It was cool underground. The lack of light did not prevent Azzie from seeing around him very nicely, in a dim infrared sort of way. And it is rather pleasant underground. There are moles and shrews near the surface, and other creatures glide along the differing densities of the soil.

At last Azzie came out in a large underground cavern. Phosphorescent rocks gave off a dim glow, and he could see, at the far end of the cavern, a solitary dwarf of the north European variety, dressed in a well-made green and red mole­skin suit, with tiny jackboots of gecko hide and a little mouse-skin cap on his head.

"Greetings, dwarf," Azzie said, adjusting his height up­ward as far as the rocky ceiling allowed so that he could loom over the dwarf impressively.

"Hail, demon," the dwarf said, sounding not too pleased at stumbling over one. "Out for a stroll, are you?"

"You could say so," Azzie said. "And what about you?"

"Just passing through these parts," the dwarf said. "On my way to a reunion in Antibes."

"Is that a fact?" Azzie asked.

"Yes, it is."

"Then why were you standing here digging?"

"Me? Digging? Not really."

"Then what were you doing with that pick in your hand? "

The dwarf looked down and seemed surprised to find the pick there. "I was just tidying up." He tried to rake a few rocks together with the pick, but of course, since it was never intended for that purpose, it didn't do a good job.

"Tidying up the earth?" Azzie said. "What'dye take me for, a moron? Who are you, anyhow?"

"I am Rognir, a member of the Rolfing Dwarveria from Uppsala. Tidying up the earth may seem absurd to you, but it comes naturally to dwarves, who like everything to remain the same."

"Frankly," Azzie said, "what you are saying makes no sense to me at all."