Chapter 11 Chapter 2
Whether by plane or train, it's great to arrive in another city early in the morning.A brand new day has just begun.
On the plane, Alisher was still taciturn and preoccupied.I almost fell asleep all the way, while Alisher looked out the window silently, as if seeing something interesting on the ground far away in the night.When the plane started to descend in the morning, he asked me:
"Anton, you won't object to our being apart for a few hours?"
I looked at the young magician curiously.This was not included in Gesar's reminder.About her relatives and friends--or rather, about her lack of relatives and friends--Alisher has told the whole thing.
Of course, it is not difficult to guess who a young man who left his hometown in his twenties would like to meet.
"What's her name?" I asked.
"Adorat," Alisher replied unabashedly. "I want to meet her and see how she is doing."
I nodded and asked curiously:
"Does the name mean anything?"
"All names have meanings. You didn't ask Gesar to instill some Uzbek knowledge in you?" Alisher was very surprised.
"He didn't mention it," I faltered.Yeah, why didn't I think of that?But Gesar shouldn't be confused like this, right?All the major languages of the world must be learned—with the help of magical powers, of course.Stronger and more experienced magicians can instill less common languages into our consciousness.Gesar can, but Alisher can't...
"That is to say, he doesn't think you need to learn it," said Alisher thoughtfully. "interesting……"
Alisher seemed unable to imagine Gesar making a mistake.
"Can I use Uzbek?" I asked him.
"Not necessarily. Almost everyone knows Russian. Only idiots and today's children don't learn Russian... Anyway, you won't be regarded as an Uzbek." Alisher smiled slightly. "Adorat means justice, a beautiful name, right?"
"Not bad indeed," I agreed.
"She's a normal person," Alisher whispered. "But it has a good name, and it's very sunny. We read books together..."
The plane shook and the pilot lowered the landing gear.
"Of course you should go see her," I said. "I think I can find the patrol office myself."
"Don't think I want to be alone for a while because of her." Alisher smiled. "I think it's better for you to talk to the local patrol team alone. Show them Gesar's letter and discuss with them...I'll go there in an hour or two."
"You don't get along well with those colleagues?" I asked cautiously.
Alisher didn't answer, and that was the answer.
I walked out of the airport, apparently, it had just been remodeled and it looked modern.I only carry a satchel and a bag from the duty-free shop.I stopped and looked around.The dazzling blue sky, although it is still early in the morning, is already full of heat... There are not many passengers, our plane is the first flight arriving in the morning, and the next flight will not arrive until an hour later.The driver who did the private work immediately surrounded me and introduced his services in a hurry:
"Come on, dear!"
"I'll show you the whole city, free tour guide!"
"where to?"
"Sit in my car, my car is fine and has air conditioning!"
I shook my head, and suddenly caught a glimpse of an elderly Uzbek man standing quietly next to an old-fashioned "Volga" with a small grid painted on the body for taxis.
"Is it empty, old man?"
"Man is free only if he believes he is free," he replied philosophically.He spoke excellent Russian without an accent. "sit down."
Look, I've only just landed, and somehow I've started calling him "Old Man".And the driver's answer is full of oriental wisdom.I asked him:
"Which great man said this?"
"That's what my grandfather said. He was in the Red Army, then he became an enemy of the people, and then he became the leader of a state farm. Yes, he was indeed great."
"Is his name Rustam?" I asked with interest.
"No, his name is Rasheed."
The car pulls out of the parking lot and I face the wind blowing in through the window.The air is warm and fresh, completely different from Moscow.The roads are not bad, even by what is required of the capital.The tree walls on both sides shade the sun, giving people the feeling that they have already entered the city.
The driver said deeply:
"Air conditioning? All drivers these days promise their passengers that it will be cool in their cars. Did our grandparents and great-grandfathers know what an air conditioner is? They feel cool when they open the windows!"
I looked at him suspiciously, and he smiled:
"I'm joking. From Moscow?"
"yes."
