something new to tell me? If not, go away.”
Glawen spoke in a controlled voice. “I would like to ask your plans in regard to Shattorak.”
Bodwyn Wook said briskly. “The matter has been taken under advisement. As of this instant, no decisions have been made.”
Glawen raised-his eyebrows as if in surprise. “I should think haste would be a priority.”
“We have a dozen priorities. Among other incidentals, I would very much like to destroy Titus Pompo's space yacht — or, even better, capture it.''
“But you are planning no immediate action to rescue my father?”
Bodwyn Wook flung his lank arms into the air. “Do I plan a hell-roaring swoop upon Shattorak in full force? Not today and not tomorrow.”
''What is your thinking?”
“Have I not explained? We want to survey the ground with stealth and caution. That is how we do it at Bureau B, where intellect dominates hysteria! Some of the time, at least.'
“I have an idea which seems to accord with your plans.'
“Ha hah!” If it entails a private assault, replete with Clattuc flair and insolence, save your breath. We can spare no flyers for any such madcap excursion.''
“I intend nothing so rash, sir, and I would not use one of the Bureau flyers.”
“You plan to walk and swim?'
“No, sir. There is an old Skyrie utility flyer at the back of the airport. The superstructure is cut away; in fact it is no more than a flying platform. Chilke sometimes uses it to carry freight down to Cape Journal. It is suitable for what I have in mind.”
“Which is, specifically what?'
“I would approach Ecce at sea level, fly up the Vertes River to the foot of Shattorak, secure the Skyrie and proceed up the slope to the prison. There I would reconnoiter.'
“My dear Glawen, your proposal is as like to horrid suicide as two peas in a pod.”
Glawen smilingly shook his head, 'I hope not.'
“How can you avoid it? The beasts are savage.'
'Chilke will help me equip the Skyrie.'
“Aha! So you have taken Chilke into your confidence.'
“Necessarily. We will install floats and a canopy over the front section, also a pair of G-ZR guns, on swivels.”
“And after you set down the Skyrie, what then? Do you think you can simply saunter up the hill? The jungle is as evil as the swamp.”
“According to the references, the creatures become torpid during the afternoon.”
“Because of the heat. You will go torpid, as well.”
“I'll load the small swamp crawler on the afterdeck of the Skyrie. It might make the climb up Shattorak easier, perhaps safer.”
“Words like 'easy' and 'safe' don’t apply on Ecce.”
Glawen looked off out the window. “I hope to survive.”
“I hope so too,“ said Bodwyn Wook.
“Then you will approve the plan?”
“Not so fast. Assume you are able to climb Shattorak, what then?”
“I'll arrive at the prison strip outside the stockade. With luck, I'll find my father at once, and we will return down the hill with as little commotion as possible. If his absence is noticed, it will be assumed that he tried to escape across the jungle.'
Bodwyn Wook gave a disparaging grunt. “That is the optimum case. You might be detected, or trip some kind of alarm.'
“The same would be true of any attempt at reconnaissance.'
Bodwyn Wook shook his head. “Scharde is a lucky man. If I were captured, I wonder who would come for me.”
'I would, sir.”
“Very well, Glawen. I see that you are determined to have your way. Use prudence. Do not challenge unfavorable odds. Clattuc elan is useless on Mount Shattorak. Secondly, if you cannot rescue your father, bring away another person who can supply us with information.”
“Very well, sir. What of radio communication?”
“We don’t have peepers[5].There has never before been any need for such things. You must do without. Now then, what else?'
“You might call Chilke and mention that he is to proceed on the Skyrie.”
“Very well. Anything more?”
“You should know that Egon Tamm has invited me to Riverview House. He wants me to read Floreste's letter to Dame Clytie Vergence and some of the other LPFers.”
“Hmf. You have become quite the society man. I suppose you want a copy of the letter.'
“I already have one, sir.”
“That is all, Glawen! Be off with you!”
Shortly before noon Glawen arrived at Riverview House, where he was admitted into the shadowy front hall by Egon Tamm himself. In the last few months, so it seemed to Glawen, Egon had aged perceptibly. Gray dusted the dark hair at his temples; his clear olive complexion had taken on an ivory pallor. He greeted Glawen in more than ordinary cordiality. “In all candor, Glawen, I am not enjoying my present company. I find it difficult to maintain my official detachment.”
“Dame Clytie is evidently in good form.”
“The best! She is at it now, pacing up and down the parlor, exposing criminals, issuing manifestoes, and generally expounding her new pantology. Julian calls out, ‘Hear, hear!’, from time to time and tries one debonair attitude after another, so that Flitz will notice him. Lewyn Barduys listens with half an ear. I cannot guess what he is thinking; his mind is opaque. Warden Fergus and Dame Larica are both staid and proper, and sit in dignified silence. I am not anxious to draw Dame Clytie’s fire, so I too am discreet.”
'Warden Ballinder is not on hand, then?”
“Unfortunately not. Dame Clytie ranges the field unchallenged.'
“Hmf,” said Glawen. “Maybe my appearance will distract her.'
Egon Tamm smiled. “Floreste’s letter will distract her. You brought the letter, I hope?”
“It is in my pocket.”
'Come along then. It is almost time for lunch.”
The two passed through an arched passage into a large airy parlor with tall windows to south and west overlooking a wide expanse of lagoon. The walls were enameled white, as was the celling save for the ceiling beams which retained their natural age-darkened color. Three rugs patterned in green, black, white and russet lay on the floor; couches and chairs were upholstered in dull green twill. On the back wall shelves and cabinets displayed a marvelous variety of curios, oddments and artifacts representing the collections of a hundred previous Conservators. At the western end of the room a table — against which Julian Bohost leaned in a carefully debonair posture — supported books, periodicals and a bouquet of pink flowers in a bowl glazed pale blue-green celadon.
Six persons occupied the room. Dame Clytie paced the floor, hands clasped behind her back, and Julian leaned against the table. By the window sat a young woman with smooth silver hair and flawless features, absorbed in her own thoughts and paying Julian not the slightest attention. She wore skintight silver trousers, a short loose black shirt and black sandals on bare feet. Beside her stood a man of middle stature or a trifle less, short-necked and compact of physique, with narrow pale gray eyes and a short blunt nose on a small bald bony head. Warden Furgus and Dame Larica Fergus sat stiffly on a couch, watching Dame Clytie with the expressions of birds watching a snake. Both were middle-aged, and wore the somber garments of Stroma.
Dame Clytie marched back and forth, head lowered. “ — inevitable and necessary! Not everyone will be
