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THIRTEEN

Asher had always loved Prague He’d visited it in the early eighties as a student, fascinated by the ancient walls and cobblestone streets of the Bohemian capital, and had felt hi to its cruh rational by nature, he had returned again and again in his studies to the sense that the city was a threshold – praha, in Slavic – to those strange pre-Christian beliefs that even then were his deepest joy Froue he had trekked to the nearby mountains a dozen times, to study curious verb-forms – in Slovak, Czech, Serbian and dialects even more obscure – and even es where the Slovak had lived cheek-by-joith the Turk for half a millennium

If any town in Europe would have vaue

Ysidro had taken a house in the Old Town that had the look of having originally been a gatehouse to sohtless as the pit of Hell, where Asher paid his porters to deposit the trunks and luggage The journey from Germany into Bohe companion for a day and a half Only the presence of the train tickets, and the Prague addresses jotted on a slip of notepaper in the Berlin apartment, had informed him that their quarry was not in the Ger on

His own temporary residence, on the other side of the river in the Lesser Town, had some extremely Elizabethan inequalities of floor level between parlor and bedcha that rely of his student days As he walked back across the great bridge in the chilly spring twilight from an afternoon spent in the paneled book-roo his steps towards what had been the Ghetto and calling on one of his old ht be established between himself and Ysidro by the localti the dark street, the starry blackness above the town’s steeples, after the city’s lights winked out

James,

For three years past, the Master of Berlin has sensed the coht times in a year: subtle, clever, and unseen Because this outsider does not hunt, he has not seen him, or her Yet he is aware of the presence, and ahen that presence departs, after a stay of two nights or three

I still seek the Master of Prague

There is a strangeness in this city For your life, do not be on the streets when darkness falls

‘Are there vaue?’

‘James’ Old Dr Solomon Karlebach ducked his head a little – a habit Asher remembered from his student days – and peered at his for eyebrows These days the expression of hisAssyrian beard ‘And you a man of science’ The old man – and he’d been old, Asher reflected, when he’d first htest surprised to see hirandchildren of the household had brought hiuest Even the fact that his former student was now three-fourths bald and embellished with black American side-whiskers and a pince-nez didn’t see through the disguise

‘True science lies in keeping an open esture and seated himself on one of the faded chairs hich the parlor was so superabundantly provided With the curtains drawn to muffle the noise from the narrow street, every object in the room seemed to be the same indeterminate shadow-color, even as he reloos Half a dozen laes, provided a queer glittering quality to the darkness, galaxies of nearly-invisible stars ‘At least so you were always telling me I have recently wondered if there were some reason behind your certainty’

‘Ah’ The old Jew settled back in his velvet chair (red? purple? brown?) and stroked his beard His advancing age showed itself most in his hands, which Asher was distressed to see were so twisted with arthritis that the growing yellos on the last two fingers of each had left scars on the flesh of the pal has happened recently, which has caused you to wonder?’ His dark eyes went to the , as if to satisfy hiht still visible between the panes of the shadow-color brocade

‘Are there vaue?’

‘The world is full of varandson (or great-grandson) who brought in a silver tray with tea on it, served in the Eastern fashion, in ornalasses fitted into silver holders, with a little dish of sugar chunks to suck it through When the boy left: ‘Not all are Undead’

‘I know that’ Asher thought about his Chief at the Departn a sixteen-year-old boy who had been a friend to hi without pause for breath to the next mission he wanted him to undertake

‘L’chailass ‘And I think – from the scars on your neck and the silver chain I see under your right shirt-cuff – that you know yourself about the ones who are So tell me what you really want to know, Jamie About the vampires? Or the Others?’

Asher sipped his tea ‘Others?’ He had already seen, when his host had lifted his glass, that Dr Karlebach wore silver chains around his wrists – and probably his throat – as well

Karlebach’s beard shifted a little with his smile ‘Tell me why you ask’

‘I can’t’

‘Ah’ For a time the old man studied his face with sudden sadness in those sharp dark eyes ‘So you have become their servant, Jamie? Don’t trust them, my boy Whatever they have told you--’

‘I don’t’

But he did, in a way Even though he are that Ysidro had tricked hi in his search for the Lady Irenehis concern about the Kaiser, bo minimal at best

And he could see that Karlebach read his trust

The old ant white hed, Asher recalled, when he had told histo work for the Department ‘Very well’ The deep, rusty voice ru consonants of the Austrian German that the Kaiser and his followers in Berlin would barely have recognized ‘I don’t knoho – or even what – the Others are, but I think the vampires fear the I have never heard ue I’ve seen them – the few ties, and on the islands of the river They’re hard to spot If you don’t go looking for theenerally safe’

‘Are they a kind of vampire?’

‘They kill’ The old esture with those yellow-nailed hands ‘I think not so frequently as the vampires do, but also not so carefully So for years Sometimes they will kill a vampire: open its crypt, and summon rats – hom they have aa kinship – by the thousands, to devour it while it sleeps’

Asher was silent, appalled Was this what Ysidro had iven the deadly squabbles within the vampire coue too, cos that neither side could control?

I still seek the Master of Prague

There is a strangeness in this city

‘Ja he’d been silent, wrapped in the shadows of his thought Old Karlebach was still watching his face, reading him as he’d always been able to read hiain with theain ‘Don’t help them, don’t believe them, don’t let them live one moment beyond what it takes to destroy them safely No matter what they tell you, about why it is so necessary that you help the you to help the’

‘Is it that obvious?’ Asher tried to speak lightly, but the recollection of how Ysidro hadhim still He found hiht between the curtains had gone froone

‘I have studied theain and shook his head ‘Seventy years I have watched the I have read each book, each loss the length and breadth of Europe, and I know, as well as any living man knoho they are and what they do And how they do it’ His eyes were on Asher, as if he knew all about his drea war

‘Have you met them?’ But he already knew the answer to that Beneath that flowing ocean of beard, did his teacher bear scars of his own? ‘Do they know of yourresearches?’

‘Oh, yes’ Karlebach folded his misshapen hands