"I don't have any luggage... oh-oh-oh! Is it lost?"
"Urgent business trip. No time to pack."
"Urgent? Nothing is urgent here. There was a city here a thousand years ago, two thousand years ago, three thousand years ago. It has forgotten what urgency is."
I shrugged.The car didn't really go fast.It's not annoying though.
"Then where are we going? There is the Samarkand Hotel in the city, and..."
"Thanks, no need to go to the hotel. I didn't come to sleep. I have to go to the market, the Siaby market in the old city."
"That's right!" The driver praised enthusiastically. "A person should know where he is going and why he is going. As soon as you fly in, go directly to the market. No luggage, no wife and children, no other trifles—that's how it should be! But, when you go to the market, you always bring money, right?"
"Take it," I nodded. "How can you go to the market without money? How much should I pay you? Do you charge som or ruble?"
"U.S. dollars and euros are fine too," the driver replied nonchalantly. "You see. I can see you're a nice guy, so why bother? If you pay a poor driver too little, the nice guy will be ashamed. He's definitely paying more than I'd like. "
"You're an excellent psychologist." I smiled.
The driver nodded:
"Really? Maybe... I did my PhD in Moscow, a long time ago..." He paused. "But psychologists are not very popular these days. You can earn more money driving a taxi."
He fell silent, and I didn't know how to respond.We have already driven to the city, and soon the driver gave me a detailed account of which places I should hurry to see when I arrive in Samarkand.The three Muslim schools and the Bibi-Khanem Mosque that make up the complex in the central square of the city... These buildings happen to be located next to the most famous Siaby Market in Samarkand. The driver just learned from me that the reputation of the mosque has long been passed to Moscow.The market is really something to look at, maybe even worth going to in the first place.You really shouldn't go there.Since I'm a good person, I wouldn't make such a mistake...
If the driver saw me passing the entrance of the market, he would probably be very sad.No, of course I want to go there.Work is work, but you should leave with some impressions of the city, right?
But not now.
I squeezed my way through the noisy crowd at the entrance of the market, surrounded by a group of Japanese tourists, (they actually came here!) No doubt all of them had pocket cameras and video cameras hanging from them.I headed in the direction of Bibi-Khanem Mosque.It's impressive indeed - huge dome with ceramic surfaces that glow blue in the sun.The entrance to the main entrance is very open, even surpassing the Arc de Triomphe in Paris in my opinion.Although there were no reliefs on the walls, the shiny blue bricks were carved with exquisite patterns.
But what I am looking for now is not a magnificent tourist attraction.
Every city has its less peaceful neighborhoods.Not all of them are located on the outskirts of the city.Sometimes it was near a gloomy factory building, sometimes it was next to a railway or a main road, sometimes it was near a park or a slope that the municipality had kept for no reason.People don't want to move to these places, and few people move from them-they seem to be caught by a long nightmare.The rules and rhythm are different there.
I remember that there was such a block in Moscow.There was a one-way street with a wooded slope beside it.It looks like an ordinary residential area, but it feels like a nightmare.I was there one evening in winter after receiving a false report.Turns out, the witches who made Ecstasy did hold a license.The unit’s car left first, and I stayed to make notes about non-compensation claims. After the end, I went out to take a taxi—I really didn’t want to call for a taxi and then sit at the witch’s house and wait.Although it was not too late, it was dark and snowing.There was not even a single person on the street. It seemed that people walked the other way after getting out of the subway station.The car also hid somewhere, and finally one occasionally passed by, but they were unwilling to stop.Next to the slope is a small playground surrounded by low walls: a ticket booth, two or three groups of carousel horses, and a children's railway—a rail circle with a diameter of about ten meters.There was solitude all around, and the fine snow was flying wildly. In this dark and gloomy playground, a toy locomotive pulling two carriages made rumbling noises while turning in circles, with colorful lights flashing on the car body.Sitting in the front seat was a little boy about five years old. He was motionless, his body was covered in snow, he was wearing a huge leather cap, and he was holding a small plastic shovel in his hand.Possibly the conductor's kid, no one in the house... nothing seemed wrong, but I felt so unwell that I flagged down a passing truck and slid back into town from there.
