Gesar the right advice. No, she didn’t boast about it straight out, but she kept coming back to that moment . . .

Svetlana smiled gently as she listened to the chatter from the backseat. Then she said in a low voice: “I was very worried about you.”

“There was a whole army of us.”

“And what good did that do you? I don’t like these magical mystery thingamajigs.”

“That’s pure human atavism,” I sighed. “Others are supposed to love magic in all its manifestations. By the way, do you know what a Twilight Creature is?”

“It’s the first time I ever heard of it,” said Svetlana, shaking her head.

“Me too . . .”

“But I know!” Nadya exclaimed from behind us—that incredible ability children have to hear everything interesting, even if they never shut their own mouths for a second!

“Well?” I asked, pricking up my ears.

“If there are plants in the Twilight . . .”

“What plants?”

“Blue moss! Then there must be someone who eats it.”

“And who generally eats moss?” asked Sveta.

“Deer,” I replied automatically. “But this guy . . . he wasn’t anything like a deer. A bit of a maggot, maybe, but not a deer, no way . . .”

“Anton!”

“Now what have I said?” I growled. Nadya started giggling. “We’ve got a critical situation here,” I went on.

“It’s not critical any longer! Someone’s hunting the boy-Prophet. Well, so what? No one can stand up against the entire Watch, especially if the Dark Ones help too. Gesar will contact the Inquisition now, if he hasn’t done it already. They’ll scour the archives and find out what’s going on. It might possibly be some kind of sect. Like the Regina Brothers, remember? You’d better decide what you’d rather do—finish cooking the borscht or do Nadya’s maths with her,” said Sveta.

“I choose the maths,” I replied. “I don’t know how to cook borscht.”