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distant colour.
    Then the gates closed. The principals had gathered and were in their places; and the stage was set.

Three Sleeps
    It requires more courage and intelligence to be a devil than the folk who take experience at hearsay think. And none, save only he who has destroyed the devil in himself, and that by dint of hard work (for there is no other way) knows what a devil is, and what a devil he himself might be, as also what an army for the devils’ use are they who think the devils are delusion.
    The Book of the Sayings of Tsiang Samdup

Father Domenico’s interview with Theron Ware was brief, formal and edgy. The monk, despite his apprehensions, had been curious to see what the magician looked like, and had been irrationally disappointed to find him not much out of the ordinary run of intellectuals. Except for the tonsure, of course; like Baines, Father Domenico found that startling. Also, unlike Baines, he found it upsetting, because he knew the reason for it – not that Ware intended any mockery of his pious counterparts, but because demons, given a moment of inattention, were prone to seizing one by the hair.
    ‘Under the Covenant,’ Ware told him in excellent Latin, ‘I have no choice but to receive you, of course, Father. And under other circumstances I might even have enjoyed discussing the Art with you, even though we are of opposite schools. But this is an inconvenient time for me. I’ve got a very important client here, as you’ve seen, and I’ve already been notified that what he wants of me is likely to be extraordinarily ambitious.’
    ‘I shan’t interfere in any way,’ Father Domenico said. ‘Even should I wish to, which obviously I shall, I know very well that any such interference would cost me all my protections.’
    ‘I was sure you understood that, but nonetheless I’m glad to hear you say so,’ Ware said. ‘However, your very presence here is an embarrassment – not only because I’ll have to explain it to my client, but also because it changes the atmosphere unfavourably and will make my operations more difficult. I can only hope, in defiance of all hospitality, that your mission will be speedily satisfied.’
    ‘I can’t bring myself to regret the difficulty, since I only wish I could make your operations outright impossible. The best I can proffer you is strict adherence to the truce. As for the length of my stay, that depends wholly on what it is your client turns out to want, and how long
that
takes. I am charged with seeing it through to its conclusion.’
    ‘A prime nuïsance,’ Ware said. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that L haven’t been blessed with this kind of attention from Monte Albano before. Evidently what Mr Baines intends is even bigger than he thinks it is. I conclude without much cerebration that you know something about it I don’t know.’
    ‘It will be an immense disaster, I can tell you that.’
    ‘Hmm. From your point of view, but not necessarily from mine, possibly. I don’t suppose you’re prepared to offer any further information – on the chance, say, of dissuading me?’
    ‘Certainly not,’ Father Domenico said indignantly. ‘If eternal damnation hasn’t dissuaded you long before this, I’d be a fool to hope to.’
    ‘Well,’ Ware said, ‘but you are, after all, charged with the cure of souls, and unless the Church has done another flipflop since the last Congress, it is still also a mortal sin to assume that any man is certainly damned – even me.’
    That argument was potent, it had to be granted; but Father Domenico had not been trained in casuistry (and that by Jesuits) for nothing.
    ‘I’m a monk, not a priest,’ he said. ‘And any information I give you would, on the contrary, almost certainly be used to abet the evil, not turn it aside. I don’t find the choice a hard one under the circumstances.’
    ‘Then let me suggest a more practical consideration,’ Ware said. ‘I don’t know yet what Baines intends, but I