The night watch patrol is located in such a block, but the city is different.I don't need a map, I can feel how to go.It took me ten minutes to walk from the market in the city center.I seem to have entered another world.No, I didn't enter the gorgeous oriental fairy tales, but came to a mixed place, like being in the Asian part of the Soviet Union, but also like being in Turkey or a certain country in southern Europe.It has a half-European, half-Asian feel, but it's not the best features of the two continents that are incorporated here.Although there are green trees everywhere, the advantages are nothing more than that.The houses were dusty, dirty, dilapidated, and only two or three stories high.Tourists might prefer some if they weren't so cookie-cutter.But not even that.Everything is dull and monotonous.There are chipped walls, dusty window panes, open doors, and laundry drying on lines in the yard.A phrase emerges from the depths of my memory - framed reed board building.Although the phrase sounds archaic and official, it most accurately defines the type of house that was erected as a temporary structure but stood there for more than half a century.
The office of the night watchman inspection team is a large bungalow, also very dilapidated, surrounded by small flower beds.I think it would be a good idea for such a building to be used as a small kindergarten, where there should be some dark-skinned, black-haired children.
However, the children in this house have grown up long ago.I walked around a "Peugeot" parked by the fence, opened the gate, and walked through the flower beds - the flowers and plants inside looked dry and wilted, and they were all dying.I was a little horrified to see the bureaucratic Soviet-era sign on the door:
At first I thought I was delusional.Later, after looking through the twilight world, I found out that it was not. What was written on this sign was absolutely true, with a black background and yellow letters. The glass covering it was cracked and a corner fell off. "The words have been damaged and faded.
Next to it is the same text written in Uzbek, from which I learned how to pronounce "Patrol" in Uzbek.
I pushed the door open - it was unlocked of course - and went into the hall.Buildings in Eastern countries generally do not have halls.There is really no need to create such a place, there is no severe cold in Samarkand.
The furnishings of the hall are very simple, a bit like a small police station, and similar to offices in the Soviet era.There are coat racks and filing cabinets by the door.Three young Uzbek men and a fat older Russian woman are sitting at a desk drinking tea and chatting.On the table is a huge steaming electric samovar, painted with Khokhloma paintings.Of course, that's how it should be!In Russia, the last time I saw such decorative paintings was at the Ismailovo Art Decoration Market, where they were placed with matryoshka dolls, leather hats and other souvenirs sold to foreign tourists.The other desks were empty.On a table a little further away, an old computer was humming—the fan was overdue, and the monitor was too bulky.
"Hello," I said in Uzbek, feeling like a fool trying to be clever.Why didn't Gesar teach me Uzbek?
"Hi!" replied the fat woman.She was dark-skinned and black-haired—but clearly of Slavic descent.She had undergone some amazing changes in her appearance, which, like all Europeans who have been born in Eastern countries for a long time, occurred naturally and without magic.She was wearing a long, brightly colored dress and even dressed like Uzbek women.She eyed me curiously, and I felt the deft but weak detection spell touch my body.I did not add exclusion, so that it can obtain information.Immediately afterwards her facial expression changed, and she stood up from behind the table, and said in a low voice:
"Boys, here are the distinguished guests..."
"I'm not officially visiting at all." I waved my hand.
But they were still busy.Say hello to me and introduce yourself - Murat, grade 6; Timur, grade 5; Nogil, grade 4.I think they look about their real age, only in their twenties and thirties.Gesar said that there were five Others in the Samarkand night watch patrol team...According to Alisher, the staff of the Tashkent patrol team were younger.How young are you?Do you hire middle school students to work?
"Valentina Ilyinichna Firsenko, fourth-degree Other."
"Anton Gorodecki. The High Other." I repeated.
