scalpels and lancets. There was even a poker, from the furnace room. "Why don't you see how he's doing, Mister Vandemar?" asked Mr. Croup. Mr. Vandemar reached out his hammer, and prodded the marquis experimentally with it. The marquis de Carabas was not a good man, and he knew himself well enough to be perfectly certain that he was not a brave man. He had long since decided that the world, Above or Below, was a place that wished to be deceived, and, to this end, he had named himself from a lie in a fairy tale, and created himself--his clothes, his manner,light pink toms, his carriage--as a grand joke. There was a dull pain at his wrists and his feet, and he was finding it harder and harder to breathe. There was nothing more to be gained by feigning unconsciousness, and he raised his head, as best he could, and spat a gob of scarlet blood into Mr. Valdemar's face. It was a brave thing to do, he thought. And a stupid one. Perhaps they would have let him die quietly, if he had not done that. Now, he had no doubt, they would hurt him more,toms discount. And perhaps his death would come the quicker for it. The open kettle was boiling fiercely. Richard watched the bubbling water, and the thick steam, and wondered what they were going to do with it. His imagination was able to provide any number of answers, most of which would have been unimaginably painful, none of which turned out to be correct. The boiling water was poured into a pot, to which Brother Fuliginous added three spoons of dried, shredded leaves. The resultant liquid was poured from the pot through a tea strainer, into three china cups. The abbot raised his blind head, sniffed the air, and smiled. "The first part of the Ordeal of the Key," he said, "is the nice cup of tea. Do you take sugar?" "No, thank you," said Richard, warily. Brother Fuliginous added a little milk to the tea, and passed a cup and saucer to Richard. "Is it poisoned,toms canvas shoes?" he asked. The abbot looked almost offended: "Good gracious, no." Richard sipped the tea, which tasted more or less exactly like tea always tasted. "But this _is_ part of the ordeal?" Brother Fuliginous took the abbot's hands and placed a cup of tea in them. "In a manner of speaking," said the abbot. "We always like to give the seekers a cup of tea before they start. Part of the ordeal for us. Not for you." He sipped his own tea, and a beatific smile spread across his ancient face. "Rather nice tea, all things considered." Richard put down his teacup, almost untouched. "Would you mind," he asked, "if we just began the ordeal?" "Not at all," said the abbot. "Not at all." He stood up, and the three of them walked toward a door, at the far end of the room. "Is there . . . " Richard paused, trying to decide what he was trying to ask. Then he said, "Is there anything you can tell me about the ordeal?" The abbot shook his head. There really was nothing to say: he led the seekers to the door. And then he would wait, for-an hour, or two, in the corridor outside. Then he would go back in, and remove the remains of the seeker from the shrine, and inter it in the vaRelated articles:

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