the cases.'
“No. Don’t bother.'
Pirie Tamm nodded placidly and went on with his remarks.
“In general, the Counts de Flamanges seem to have been of good character, save for the occasional bad hat like Count Bodor. A thousand years ago Count Sarbert was a founder of the Naturalist Society; the family has traditionally been associated with conservationist causes. Count Lesmund offered to donate a large tract of land to the Naturalist Society as a site for a new headquarters, but unfortunately: the plan came to naught. Count Raul was a member and strong supporter of the Society until his death some twenty years ago. Hus widow, the Countess Ottilie, now lives at Mirky Porod alone. She is childless, and the heir is Count Raul's nephew, Baron Trembath, whose estate is beside Lake Fon, and who operates an equestrian school.”
“Countess Ottilie, as I mentioned, lives in seclusion, seeing no one but doctors for herself and veterinaries for her dogs. She is said to be extremely avaricious, though she commands great wealth. There is a hint or two that she is, let us say, eccentric. When one of her dogs died, she beat the attending veterinary with her walking stick and drove him away. The veterinary seems to have been of philosophical disposition. When the journalists asked if he intended to sue, he merely shrugged and said that both beating and biting were accepted hazards of his profession, and there the matter rested.”
“Count Raul had been a generous contributor to Society a fact which the Countess bitterly resented.”
“Mirky Porod itself occupies a splendid site, at the head of a valley, with Lake Jerest only a few yards away. There are wild hills and dense forests at the back and forests to both right and left. It is not uncomfortably large; in fact, I made copies of photographs and the floor plan, if you are interested.”
“Very much so.”
Pirie Tamm gave her the material in an envelope. He spoke plaintively: “I wish I understood better what you have in mind. The Charter and Grant will never be found at Mirky Porod; that is certain.'
“Why do you say that?'
“If these documents had come into the possession of Count Raul, he would certainly have turned them over to the Society.”
“So it would seem. Still, there are any number of possibilities why that should not be so. For instance, suppose he were ill when he received the documents and never found time to check them over? Or that these items were mislaid while he was sorting things out? Perhaps Countess Ottilie recognized their value and put them aside? Or, worse, them into the fire?”
“As you say, anything is possible. Still, Count Raul did not buy the material at Gohoons auction; there was a far larger volume of material, and if Countess Ottilie were giving away those relatively personal records, she surely must have included the other material. In other words, it was someone else who bought the Charter and Grant from Gohoon — which means that your searches are not leading you toward the Charter but away from it.”
'Not so,” said Wayness. “Imagine the Charter as resting in the rung of a ladder. We can find it either by starting at the top and working down, or starting at the bottom and working up.'
“That is a fine analogy,' said Pirie Tamm. “It’s only fault is unintelligibility.”
'In that case, I will explain again, but without the analogy. Nisfit stole the goods; they passed through
Mischap and Doorn to Gohoon, then to someone we must call A, Simonetta Clattuc learned the identity of A, but either she could not find him or he passed the material on to B, who might have given it to C, who sold it to D, who passed it on to E. Somewhere along this progression she has been brought to a halt. Let us say that the Funusti Museum is F and Count Raul de Flamanges E, then now we are looking for D. In other words, we must work backward along the line until we reach whoever has the Charter. Simonetta is starting from A, and seems to have met difficulties along the way. Then there is Julian, who is starting from X, which is to say, Aeolus Benefices at Croy. Where he goes from there I can't even guess. In any case, we have no time to delay, and Countess Ottilie may not choose to be helpful.”
Pirie Tamm clenched his teeth. “If only I had my strength, how gladly I would take the load from your shoulders!””
“You are already helping enormously,” said Wayness. “I could not function without you.”
“It is nice of you to say so.'
By a variety of modes Wayness traveled from Fair Winds into the deep Moholc: by omnibus to Shillaway, by subterranean slideway to Anthelm and by feedertube to Passau, thence by airbus to Draczeny and by rickety omnibus into the far Moholc, under the loom of the Carnat Mountains.
Late in the afternoon, with the wind blowing in gusts, Wayness arrived at the village Tzem, beside the River Sogor, with steep forested hills close to either side. Clouds raced across the sky; Wayness' skirt fluttered as she stepped down from the bus. She moved away a few steps, then glanced back, to verify that no one had followed her, nor was there any other vehicle approaching from the direction they had come.
The bus had halted in front of the village inn: The Iron Pig, if the sign swinging above the doorway to be credited. The main street followed the course of the river, which was spanned by a stone bridge of three arches directly in front of the inn. At the center of the bridge, three old men wearing baggy blue pantaloons and high- cocked hunter's hats stood fishing. To fortify themselves, they took occasional swallows from large green bottles which were kept in tackle boxes at their feet, meanwhile calling back and forth from one to the other, exchanging advice, cursing the perversity of all fish, the impudence of the wind, and whatever else came to mind.
Wayness secured lodging at The Iron Pig, then went out explore the village. Along the main street she discovered a bakery a green-grocer's market, a tool shop which also sold sausages, hair-dresser/insurance agent, a wine shop, a post office and a number of other enterprises of less note. Wayness stepped into a stationer’s shop, which was little more than a booth. The proprietress, a jovial woman of middle age, leaned on her counter, gossiping with a pair of cronies who sat on a bench opposite. Here was a sure font of information, thought Wayness. She bought a journal and stood pretending to read but with an ear tuned to the conversation, which presently she was allowed to join. She described herself as a student investigating antiquities of the region. The proprietress told her “You've come to the right place; there are three of us here, each more antique than the others.'
Wayness accepted a cup of tea and was introduced to the company. The proprietress was Madame Katrin; her friends were Madame Esme and Madame Stasia.
After a few moments Wayness mentioned Mirky Porod, and, as she had anticipated, tapped an instant freshet of information.
Madame Katrin gave an exclamation of regret. “It is not now as it was in the old days! Then Mirky Porod commanded our attention, that I'll tell you, what with banquets and balls, and all manner of goings-on! Now it is as dull as ditchwater.'
“That was when Count Raul was alive,' Madame Esme told Wayness.
“True He was a man of importance, and there was never any lack of famous folk at Mirky Porod! And not always on their best behavior, that is, if all the stories one heard could be believed.”
“Ha ha!' declared Madame Stasia. “I believe them well enough, human nature being what it is!'
“And the famous folk, along with their rank and their wealth, always seem to have more of this “human nature' than anyone else,' observed Madame Katrin.
'Just so,” said Madame Esme sagely. “And if it were not so rich and juicy, there would be no scandal'
Wayness asked: 'What of the Countess Ottilie? How did she deal with the scandals?”
“My dear!” exclaimed Madame Stasia. “It was she who created them!”
“The Countess and her dogs!” sniffed Madame Katrin.
“Between them they drove poor Count Raul to his death!”
“How so?” asked Wayness.
“Of course nothing is certain, but it is said that the Count, in one last futile effort, forbade Countess Ottilie to bring her beasts into the dining room. Soon after, he committed suicide by jumping from a window in the North Tower. Countess Ottilie said that he had been driven by remorse for his cruelty to her and her little friends.”
The three ladles chuckled. Madame Katrin said: “And now all is quiet at Mirky Porod. Each Saturday afternoon the Countess entertains her friends. They play at piquet for small stakes, and if the Countess loses more than a few pence, she flies into a rage.”
Wayness asked: “If I were to call on the Countess, would she receive me?'
Madame Stasia Said: “As to that, much depends on her mood.”
