whom it might have been. He reported the occurrence to Dame Clytie and I seem to recall that he used the name 'Spanchetta.' His mood was one of excitement, and Dame Clytie said: ‘I think you should investigate this matter it might prove of the greatest importance' or words to that effect. Then she noticed that I was within earshot and said no more.”
“Anything else?'
“Julian went off somewhere immediately afterward.'
'Thank you, Rufo.'
'Is that all you wish?'
“For now yes.'
Kathcar stalked from the room. Glawen told the others: 'Spanchetta showed Julian the letters Wayness wrote me. She did not refer to the Charter directly but she probably said enough to set Spanchetta thinking.”
Egon Tamm asked: “Why should Spanchetta show the letters to Julian? This is a puzzle.”
Scharde said: 'If Spanchetta had wanted to inform Smonny she would have notified Namour. She might well prefer Dame Clytie’s plans for the future to those of her sister.'
Glawen rose to his feet. He addressed Bodwyn Wook. 'Sir, I request a leave of absence starting now.'
“Hmf. Why this sudden whim?'
'It is not sudden, sir. The Shattorak operation has been successful and I am anxious to see to another matter.”
“Your request is denied,' said Bodwyn Wook. “I am assigning you to a special mission. You must proceed to Earth at best speed and there clarify this matter we have been discussing to the best of your ability.”
“Very good, sir.” said Glawen, “I withdraw my request.”
“Quite so,” said Bodwyn Wook.
Chapter III
Wayness arrived at the Grand Fiamurjes Spaceport Earth aboard the starship
Wayness approached the entrance to Fair Winds in a mood of uncertainty, not quite sure of what might be the current circumstances, nor even what kind of welcome she might expect. Her recollections, from a previous visit were vivid. Fair Winds was an ancient manor built of dark timbers, commodious, comfortably shabby, surrounded by a dozen massive deodars. Here lived Pirie Tamm, a widower with his daughters Challis and Moira: both older than Wayness and active in county society. Flair Winds had resounded with comings and goings, luncheons, garden fetes, dinner parties and an annual masquerade ball. Pirie Tamm at that time had been a large hearty man, erect and stalwart, brisk and positive, punctiliously correct in his manners. Milo and Wayness had found him a generous host, if somewhat formal.
Arriving this second time at Fair Winds, Wayness discovered many changes. Challis and Moira had married and moved away; Pirie Tamm now lived alone, save for a pair of servants, and the vast old house seemed unnaturally silent. Pirie Tamm, meanwhile, had become thin and white haired; his once ruddy cheeks were waxen and hollow; his bluff positive mannerisms were muted and he no longer walked with a brisk confident stride. He maintained a stiff reticence on the subject of his health, but Wayness eventually learned from the servants that Pirie Tamm had fallen from a ladder, broken his pelvis, and owing to complications had lost much of his strength and was incapable of prolonged exertion.
Pirie Tamm greeted Wayness with unexpected warmth. “What a pleasure to see you! And how long will you stay? You will be in no hurry to leave, or so I hope; Fair Winds is much too quiet nowadays!”
“I have no definite schedule,' said Wayness.
“Good, good! Agnes will show you to your room where you can freshen up before dinner.”
Wayness remembered from her last visit that dinner at Fair Winds was always a formal occasion. She dressed accordingly in a pale brown pleated skirt, a dark gray orange shirt and a square-shouldered black jacket; garments which admirably suited her dark hair and pale olive complexion.
When she appeared in the dining room, Pirie Tamm looked her up and down with grudging approval. “I remember you as a pretty young lass; you certainly have not altered for the worse — though I doubt if anyone would describe you as ‘buxom’.”
“I lack a bit here and there,“ said Wayness demurely. “But I make do with what I have.”
'It might well be enough,” said Pirie Tamm. He seated Wayness at one end of the long walnut table and took himself to the other.
Dinner was served in ritual fashion by one of the maids: a rich rosy pink lobster bisque, a salad of cress and sweet parsley dressed with cubes of chicken marinated in garlic oil, cutlets of wild boar from the Great Transylvanian Preserve. Pirie Tamm inquired after Milo and Wayness told of the terrible manner of Milo's death. Pirie Tamm was shocked. “It is particularly disturbing that such deeds should be done on Cadwal, a conservancy and, theoretically, a place of tranquility.”
Wayness laughed sadly. 'That does not sound like Cadwal.'
“Perhaps I am an impractical idealist; perhaps I expect too much of my fellow men. Still cannot avoid a profound disappointment whenever I look back across the years of my life. Nowhere do I discover the fresh, or the clean, or the innocent. Society is in a condition of rot. I cannot even trust the shopkeepers to give me my correct change.'
Wayness sipped wine from her goblet, not quite sure how to respond to Pirie Tamm's remarks. It seemed as if the years might have affected Pirie Tamm's mental processes as well as his physical condition.
Pirie Tamm, apparently expecting no comment, sat brooding off across the room. After a moment Wayness asked: “What of the Naturalist Society? Are you still Secretary?”
'I am indeed! It is a thankless task, in the most literal sense of the words, since no one either appreciates my efforts or tries to assist me.”
“I am sorry to hear that! What of Challis and Moira?'
Pirie Tamm made a curt gesture. “They are caught up in their own affairs, to the exclusion of all else. I suppose that it is the usual way of things — though I could wish for something different.”
Wayness asked cautiously: 'Did they marry well?'
“Well enough, I suppose, depending upon one's point of view. Moira picked herself a pedant, impractical as they come. He teaches some footling course at the university: 'The Psychology of the Uzbek Tree Flog,' or perhaps it’s 'Creation Myths of the Ancient Eskimos’. Challis did no better she married an insurance agent. None of them have set foot off the planet Earth, and none care a counterfeit coprolite for the Society. They flitter and change the subject when I mention the organization and its great work. Varbert, that's Moira's husband, calls it a 'geriatric mumble-club'. '
“That is not only unkind but foolish, as well!' declared Wayness indignantly.
Pirie Tamm hardly seemed to hear. 'I have discussed their parochialism at length, but they do not even trouble to disagree, which I find most exasperating. As a consequence I see little of them nowadays.”
“That is a pity,”' said Wayness. “Evidently none of their activities interest you.”
Pirie Tamm gave a grunt of disgust. “I have no taste for trivial banter nor excited discussion of some celebrity’s misconduct, nor would I wish to waste the time. I must research my monograph, which is a tedious business and I must also keep up with Society business.”
“Surely there are other members who might be willing to help you?'
Pirie Tamm laughed sourly. “There are barely half a dozen members left, and most are senile or bedridden.”
“No new members apply?”