"I'm the head of the branch," she said, and was the last to shake my hand like the youngest member of the patrol.Still, I guess she's at least a hundred and fifty years old, no younger than that, and she has more energy than some of the other guys.
Is this also an oriental feature?
Soon, the doubts about "who is the boss here" disappeared.
"Guys, clear the table quickly," Valentina ordered. "Murat, you go out for a drive and go to the market by the way."
As she spoke she handed Murat a key to the safe.The young man took out a stack of banknotes from a large old chest of drawers, trying to be as subtle as possible.
"Don't do that!" I said earnestly. "I'm not at all an official visit, and it's only for a short time. I just want to ask a few questions . . . I have to go to the Sun Watch."
"Why?" asked Valentina with interest.
"There is no other place at the border inspection. There is a sign in the twilight world, which says that after entering the city, the light messenger needs to register with the day watchman patrol team, and the dark messenger needs to register with the night watchman patrol team."
I'd be interested to see how the head of the branch explained the apparent confusion.But Valentina Ilyinichna simply nodded:
"We have very few staff here, so we don't set up guards at the airport. Everything is in order in Tashkent...Nogier, go tell the vampires that Moscow's senior light magician Gorodetsky is coming to us Do some private business here."
"I'm not here officially, and it's not entirely private..." I wanted to explain.But no one listened to me.Nogil opened an imperceptible door in the wall and walked into a side room.I was surprised to find such a large and empty hall next door.
"Who is a vampire?" I was completely confused and couldn't figure out what it meant.
"Oh, that's the office of the Sun Watchers. They don't have vampires there. We just call them that... a joke among acquaintances." Valentina Ilyinichna laughed .
I didn't speak, and followed Nogil into the next room.The other of the two dark powers smiled kindly at me, one young and one middle-aged, the fourth level and the fifth level respectively.
"Hello..." I muttered in Uzbek, walked through the house (everything was the same as next door, even the samovar) and opened the door, which was next to the one I had just entered.
There is also a flower bed outside the door, and there is also a sign on the door:
I gently closed the door and went back into the house.Nogil probably sensed my reaction and slipped away.
A dark emissary said kindly:
"Dear Messenger of Light, you are welcome to sit with us after finishing your business. We rarely have guests from Moscow."
"Yeah, come and sit down!" The other one also echoed.
"Next time...thank you for the invitation," I replied vaguely, and then I went back to the office of the Night Watch patrol team and closed the door behind me.
There is no chain on the door.
The expressions of the Lightbringers looked a bit embarrassed.
"Night Watch Patrol," I said casually through my teeth. "The Light Force..."
"It's just to free up some space for them. The municipal fees are too expensive, and the rent..." Valentina Ilyinichna spread her hands. "Our two departments have been renting together in this way for more than ten years."
I gestured a little, and a blue halo appeared on the wall separating the offices of the Light Force and the Dark Force.In Samarkand, it is not possible to find someone else who can break the spell cast by a high-ranking magician.
"You don't have to do that, Anton," said Valentina Ilyinichna reproachfully. "They won't eavesdrop. It's not fashionable for us to do that here."
"But you should monitor the dark forces!" I raised my voice. "Supervise them!"
"We are monitoring them," Timur replied cautiously. "If they are nearby, it will be easier to supervise. If we want to run around the city, then our establishment should increase by four or five times!"
"Where's the sign? What's the matter with the sign? 'Night Watchman Patrol Team', 'Day Watchman Patrol Team', ordinary people can see it!"
"Let them see it," Nogier said. "Aren't there too many institutions in the city? If you hide in Tibet and don't even put up a sign, it's easier to attract suspicion. Either the police will come uninvited, or the kidnappers will come to blackmail. We do this and everyone I understand, it is nothing more than another state department, there is nothing to squeeze, so let’s not touch it..."
Only then did I come to my senses, this is not Russia after all.The Samarkand Patrol is not under our jurisdiction.If I were in Belgorod or Omsk, I would still have the right to make some comments.But for the patrol team in Samarkand, my order is invalid-even though I am a high-level lightbringer.
