Never before had I found Lipotin so halting and at the same time so wordy. His eyes probed my face for any sign of a reaction so that he could adjust to the new situation. I could not suppress a brief smile at the pains he was going to:
“Unfortunately the charming Princess is wasting her time making me such attractive offers; the dagger does not belong to me.”
“Does not ... belong ...?” Lipotin’s astonishment was amusing to see.
“It was given to my fiancée.”
“Oh ... so that’s it.”
“That is the situation.”
The Russian cautiously tried a new tack:
“Gifts, I find, often have a tendency to be ... given. I have the impression that this gift is already – or could at any moment be – in your hand.”
I had had enough; I said brusquely:
“You are correct. The dagger is mine. And it will stay mine; it is very valuable.”
“Is that so? And why?” there was an undertone of mockery in Lipotin’s voice.
“There is much about this dagger which makes it exceptionally valuable to me.”
“But my dear sir, do you know anything about the dagger?”
“Its value is not visible to the naked eye, but if one looks into the coal scrying glass ...”
Lipotin was so startled and went so deathly pale that there would have been no point in his trying to conceal his consternation. He was clearly aware of this himself, for he suddenly changed his tone and attitude:
“How on earth ...? But you cannot look into the glass. You need the red powder. Unfortunately my supply has run out.”
“No need, my friend”, I interjected. “Fortunately there was a pinch left over.” And I pointed at the ashtray.
“And you ...? Without assistance ...? Impossible!” Lipotin had sprung up from his armchair and was staring at me dumbfounded. The surprise and fear were so patent that I was tempted to reveal all:
“Yes: I have inhaled the incense! Without the assistance of the red-cap monk – and without any help of yours!”
“Anyone who dares to do that – and is still alive to tell the tale – has overcome death.”
“Perhaps. But it does mean that I know of the nature, origin and value of the dagger – and of its future; or at least I have a strong intuition as to what it will be. Let us say that I am just as superstitious as the Princess or as you.”
Lipotin slowly sat down beside me. He was completely calm, but his whole being seemed changed. He took the half-smoked cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out in the onyx bowl, which was back on duty as an ash-tray. Then he ceremoniously lit a fresh one, as if to indicate that what was past, was past, and that a new round had begun. For a long time he sucked on the cigarette and puffed out the fragrant Russian smoke. I did not interrupt his enjoyment; I was determined to wait and see what would come. When he realised this he lowered his lids and started:
“True, true. Well, that changes the whole situation. You know about the dagger. You intend to keep the dagger. You have won the first round.”
“You are not telling me anything new”, I said, completely relaxed. “Anyone who, like myself, has come to understand the nature of time and to see things in it not from outside but from within, anyone who has progressed beyond dreams to fate, beyond fate to where reality appears in its pure forms, will find the right names at the right moment of the conjuration and the demons will obey.”
“O..b..ey?” Lipotin drew out the word. “May I give you a piece of advice? The most dangerous demons are the ones that you call up yourself. Take that from someone who knows of old – of very old – these shadow worlds that cling to relics of past days. But the truth is, sir, that you have been called, for you have made yourself master over death; that much I can see. I can also see, to my astonishment, that you have resisted a number of challenges; but that does not mean that you have been chosen, by any means. The worst enemy of the victor is arrogance.”
“Thank you for your honest opinion, Lipotin. I must admit that I assumed you were with the enemy.”
Lipotin raised his heavy eyelids in his usual languid manner:
“I, my dear sir, am on no side at all, for I am only a ... Mascee: I support whoever is the stronger.”
The expression on the desiccated features of the old antiques dealer was an indescribable mixture of sceptical irony and profound sorrow, yes, even disgust.
“And you think I am ...?” I crowed.
“For the moment I think you are the stronger. And that is why I am ready to serve you.”
I did not respond but just stared into space.
With a swift movement he sat up:
“So you want to thwart Princess Shotokalungin? But, my dear Sir, that is impossible. It is true that she is a woman possessed; but are not you a man possessed? If you don’t know that yourself, then the worse it is for you. And she comes from Colchis; most likely one of her ancestors was called Medea.”
“Or: Isaïs,” I added in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Isaïs is her spiritual mother.” Lipotin’s swift response was just as factual in tone. “You must learn to distinguish clearly if you want to master her.”
“Do not worry; I shall master her.”
“Do not overestimate your strength. Since the world began
