“Be off!” I howled. “Be off with you!” But he was strong, Groth, even for our kind. He
pinned me and he searched me, and he found the Khazil-Key.
“Dill,” he panted. “Can you drop the wards upon your door for the nonce?”
“Of course,” said Dill, and made a gesture.
Groth slammed the door, plunged the Key into the lock, and opened it again.
And out stepped Santa Claus.
*
Hello , child. Do you remember me? It’ s years now since you last hung a stocking, but I
haven’ t forgotten. Nor failed to keep you in my heart.
As you’ ve heard, I am the ancient son of Angel and Dwarf — the only one of my kind, the
Khazilim. Long and st range was my quest to find life’ s purpose; long and strange, the days since
I found it and was charged with the keeping of Christmas. I have forged many items of power in
furtherance of that charge, the Key by no means least among them.
When I passed through the door of Dill (good fellow), I saw fear and sorrow in the streets.
It was not well. Ere aught else, I drew forth a Snow Sphere and flung it into the blazing diner.
An argent detonation, and the flames were quelled.
“Chief Braddock,” I called.
The firefighters’ leader, a kindly woman, stepped forward and removed he r hat. “It’s
you!”
“ It is. I commend you for your duties, and I think your boy will soon recover from his
flu.”
74
Made with FlippingBook Digital Publishing Software