"I understand. However, it is impossible in Moscow to let the Dark Emissary just sit next door..."
"Just let them sit down, what's the point?" Valentina Ilyinichna was no longer angry. "They all sat quietly. Of course, the work was not easy. But if a situation arises, we will not lose our principles. Guys, do you remember that three years ago Aliya-Apa wanted old Nazgul Is it the matter of dying of evil spirits?"
Everyone nodded one after another, regained their energy all of a sudden, obviously they were all happy to mention that interesting incident.
"Bewitched by whom?" I couldn't help asking.
All the people present laughed.
"Nazgul is a personal name. Not those ghosts of the Lord of the Rings in American movies," Nogier said with a smile, showing his white teeth. "There was a man with that name. He died last year. The old man had been so dying for a long time, and his wife was young, and he had a witch come and cast a spell on him to kill him. We found out and arrested the witch, educated We did what we had to do. Valentina Ilyinichna got rid of the evil, and succeeded. Although the old man was a bad man, fierce and greedy, and despite his age, Greedy and lustful. Everyone was happy when he died. But we still disarmed the evil according to the rules!"
I thought for a moment, then sat down in the creaky easy chair.Indeed, even knowing Uzbek is of little use.The problem is not language, but national character.
Nogier's reasonable explanation put me at ease.But suddenly I caught a glimpse of Valentina Ilyinichna's eyes--kindness mixed with forgiveness and sympathy.
"Still shouldn't be like that," I said. "Please understand, I don't want to say anything, this is your city, and you are responsible for maintaining order...but it is really unreasonable."
"It's because you're closer to Europe," Nogier analyzed.Clearly, he does not see Uzbekistan as having nothing to do with Europe. "It doesn't matter to us here. In peacetime, everyone can sit under the same roof."
"Yeah." I paused, "Thank you for your explanation."
"Come and sit at the table," said Valentina Ilyinichna kindly. "What are you doing? Just sitting in the corner like an outsider."
I'm not actually sitting in the corner.Timur was setting the table there.The bright tablecloth instantly connects the two desks into a large dining table, on which there are plates of fruits: bright red and emerald green apples, black, green, yellow and red grapes, as tall as A pomegranate about the size of a small melon, homemade smoked sausage that looks delicious, sliced cooked meat, must be pancakes heated by magic.I remembered that Gesar always praised the flatbread in Samarkand when he occasionally recalled the past—it tasted good, and it would not harden after a week, and it only needed to be reheated when eating.Just eat hard, you can't stop talking... At the time, I thought these things he said were just sentimental memories of old people, like "when we were young..." something like that.Now that I am drooling, I suddenly realized that Gesar hadn't exaggerated much.
There are also two bottles of local brandy on the table, which really makes me a little scared.
"Don't mind it, it's a shame," said Nogil leisurely. "Our young colleagues will be back from the market soon, and we'll have a good meal later. Now let's fill our bellies."
I understand that at such a sumptuous banquet, I can't avoid drinking in any case.I suspect that Alisher's reluctance to come to the patrol right away was not simply because he wanted to know what was going on with his student girlfriend—a reason that was certainly plausible.Although Moscow's senior magicians have long stopped coming here as superiors, Moscow is still an extremely important center for the patrol team in Samarkand.
"Actually Gesar asked me to come..." I said.
It can be seen from their expressions that my status immediately changed from very high to unbelievably high, reaching the universe, and reaching a level that cannot be higher than others.
"Gesar asked me to look for one of his friends," I went on. "He lives in Uzbekistan..."
There was no movement in the room, and it seemed a little awkward.
"Anton, you mean Geonna?" asked Valentina Ilyinichna. "He went to Moscow...in 1998. He was killed there and died. We thought Gesar knew about it."
"No, no, I'm not talking about Jeonna!" I quickly stated. "Gesar asked me to find Rustam."
