"You know Japanese writing?" "No, but I heard it somewhere." He laughed. Then he mopped his brow again. "Hot, isn't it?" "We must have a breeze," she said. A breeze sprang up. "Well! You certainly ordered that one!" "Naito-san said to make you comfortable." She said this quite seriously. They walked some more, and he forgot the coincidence. He watched the girl, admiring her effortless walk. Presently he said, "Well, I'm going to enjoy this visit, anyway." "Enjoy?" "I didn't think I would at first. I thought it was all just another crazy idea of Murdock's. He's the managing editor. I told him he was crazy to send me out here to the mountains and waste three days getting a brightener for page two." "I do not understand all of what you say." "These magic tricks the monks do. What I mean is, they're interesting, but not big, important news. We call a story like this a feature. We don't usually take a lot of time or trouble with it." "But they are not magic tricks. They are more." "Well--all right. I understand how you feel." He wondered what her place in the Hataka Shrine might be. Priestess perhaps. Except that you couldn't use western words for these things. The ideas were different. But she was beautiful--that was the same in any language! They reached the shrine in some twenty minutes of climbing, and because of the breeze, and because his feet had suddenly become light, he was not exhausted. The shrine was in a flat place near the top of the mountain. It was not imposing: it had no huge tori, or entranceway, like a Shinto shrine, and there was little elaborate gilding or carving. Inside there was a kind of chancel with flowers, incense holders and hanging prayers and mottoes. There were low buildings off to one side, and the land about them was a carefully made garden, cool and withdrawn, and both men and women in robes of gray or saffron or blue walked about this garden quietly. Then an old man, bald and with skin like saddle leather came forward. He was old, but his eyes were more; they were ageless, like black sky on a cloudless night. He wore silk. He smiled, but with restraint, then offered his hand, western style. "Welcome, Mr. Blair. I am Naito. We are glad to have you here." "Thank you. How do you do." "You'll want a hot bath, I think ... and then a little rest. After that we can eat together, and talk." "Well--thanks--but actually I'd like to get the story, then go on back to the village again. The last train leaves about six." "But you must stay longer. Surely." "No, I really ought to get back to the office. Took me a day and a half to get here, after all." Naito smiled and shook his head. "You are still in the grip of time, Mr. Blair. Spend some with us and you will slip a little from its tyranny." "You're very kind, Mr. Naito. But--well, you have your world and I have mine. Time's important in mine. If you could just show me some of these tricks you do--"