A jumble of trees and clouds passed before his eyes. As they mounted higher and higher, Trinket's fear increased. This crazy monk doesn't give up easily,' he thought. 'He couldn't kill me with his sword, so now he's decided to drop me off a mountain.' He shut his eyes tight when the monk at last stopped and let go of him, then gave a great cry as he landed on his back with a thump. It took him some moments to realize that he had fallen to the ground from a height of approximately three feet. When he opened his eyes he saw that the eyes of the White Monk were studying him coldly. 'I have heard it said that some Shaolin monks can make themselves impermeable to weapons,' the monk was saying, 'but I wouldn't have expected so young a monk as you to be able to.' Trinket listened in amazement. It was a woman's voice. This wasn't a monk, it was a woman in her thirties, a distinguished-looking woman with a pale, refined face and a pair of very beautiful but very sad-looking eyes. From her shaved head and the two rows of Little scars where the incense had burned into her scalp at the time of her initiation it was evident that she was in holy orders. The White Monk was in fact a White Nun. He felt relieved. A nun, he thought, should be much easier to deal with than a monk. But just at that moment he became once more conscious of the searing pain in his chest. 'Aiyo!'

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