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doubted he needed to remember it.
    "Oh, yeah. His name's Malachi. Weird name, huh? It's from the Bible."
    "Last book of the Old Testament," said Ariel. "It means 'my messenger.'"
    "She reads a lot," I explained to his blank look. "It's a pain in the ass—I have to turn the pages for her."
    "I'll take your word for it. But he's a strange guy. Lives like he's Japanese, like one of those samurai." He mispronounced it. "Swords and all. Sometimes even one of those dress things, a kimono. He lives alone in a pretty nice house not too far from here." He frowned. "Well, not quite alone—he has a buddy, sort of. A big black Chow. That's a dog."
    "I know."
    "Oh. It's a mean bastard. Damn near chewed my leg off once when I got too close to Malachi. That dog goes wherever he does. Malachi's real private—he leaves everybody alone, they leave him alone, mostly. You'd like him; like I said, he's really weird. You could talk to him about the Change. I know he'd want to see Ariel. He's interested in magic."
    "Is he a sorcerer?" Ariel asked.
    Chaffney shrugged. "He messes around. Tell you what—I'll take you to meet him tomorrow, if you want. I really think he'd be interested in both of you." He looked hopeful.
    Ariel and I exchanged glances. "Why not?" she said.
    I looked back to Chaffney. "Sure. I'd be interested in seeing how he defends a house by himself, anyway. That's hard enough for a group of people."
    "You'll understand when you meet him."
    "Oh. All right."
    "Well," he said suddenly, getting up, "it's getting late. I ought to be getting back."
    I stood also. "What time should we expect you tomorrow?"
    "Around noon, I guess. It's about two, two and a half hours' walk from here."
    "We'll be here."
    He nodded. "I'll find my own way out. It was definitely a pleasure meeting you two, to say the least." He grinned at Ariel. "Good night."
    "Good night."
    Halfway down the stairs he paused. "Hey," he called up. "Remember the guy on the overpass with me? The one with all the knives?"
    "The jerk who talked about grinding up my horn?" Ariel asked.
    "He may be a jerk, but he's got friends. I'd watch out for him. I think he was serious about your horn. He'd try to take anything he thought he could get a good price for."
    "I thought he was a friend of yours," I said.
    He shook his head, looking up at me. "No friend of mine. I just stood a border watch with him. His name's Emilio."
    "We'll keep an eye out for him. Thanks."
    "Sure." He turned and walked the rest of the way down the stairs. His shoes scuffed the carpet until he reached the front door and the sound changed to the crunch of glass underfoot, then silence.
    "Well," said Ariel when he was gone, "he seems nice enough."
    "Yeah. I don't think he's about to go out and reinvent calculus, though." I looked away from the staircase. "So it seems there's a man after your own horn."
    "It wouldn't be the first time."
    I grunted. "Do you think we should block off the entranceway you so delicately smashed in, so no one cuts my throat tonight?"
    She snorted. "If I hadn't done it you'd have used a brick and done the same thing."
    "Irrelevant and immaterial, but never mind. I'll slide a card catalog in front of it so I can hear if somebody comes in. They'll have to slide it out of the way."
    "So I can hear, you mean. You sleep like a dragon."
    "Whatever."
    Four
     
    That night somebody stole my radio and I had to do my own singing.
    —Duane Locke, Man's Relationship to his Self: "SELF RELIANCE," BASED ON AN ESSAY BY EMERSON
     
    Next day I read A Book of Five Rings , a book on Japanese swordplay by Miyamoto Musashi. It wasn't easy. The thing was kind of vague, and Ariel's complaining didn't help any.
    "Will you hurry up and finish that thing?" she whined. I sat on the front steps of the library while she paced restlessly. The day was bright and clear; nobody on the streets, no sound save the occasional echo of a bird cry.
    "Be quiet. Besides, when I finish this I'll just start