"OK, now we really are talking at cross-purposes." I stopped, not willing to get myself any more lost than I had been. "My name is Pia Thomason, and I really am just an ordinary tourist."

"Pia? Heh-heh. You are very good," he said admiringly, taking my arm again and gently pushing me forward. "I am Mattias. I am the sacristan."

"Sorry?" I said, unfamiliar with the word. Would it make me a Bad American if I tore my arm from his grip and turned around to run back to the holiday crowds? With everyone down at the waterfront park enjoying the celebrations, the town was all but deserted.

"It means—let me see if I can translate it for you—keeper of the doors, yes? You understand?"

"A doorkeeper? Is that some sort of a doorman?" I asked, puffing a little since Mattias was hauling me gently but persistently up one of the steep stone roads. "Like at a hotel, you mean?"

"Doorman… that may not be the right word. Doorkeeper sounds better. I am doorkeeper of the Brotherhood of the Blessed Light."

I tried to remember what was the predominant religion of the area, but drew a blank. "Ah. I assume that's a religion?"

He chuckled again. "You wish to play? I will play. Yes, it is a religion, a very old one. Its origins are in the Basque region. We were once known as Ilargi, but now we are called by the name of the Brotherhood. We have been around since the beginning of the darkness."

"Ilargi?" I asked, startled at the familiar word. I peered up into the face of the man who continued to urge me up the street. "Isn't that the name of the woods outside of the town? The place with the ruins?"

"Woods?" His blond brows pulled together. "I do not understand. Are you testing me?"

I dug my heels in and stopped him a second time. He faced me with a puzzled expression, but I could see no signs of hostility or, worse, madness. He had to have me confused with someone else. "I'm sorry, Mattias, but I really do think you have the wrong person. I do not understand half of what you are saying."