can find the better!”
And: 'I marvel, I stand in awe, I am baffled when I try to calculate the probabilities of our meeting — you, the denizen of a world at the back of nowhere; I, a gentleman of Old Earth!”
'It seems an act of Predestination that we ignore, to our sure regret! No matter how one implores the Fates, our neglected opportunities can never be repaired!'
To which Wayness made the following rejoinders: “Up hill and down dale, hopping culverts and drains, stumbling over cobbles, scuttling through the back alleys like rats: is that it? No, thank you; tonight your cricket must chirp alone.'
And: “I don’t feel at all like a plum. Think of me, rather, as a green persimmon, or a dead starfish, or a dish of old tripe.'
And: 'I agree that the odds against our meeting were enormous. It seems that Destiny is trying to tell you something — namely, that your chances of success elsewhere, say with Natalinya Harmin, are far better than with me.'
At last Lefaun gave up and let her enter the hotel with no more than a muttered: 'Goodnight’.”
“Goodnight, Lefaun.”
Wayness ran across the lobby and went directly up to her room. For a few moments she sat thinking, then telephoned Fair Winds.
Pirie Tamm's bleak face appeared on the screen. “Fair Winds.'
'Wayness here. Are you alone?”
“Quite alone.”
“Are you sure? Where is Julian?'
“Presumably in Ybarra. He used the telephone this afternoon and immediately told me that though he was sorry to leave Fair Winds so abruptly, he must visit an old friend who was departing Ybarra spaceport in two days, and inside the half-hour he was gone. Not a chap I particularly liked. What is your news?'
“It is tolerably good news,” said Wayness. “In effect, we have sent Julian off on a wild goose chase. He has gone to Croy, of course.”
“A wild goose chase, you say!'
Wayness explained. 'I'm calling now, because I did not want you to worry all night long.”
“Thank you, Wayness. I shall sleep better, be assured. And what are your plans?'
“I am not sure yet. I must do some thinking. Perhaps I will go directly to not far from here…'
CHAPTER VI
In her room at the Mazeppa Hotel Wayness studied a map. The town Draczeny in the Moholc was no vast distance from Kiev as the crow flew but connections were anything but direct. The castle Mirky Porod was evidently located in a region of great natural charm, to the side of the usual tourist routes and commercial depots, though it was not indicated on the map.
Wayness pondered her options. Julian had been discomfited, at least temporarily. The chances were slight that he would return to Fair Winds. In the morning, therefore, Wayness flew directly to Shillaway, to arrive at Fair Winds during the middle afternoon.
Pirie Tamm was clearly happy to see her. 'It seems as if you have been gone for weeks.'
'I feel much the same. But I can't relax just yet. Julian has a bad temper and he hates to be thwarted.'
'What can he do? Very little, or so I suppose.'
'If he learns that Aeolus Benefices' is another way of saying 'Funusti Museum' he can do a great deal. I spent thirty sols for information; Julian might spend forty, but to the same effect. So I dare not delay.'
“What, then, are your plans?'
“At this particular moment I want to learn something of the Counts de Flamanges, so that when I present myself at Mirky Porod, I will not be arriving in a state of total ignorance.”
“Most wise,” said Pirie Tamm. “If you like, while you are changing for dinner, I will check the references and see what information is available.'
“That would be very helpful.”
At dinner Pirie Tamm announced that he had assembled a considerable body of information; “Probably as much as you will need, However, I suggest that we postpone the report until after dinner, since I have a tendency toward discursiveness. Notice this tureen! We have been served a truly noble dish: stewed duck with dumplings and leeks.'
“Just as you like, Uncle Pirie.”
'I will say this much: over the centuries the family has been neither staid nor stolid, but has produced its share of adventurers and eccentrics, as well as several renowned scholars. Naturally there are hints of a scandal or two. At the moment, this particular quantity seems to have gone into abeyance. It is an aged woman, the Countess Ottilie, with whom you must deal.'
Wayness mulled over the information in silence. A thought occurred to her. “You mentioned that Julian used the telephone before he left?”
“Yes; so he did.”
“You have no idea whom he called?”
“None whatever.”
“Odd. Julian has never mentioned friends on Earth and it is just what he would most likely talk about.'
“For a fact, he is quite a talker.” Pirie Tamm grinned sourly. “He is dissatisfied with Ararninta Station and its social and environmental works.”
“There is room for criticism; everyone agrees to that,” said Wayness. “If the staff had done a better job over the years, there would be no Yips at Yipton, and no problem now.'
“Hmm. Julian spoke at length of the ‘democratic solution’.'
“What he meant is entirely different from what you understood. The Conservationists want to resettle the Yips on another world, and maintain the Conservancy. The LPFers — they hate being called ‘Peefers’, though it is much easier, want to let the Yips loose on the mainland, where they would live, so it is claimed, in rustic simplicity, singing and dancing, and celebrating the passage of the seasons with quaint rites.”
“That is more or less what Julian implied.”
“Meanwhile the Peefers will annex vast estates of choice land for themselves, and become the new landed gentry. When they talk about this, they speak of 'public service' and 'duty' and 'administrative necessities.' But I've seen Julian's plans for the country house he hopes to build someday — using cheap Yip labor, of course.'
'He used the word 'democracy' several times.'
'He used the Peefer definition. Each Yip has one vote and each Conservationist has one vote. Ah well, enough of Julian. At least, I hope so.”
After dinner, the two went to the drawing room and settled themselves in front of the fire. 'Now,' said Pirie Tamm, “I will tell you something about the Counts de Flamanges. The family is very old — three or four thousand years, at least. Mirky Porod was built on the site of a medieval castle and for a time functioned as a hunting lodge. The place has a colorful history: the usual tumult of duels by moonlight, intrigues and betrayals, romantic escapades by the hundreds. Nor has there been any lack of the macabre. Prince Pust over a period of thirty years kidnapped maidens and did horrid deeds upon them; his victims numbered over two thousand and his imagination never flagged. Count Bodor one of the early Flamanges, conducted demoniac rituals, which ultimately became frenzies of the most fantastic sort. I derive this information from a book called UNUSUAL TALES FROM THE MOHOLC. The author tells us that the ghosts at Mirky Porod are therefore of dubious origin, and might derive either from the time of Prince Pust, or of Count Bodor, or possibly other circumstances now forgotten to history.'
Wayness asked: 'How long ago was this book written?'
'It seems to have been a relatively recent work. I could find it if you became interested in one or another of
