"What truths? Words that we don't understand?" hollered one, in anger, back at him. "Blasphemies and heresies to destroy our faith in The Almighty!" shouted another. "We don't listen to lies! -- Remove him!" "These are not lies. These are truths, of the great things that had once been and can be, again!" pleaded the man from the stage. The murmur of the riotous mob grew; people yelled to others to take him away and kill him, and to close their eyes to his devilish words. "Hear me, friends! Hear the words of the "old ones" from that age that had vanished! -- Hear of those who have been in shelter, and who waited to be born again. All of you are the witnesses to them, to reason and to understand them, again!" said the man on the stage as he waved his book in the air, over his head. Dearborne and Boy moved into the shadows of the adjacent street. She was curious to hear what the man had to say. Cardinal Allen still stood by the café table and watched some woman grab at the leg-bindings of the man's sandal. Allen waited. The woman screamed. "This demon tempts us! Call the Almighty's Angels to destroy him!" and Allen pulled from his habit a small flat, triangular device and passed his forefinger over its surface. Instantly, bells echoed throughout the street and the roar of the mob died down as they moved back, away from the stage. Two tall male figures, dressed totally in black, with dark helmets and shiny metals adorning them, entered the square in haste, beside the café. Cardinal Allen pointed a bony finger at the man on stage and the two monastic guards stepped up to the stage and drew their weapons on him. The man on stage was certain that they would fire upon him. He knew that he couldn't allow his book to be taken from him, for then no one would ever see it. He quickly took a glass ball from his hip sack and threw it down at the guards. A twangy sound echoed though the air and the man fell from the stage, to the ground. The glass ball that he had thrown down poured-out a grey green smoke, giving him the chance to drag himself into one of the nearby alleys. The monastic guards stopped in their tracks. Their guns were still pointed up towards the stage but they did not fire any more. The mob, aimless and panicked, ran into one another and screamed in horror that they were blind. Others fell to the ground and crawled off, crying and praying to the Almighty to deliver them from the evil that had befallen them. Cardinal Allen ran off in the direction of Halls, still rubbing his forefinger over the surface of the device. The roar of the mob subsided, giving way to the eerie sounds of the bells that echoed through every part of Pomperaque. As Allen approached Halls, he fell over his habit, dragging behind him, and in final desperation, made it through the gateway and collapsed by the fountain in the courtyard.