The young Uzbeks looked at each other, and Valentina Ilyinichna frowned:
"Rustum... I think I've heard..." she said hesitantly. "But... it's been a long time. Very long. Thousands of years, Anton."
"He doesn't work on the patrol," I said affirmatively. "Of course, he has other names. I think he has changed a lot of names. I only know him as a senior lightbringer."
Nogil touched his stiff black hair and said decisively:
"It's difficult, Anton. We have a high-level magician in Uzbekistan. He's in Tashkent. But he's younger. If an old magician with a lot of energy wants to hide, he can certainly hide himself well. To find him, not only need to be strong enough, but also smart enough. Gesar should find him by himself. Sorry, Anton, we can't help you."
"Ask Alfonchi," said Valentina Ilyinichna thoughtfully. "He's not very high-level, not very... not very clever. But he has a good memory and has lived for three hundred years..."
"Alfonky?" I was taken aback.
"The fifth member of our team." Valentina Ilyinichna was a little embarrassed. "You know it, his energy is level seven... mainly doing some housework. What if he can help?"
"I have almost no doubts about that." I nodded, remembering Najushka's words. "where is he?"
"Should come right away."
There is no other way.I nodded and walked towards the "shabby" table.
Murat returned half an hour later, carrying several overfilled bags.Some of these things were brought directly to the table.The rest were brought by Murat into the small kitchen next to the patrol office.My gourmet experience tells me that they want to make pilaf.
We ate fruit while we drank good brandy.Valentina Ilyinichna put Nogier in charge of wine.I politely listened to them talk about the history of the Uzbek patrol team—from the ancient mythology period to the Timur period to today.It turns out that the emissaries of light and darkness here have not always lived in peace, and many bloody and cruel incidents have occurred.I feel, however, that the motives for the intensification of the confrontation between the two Uzbek patrols are completely unknown to me.Patrols are also reasonably neutral when ordinary people kill each other.During Khrushchev's time and the early years of Brezhnev's administration, there was a fierce battle between the forces of light and the forces of darkness.It was during this period that three High Mages were sacrificed - two from the Watch of the Day and one of the Watch of the Night.Struggle also destroys a number of primary and secondary others.
Then everything stopped, and the "stagnation" of the 1980s seemed to involve others.Since then, the relationship between the dark forces and the light forces has been in a vague contradiction, but it is mainly provocation and ridicule, not real hostility.
"Alisher didn't like this," Timur emphasized. "Is he still in Moscow?"
I nodded, glad the conversation had taken a natural turn.
"Yes, he's on our patrol."
"Is he all right?" Nogier asked politely. "We heard that he is already a fourth-level magician?"
"It's basically level three," I said. "Let him talk about it himself. He came too, but he went to see acquaintances first."
Obviously, the news did not make them happy.The expressions of Timur and Nogil were not sad, but somewhat unnatural.Valentina Ilyinichna shook her head.
"It seems to disappoint you?" I asked curiously.After drinking the wine together, we should be able to treat each other frankly. "Tell me what's going on! Why do you treat Alisher like this? Because his father is Jeonna?"
Patrol team members, you look at me, and I look at you.
"The question is not his father," said Valentina Ilyinichna. "Alisher's a nice lad. But he's... aggressive."
"real?"
"Maybe he changed in Moscow," Timur went on. "But he always wanted to fight. It's a bit of a bad time."
I thought about it.Indeed, Alisher was always willing to do some field work on our team.Patrols, conflicts, arrests - he never falls...
"Well...it's natural in our place," I said. "Moscow is a big city, and the pace of life is more intense. But Alisher is very homesick."
"Of course, we are very happy to have him back!" Valentina Ilyinichna said immediately. "Long time no see Alisher, eh, lads?"
The boys agreed with feigned enthusiasm.Even Murat had a word from the kitchen that he missed Alisher.
"Is Alfonki coming soon?" I wanted to turn away from this embarrassing topic.
