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other: ’Hu-Hu-Hu.’ The üfürük cülük – the blessing of the breath.
    ‘In Jabir’s day,’ said the Baba, ‘those who were engaged in alchemical research called themselves the Blowers and the Charcoal Burners, for these were secret parts of their sacred art. That is where many of our terms come from, in our sacred art today. We are sending you, by a secret route, to our friends in another land – they are also known as the Charcoal Burners. But now, time is of the essence, and we have something of value to send with you, which Ali Pasha has protected for thirty years—’
    He paused, for there were shouts from above, coming from the sealed upper rooms of the monastery. General Vaya and the soldiers raced toward the door to the steps.
    ‘But I see,’ said the Baba, ‘that we have no more time.’
    The pasha had reached within his robes in haste, and now he handed the Baba something that looked like a large, heavy black lump of coal. The Baba handed this to Haidée, but he addressed himself to Kauri, his young disciple.
    ‘There is an underground route out of this building, which will deliver you near to your skiff,’ the Baba told him. ‘You may be detected by others, but as children you will be unlikely to be apprehended. You are going to cross the mountains by a special route, to the coast, where a ship will be awaiting your arrival. You will travel north by directions I give you – you will seek a man who will lead you to those who will protect you. He knows the pasha well, from many years past,and he will trust you – that is, once you have given him the secret code that he alone will understand.’
    ‘And what is the code?’ asked Kauri, anxious to take off quickly, as the sounds of hammering and splintering wood proceeded from the floors above.
    But the pasha interrupted. He had pulled Vasiliki to his side, with one arm protectively around her shoulders. Vasiliki had tears in her eyes.
    ‘Haidée must reveal to this man who she really is,’ the pasha told them.
    ‘Who I am?’ said Haidée, glancing in confusion at her parents.
    Vasiliki spoke for the first time – she seemed in some sort of pain. She now took both of her daughter’s hands in her own, as they still held the large lump of coal.
    ‘My child,’ she addressed Haidée, ‘we have kept this secret for many years, but now, as the Baba has explained, it is our only hope, as well as yours.’ She paused, for her throat had choked on the final words. It seemed she could not go on, so the pasha intervened once more.
    ‘What Vasia means, my darling, is that I am not your true father.’ When he saw the look of horror on Haidée’s face, he added quickly, ‘I married your mother out of my great love for her, almost as a daughter, for I am greatly her senior in years. But when we married, Vasia was already expecting you – by another man. It was impossible for him to marry her, as it still remains. I know this man. I love him and trust him, and so does your mother, as well as the Baba. It has been a secret, kept in agreement by all of us – against this day when it might be necessary to reveal it at last.’
    Kauri had grasped Haidée’s arm with great strength, for it appeared that she might faint.
    ‘Your true father is a man who possesses both wealthand power,’ the pasha went on. ‘He will protect you – and will protect this as well, when you show him what you bring.’
    Haidée felt a dozen emotions warring within her. The pasha not her father? How could this be? She wanted to scream, tear her hair, cry – but her mother, weeping over her hands, was also shaking her head.
    ‘The pasha is right. You must go,’ Vasiliki told her daughter. ‘Your life is at risk if you remain longer – and it is too dangerous for any but the boy to go with you.’
    ‘But if the pasha is not – then who is my father? And where is he? And what is this object we are bringing to him?’ Sudden anger was helping her to recover a bit of her