everything, he was amusing company.
Wayness finished her lunch and sauntered back along the prospect to the old Prlnce Kolsky Square and the Mazeppa Hotel. She made inquiries at the travel desk and learned that there would be no good connections for Croy until morning. “In that case,' thought Wayness, “I will dine at Lena's Bistro after all, if only to embarrass Lefaun Zadoury.”
Wayness went up to her room with the intention of telephoning her uncle Pirie Tamm, but she hesitated. There were arguments which could be made in both directions. Pirie Tamm was a great one for issuing warnings and citing dangers.
Wayness caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and decided that her hair had become over-long. She thought of Giljin Leepe and her eccentric thatch, but no, in fact, definitely not; a style so extreme would only make her feel self-conscious.
Wayness went down to the hair-dresser's shop on the ground floor, where her dark curling locks were trimmed so to hang just to the turn of her jaw.
Wayness returned to her room full of decision and immediately put through a call to Fair Winds.”
Pirie Tamm's first questions were indeed somewhat plaintive, and Wayness assured him as best she could. 'I in a nice respectable hotel; the weather is fine and I am in good health.”
'You look somehow drawn and peaked.”
“That is because I have just had a haircut.'
“Ah! That explains it I thought that you might have eaten something which upset your stomach.'
“Not yet! But tonight I am having cabbage rolls at Lena's Bistro. It is said to be picturesque.'
'Often that is merely a synonym for ‘dirty’.”
“You must not worry so! Everything’s going well. I have not been seduced or robbed or murdered or dragged screaming down into a cellar.'
'So far so good, as you say, but any of these outrages might happen at a moment’s notice!'
“Somehow I suspect that seduction might take a bit longer. I am quite shy and I need a few minutes or even an hour before I warm up to people.''
“You must not joke about such things. They need only happen once, and then it is too late to take care.'
“You are right, Uncle Pirie, of course. I should not be so flippant. Let me tell you know what I have learned. It is really quite important. Part of the Society Collection at Funusti Museum came by way of Gohoon Galleries.But another portion was donated fifteen years ago: by Aeolus Benefices, of Croy.”
“Aha, ahem. That is interesting indeed.“ Pirie Tamm's tone of voice had changed in a subtle manner. “Incidentally, one of your friends from Cadwal arrived yesterday, and is staying with me.”
Wayness' heart bounded. 'Who? Glawen?'
“No,” said another voice and a second face moved into the screen. ‘It’s Julian.'
'Oh my,” said Wayness in a husky half-whisper and then aloud: 'What are you doing here?'
“Just what you are doing-looking for the Charter and the Grant. Pirie and I think that it would be prudent if we joined forces.”
Pirie Tamm said in a brassy voice: “Julian is quite right; we are all in this together the job is too big to be handled by a slip of a girl, which I have been saying since you began.”
“I have done quite well so far. Uncle Pirie, send Julian out of the room; I want to talk with you privately.'
“My word!” drawled Julian. “Tact is not one of your strong points, is it?”
“I don’t know what else to say, in order to get you out of earshot.”
“Very well. If that is your wish, I will go.”
Pirie Tamm presently spoke. “Well then, Wayness, I certainly am surprised by your attitude!”
“I'm not only surprised at you, Uncle Pirie; I am horrified that you let me pour confidential information into Julian’s ear. He is a vehement LPFer; he intends to destroy the Conservancy and let the Yips run loose over all Cadwal! If Julian gets to the Charter and the Grant before I do, you can kiss the Conservancy goodbye!”
Pirie Tamm's voice was subdued. “He indicated you and he had a, well, romantic attachment, and that he had come to help you.'
“He was lying.”
“What will you do now?'
“Tomorrow I will leave here for Croy. I can't make any other plans until I see how the land lays.”
“Wayness, I am sorry.'
“No matter now. Just don’t tell anyone else anything, except Glawen Clattuc, in case he should arrive.”
“So it shall be.” Pirie Tamm hesitated, then said: “Call me again, as soon as you can. I will be more careful; I assure you of this.'
“Don’t fret, Uncle Pirie. Perhaps it is not so bad, after all.”
“That would be my dearest hope.'
Time had passed. Wayness sat slumped in the chair, staring sightlessly across the room. The intensity of her first emotions had brought spasms of shivering and tingling to her arms and legs and viscera; an acrid sensation had risen in her throat.
The physical reactions had passed, leaving her limp and dispirited.
The damage had been done, and done decisively. There was no way she could pretend otherwise. Julian could easily precede her to Croy by a full day or more. Ample time to seek out information, and then take steps to deny the same information to Wayness.
The idea aroused her to further spasms of fury. She took herself in hand. Emotion wasted her energies and accomplished nothing. Wayness heaved a deep sigh and sat up in the chair.
Life went on. She considered the evening which lay ahead. The information Lefaun Zadoury planned to sell her was now moot, but the prospect of explaining as much no longer amused her. Likewise, dining on cabbage rolls at Lena's Bistro in company with the morose and frugal curator had lost whatever appeal it might have had. Nevertheless, for want of anything better to do, she rose to her feet, bathed and changed into a knee-length gray frock with a narrow black collar and a long narrow panel of black frogging down the front.
The time was late afternoon. Wayness thought of the outdoor cafe in front of the hotel. She went to the window and surveyed the square. Slanting light from the westering sun illuminated the ancient granite flags. Wayness noticed that the cloaks and capes of persons crossing the square flapped to gusts of wind from the steppe. Donning her own soft gray cloak, Wayness went down to the outdoor cafe in front of the hotel, where she was served green Daghestani wine with bitters.
Despite her best efforts, Wayness could not avoid brooding about Julian Bohost and the deceit he had practiced upon Pirie Tamm. A question gnawed at her mind: how had Julian learned that the Charter and Grant were missing? There was no way of knowing. In any case, the secret was no longer a secret — nor, so she thought, had it been for twelve years.
Wayness sat in the wan sunlight, watching the folk of old Kiev as they went about their affairs. The sun declined and shadows fell across the square. Wayness shivered and retreated into the lobby. She made herself comfortable and presently began to doze. She awoke to find that six o'clock had come and gone. She sat up and looked about the lobby. Lefaun Zadoury was not yet in evidence. She picked up a journal and read of archaeological researches in Kharesm, keeping watch for the gaunt young curator from the corner of her eye.
A tall figure came to stand beside her chair without her noticing; she looked up, half-startled. It was Lefaun Zadoury, but in a new guise which made him almost unrecognizable. He wore long over-tight trousers striped in black and white, a pink shirt with a green and yellow cravat, along with a vest of heavy black twill and a long bottle-green coat open down the front. A low-crowned hat of pale brown canvas pulled down over his forehead.
With difficulty Wayness controlled her amusement. Lefaun Zadoury looked down at her half-suspiciously. “You are nicely turned out, I must say.'
“Thank you.“ Wayness rose to her feet. “I did not recognize you at first; you are out of uniform.”
Lefaun’s long face twisted into a sardonic half-smile. “Did you expect to see me wearing a black gown?”
“Well no, but I did not expect such a dynamic display.” “Piffle and nonsense! I dress in whatever I pick up