"It should be soon," said Valentina Ilyinichna with some concern. "It's past two o'clock."
"He's already here," Murat replied from the kitchen. "I'm sweeping the yard, I can see him through the window. He probably thinks he'll have to make pilaf for a while..."
Nogil immediately went to the door and called to him:
"Alfonky, what are you doing?"
"Sweeping the yard," answered the fifth member of the Samarkand inspection team confidently.Listening to the voice, you can not only feel that he was born three hundred years ago, but also feel that his physique is not very good.
Nogil turned around, spread his hands in apology, and shouted again:
"Alfonky, come in, we have guests!"
"I know there are guests, so I sweep the floor!"
"Alfonky, the guests are already in the house! What are you sweeping the yard for?"
"Hey, Nogier! I don't need you to teach me how to have guests! The house should be cleaned while the guests are in the yard. The yard should be cleaned when the guests are in the house!"
"Whatever you want, Alfonky!" Nogil said with a smile. "Of course you know better. Anyway, we'll go on with the grapes and the brandy."
"All right, Nogil!" Alfonchi replied impatiently. "It's disrespectful not to drink with the guest at the same table!"
Alfonky rushed to the door in one fell swoop.He looked very bad.The sneakers on his feet were unlaced, the blue jeans were tied with the kind of belt worn by Soviet soldiers, and the white nylon shirt was studded with buttons of different colors.Nylon is a very strong material.Probably his shirt is twenty or thirty years old.Affonkey was clean-shaven (he had done it with some difficulty, judging from the newspaper wound on his chin), and looked to be a bald man in his sixties.He glanced at the table with satisfaction, leaned his long broom against the door frame, and walked straight towards me.
"Hello, honored guest! May your energy grow as fast as a boy tearing off a girl's clothes! May you rise to the second level or even the first level soon!"
"Alfonchi, our guest is a high magician," Valentina Ilyinichna told him. "You still wish people to be promoted to the second level?"
"Women don't interrupt!" Afangji let go of my hand and sat down at the table. "Didn't you see that my blessing came true so quickly, and it exceeded my expectations?"
Everyone laughed and didn't feel embarrassed at all.I glanced at Alfonky's bioelectric field—the old man's energy was at its lowest level.He played a trick role in the Samarkand patrol team.Because of this, everyone will not care about his words and deeds, and he will not embarrass everyone.
"Thank you for your kind words, sir," I said. "Your wish came true very quickly."
The old man nodded, and stuffed half a peach into his mouth with satisfaction.His teeth are very good - he may not pay much attention to appearance, but he is very concerned about important parts such as teeth.
"These guys are still green," he muttered. "I bet they didn't treat you well. What's your name, kind friend?"
"Anton."
"My name is Afangji. It means wise man." The old man glanced at the inspectors with a stern look. "If it weren't for my wisdom, the dark forces would have drank their sweet brains and eaten up their sinewy hearts and livers! I really hope that the dark forces will die of convulsions and be scorched in hell .”
Nogil and Timur burst out laughing.
"I know why hearts and livers are stringy," Nogier said as he poured his drink. "But why is the brain sweet?"
"For wisdom is bitter, but stupidity and ignorance are sweet!" After eating the peaches, Alfonchi drank another glass of brandy. "Hey! Hey! Idiot, what are you doing?"
"What's the matter?" Timur was about to drink brandy with grapes, when he heard Afangji's words, he looked at him suspiciously.
"You can't drink brandy with grapes!"
"Why?"
"It's like boiling a lamb in the ewe's milk!"
"Alfonchi, the Jews don't boil lambs with milk!"
"how about you?"
"No," Timur panicked. "Why boil lamb in milk..."
"Then you don't use grapes but brandy."
