Azzie and Sir Oliver walked to the edge of the woods, where a fallen oak made a natural firebreak. They gathered twigs and branches, and then Oliver bent down and applied flint and tinder. He had never been particularly good at the job of fire making, but no one else seemed to be doing it and he didn't want to ask Sir Antonio.

The sparks flew into the dry tinder, but they snuffed out almost immediately. The Devil's own breeze ran along the forest floor, contrary to the usual way of things. Oliver tried again and again, but the malicious little wind blew out his efforts. He was having difficulty even getting the stone to strike. The harder he tried, the less effective he was. The breeze on the forest floor was acting almost as if it had a mind of its own: when Oliver finally got a little fire going, a sudden puff of wind from a different direction extinguished it.

He stood up swearing, trying to ease his aching knees. Azzie said, "Perhaps you will permit me to do that for

O".

you!

"By all means," Oliver said, extending the flint.

Azzie waved it aside, rubbed the forefinger of his right hand with the palm of his left, then pointed his forefinger at the tinder. A small bolt of blue lightning flew from his finger to the tinder, remained there a moment, then went out. When it disappeared, a merry little flame was burning before them. No breeze blew it out. It was as if the wind knew its master.

Sir Oliver tried to speak, but no words came.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Azzie said. "Just a little trick I learned in the Orient."

He looked at Sir Oliver, and Oliver noticed tiny red flames dancing in his pupils.

Azzie turned and strolled back to the coaches.

Chapter 3.

Azzie found Mother Joanna setting up the little tent she carried with her on pilgrimages. It was of bleached cotton dyed green, so it blended in nicely with the forest. It had bamboo staves to give it shape, and a variety of ropes with which to tie it down. Joanna was wrestling with the ropes now. During the trip they had gotten themselves into a tangle, and now they formed a ma.s.s the size of a goat's head - and just as obstinate.

"It's the Devil's own job, untangling this knot," she declared.

"Why, then, better let me have a go at it," Azzie said cheerfully.

She handed him the tangle of ropes. Azzie held up his left forefinger and blew on it; his forefinger turned a bright canary yellow, all except the fingernail, which extended itself into a steel-colored talon. Azzie tapped the knot with his talon, and a green nimbus of fire danced around it for a moment. When it died away, he tossed the bundle of ropes back to Mother Joanna. She tried to catch it, but the ropes flew apart before they reached her. She bent down and picked up the ropes that had just a moment ago been irrevocably tied into a knot to rival the Gordian.

"How on Earth..." she began.

"A fakir's trick, learned in an Oriental bazaar," Azzie said, grinning at her. She stared at him, and saw the tiny red flames dancing in his eyes. She was relieved when Azzie walked off, whistling.

Later that evening, the pilgrims were gathered around the fire; all were there except Azzie, who had declared his intention of taking a stroll in the woods to relax before bedtime. Oliver and Mother Joanna sat a little apart from the others; there was no doubt at all what they were going to talk about.

"The new fellow," Oliver said. "What do you think of him?"

"He fair puts the wind up me," the abbess said, reverting to an expression of her childhood nanny.

"Yes," Oliver agreed. "There's something uncanny about him, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed I would. In fact, just an hour ago, I had a little encounter with him that has left me thinking."

"So did I!" said Sir Oliver. "When I had trouble starting the fire, Sir Antonio did it himself-with his forefinger."

"His forefinger and what else?" asked Joanna.

"Nothing else. He pointed it, and flames sprang up. He said it was an old fakir trick he learned in the Orient. But I say it looked like witchcraft."

Mother Joanna stared at him for a moment, then told of her experience with Azzie and the knot.

"It's not normal," Oliver said.

"No. It most certainly is not."

"And it's not some Oriental fakir's trick, either."

"That it is not," Mother Joanna said. "Furthermore, he has little red lights in his eyes. Did you notice that?"

"How could I overlook it?" Oliver said. "It is a devil mark, is it not?"

"That it is," Mother Joanna said. "I've read it in the Handbook for Exorcising Demons."

Just then Azzie reappeared from the forest, whistling merrily. Over his shoulder he carried a young deer.

"I would be pleased if you'd let me provide tonight's dinner," Azzie said. "Perhaps one of your varlets could cut up this n.o.ble beast and roast him for us? I am going to take a bath in yonder brook. Running down a deer is sweaty work." And he took himself off, whistling as he went.

Chapter 4.

The pilgrims were awake before first light. As the morning sun came filtering through the leaves, they packed, made a hasty breakfast, and were under way. All day they journeyed through the forest, keeping close watch for signs of trouble, but not encountering anything fiercer than mosquitoes.

By early evening Sir Oliver and Mother Joanna were peering anxiously ahead through the trees, searching for the first sign of the inn that Azzie had promised.

They were afraid he had deceived them. But he was as good as his word, and suddenly the inn lay dead ahead, a good-sized two-story building built of stone, with a supply of firewood stacked to one side and a yard for the animals and a shed for the retainers.

They were greeted at the door by Brother Francois, a large, burly, bearded man. He shook their hands as they trooped in one by one.

Azzie was the last to enter, and he gave Brother Francois a bag of silver coins, "To pay for our stay." He laughed and gave Francois a peculiar look; Francois staggered back as though struck by some unpleasant thought.

"Sir," the Dominican asked, "have I not made your acquaintance before?"

"You might have seen me in Venice," Azzie said.

"No, it was not Venice. It was in France, and it had something to do with bringing a man back to life."

Azzie remembered the incident, but he saw no reason to enlighten the monk about it. He shook his head politely.

After that, Brother Francois seemed upset and absent- minded. He explained about rooms and victuals to the pilgrims, but seemed scarcely able to keep his attention on his own words. He kept glancing at Azzie, muttering to himself, and when he thought no one was looking, making the sign of the cross.

When Azzie asked for the use of the little bedroom upstairs, Brother Francois was quick to agree, but seemed more thunderstruck than ever. He kept looking at the coins in his hand and shaking his head. At last he approached Oliver and Mother Joanna. "That fellow with you, that Antonio, have you known him long?"

"Not long at all," Oliver said. "Has he shortchanged you?"

"No, no. To the contrary."