“阿方基，我认识你才一会儿，就已经增长了不少智慧，我得花上一个月的时间好好消化消化。”我加入到他们的对话当中，想吸引老头的注意力。“睿智的格谢尔派我来找他的老朋友，此人有个名字叫鲁斯塔姆。你认识他吗？”
“我当然认识，”阿方基点点头。“格谢尔是谁啊？”
“阿方基！”瓦莲京娜·伊利尼奇娜诧异地两手一拍，“你怎么可能没听说过大魔法师格谢尔呢？”
“格谢尔……”老头子若有所思地念叨着。“格谢尔，格谢尔……是不是在宾肯特当过首饰匠的那个光明力量魔法师？”
“阿方基！你怎么可以把大魔法师格谢尔跟一个首饰匠混为一谈？”瓦莲京娜·伊利尼奇娜很是震惊。
“啊！格萨尔！”阿方基点点头。“对，对，对，天神之子，打败晁通、鲁赞和萨当的那个。谁不认识格萨尔啊？”
“那有谁认识鲁斯塔姆呢？”在阿方基开始历数格谢尔的光荣功绩之前我赶紧插了一句。
“我啊！”阿方基骄傲地说。
“别太得意忘形了，阿方基，”铁木尔提醒他。“我们的客人迫切需要见到鲁斯塔姆。”
“这很困难。”阿方基突然严肃起来。“鲁斯塔姆已经远离尘世。十年前有人在撒马尔罕见过他。从那以后再也没人跟他说过话，一个也没有……”
“您怎么认识他的呢，阿方基？”我忍不住地问。如果不是我女儿曾经提起过他，我肯定会认为这个爱吹牛的老头是在戏弄我。
“那是很久以前的事了。”阿方基叹了口气。“撒马尔罕曾经有个老头子，糊里糊涂的，就跟这帮乳臭未干的家伙一样。他在市里边逛边嚎，因为他什么吃的都没有。突然迎面走来一位威武的勇士，他目光炯炯，饱满的前额充满了智慧。勇士望了老头一眼，说：'老大爷，你干嘛愁容满面的啊？你没发现自己身怀能量？你可是个他者啊！'勇士用手摸了摸老头，他立刻获得了能量和智慧。勇士又说：'记住，大魔法师鲁斯塔姆就是你的师傅。'两百五十年以前在我的身上发生过这么一件事。”
看来这番话令巡查队员们吃惊的程度不亚于我。穆拉特呆若木鸡地站在厨房门口，铁木尔把本应倒进杯子里的酒洒了出来。
“阿方基，是鲁斯塔姆亲自激发你的？”瓦莲京娜·伊利尼奇娜问。
“我全说了，聪明人肯定都听明白了，”阿方基夺过铁木尔的酒杯，回答说。“即使对傻瓜重复一百遍，他也弄不懂的。”
“你以前怎么没讲过这件事？”铁木尔问。
“没有缘由啊。”
“阿方基，弟子总是可以召唤师傅的。”我说。
“这倒是。”阿方基得意地表示。
“我得跟鲁斯塔姆见一面。”
阿方基叹了口气，狡黠地看了我一眼。
“可鲁斯塔姆有必要跟你见面吗？”
我简直太讨厌东方的这套繁文缛节了！难道日常生活中他们自己人之间也这么说话吗？“老婆，你把大饼给我热好了吗？”“喔，老公，难道炽热的爱抚还代替不了一块大饼？”
我知道自己快要抑制不住情绪了，就要脱口而出的话是一个受到如此热情款待的客人不应该说出口的。幸好这个时候传来了一阵轻轻的敲门声。阿利舍尔走了进来。
他的表情我一点也不喜欢。如果他是一副愁眉苦脸的样子我倒不会觉得吃惊。有可能他终于发现自己学生时代迷恋的对象已经嫁了人，生了五个孩子并且变得肥胖不堪，还把他给彻底忘掉了——这可是绝对值得郁闷的理由。
可阿利舍尔显然是处于惊恐当中。
“你们好，”他跟以前的同事打了声招呼，就像昨天才分别似的。“我们有麻烦了。”
“哪里？”我问。
“就在围墙外面。”
Notes:
Notes: