“Naturally I am a careful man!”
“And you kept nothing?”
“Not so much as a torn photograph.”
“What of Keebles? Did he keep anything?'
Moncurio shook his head. “This stuff was not in Keebles' line. He took it in trade from a certain Floyd Swaner, now dead. In exchange, Keebles gave Swaner a set of tanglets.” He took a green Jade medallion from a shelf, and fondled it lovingly. “This is a tanglet, which the ancient Shadowmen used to certify the glory of their champions. Nowadays tanglets are much in vogue among the collectors.” He replaced the tanglet on the shelf. “Unfortunately, they are ever harder to find.'
Glawen asked: “And the Naturalist documents — you know nothing about them — for instance, where they are now”?”
“Nothing, beyond what I have told you.'
After a moment Wayness heaved a sigh. “I came down the ladder, rung by rung: Gohoon Galleries to Funusti Museum to Mirky Porod to Trieste, to Casa Lucasta, and finally to Moonway.”
“I came up the ladder, from Idola on the Big Prairie to Division City to Tanjaree to Moonway?’
'Moonway is the middle rung, where we should find what we are looking for, but Moonway is as empty as the rest.'
Moncurio asked: 'What are you seeking? Could it be the Cadwal Charter and Grant?”
Wayness nodded sadly. They have become very important, even critical, if Cadwal is to remain a conservancy.”
Glawen asked: “Did you know they were missing?”
“When I first saw the Naturalist documents, I noticed that the Charter and the Grant were missing. Keebles never saw them, of this I am certain. All of which means that he did not receive them from Floyd Swaner.”
“This surely was Smonny Clattuc’s opinion,' said Glawen. “She burgled the Chilke barn any number of times and eviscerated the stuffed moose, but never came up with anything.”
“So what could have happened to the Charter and Grant?” asked Moncurio.
“That is the mystery we are trying to solve,” said Wayness.
'Grandpa Swaner left everything to his grandson Eustace,” said Glawen. “Smonny tried to get hold of Chilke’s property in every way she could think of, including marriage, which of course Chilke avoided. Life was too short, he said. Now it seems that no one — Chilke, Smonny, Wayness, you, I, no one — knows what has happened to the Charter and the Grant.'
“An interesting problem,” said Moncurio. “I can offer no clues.” He pulled at his mustache, then glanced over his shoulder toward the bedchamber. The door was slightly ajar. Moncurio quietly crossed the room, eased the door shut and returned to his previous place. “We must not disturb Carlotta with our talk. Ha hm. It seems that you have gone to great pains in your search.” He looked toward Wayness. “Did I hear you mention 'Casa Lucasta’?”
“You did.”
Moncurio phrased a question with care. “Interesting we are speaking of 'Casa Lucasta' in — I forget the name of the town.'
“Pombareales.”
“Yes, of course. And how go things in that odd little corner of Old Earth?”
Wayness considered. “The folk of Patagonia have long memories. They are still on the look-out for an archaeologist named 'Professor Solomon’.”
“Bah!” Moncurio gave an uncomfortable laugh. “You are referring to a promotional scheme which went sour. The idea was to advertise a new tourist complex, but at the last minute the principals backed off, and I was left in an exposed position. It’s the old, old story from which I emerged a cynic, I can assure you!”
Wayness gave an incredulous laugh. 'A tourist resort on the pampas, with wind blowing weeds back and forth?'
Moncurio nodded with dignity. “I advised against the scheme, but when everything collapsed I was left alone to face the hysteria. They accused me, if you can believe it, of larceny, swindling, fraud, chicanery and much else. I was lucky to escape.”
“That is how it seems to everyone,” said Wayness.
Moncurio ignored the remark. “You visited Casa Lucasta?'
“Often.”
“And how is Irena?'
“Irena is dead.”
Moncurio’s face sagged in dismay. “What happened to her?'
“She killed herself, after trying to kill the two children.”
Moncurio winced. “And the children: what of them?'
“They are safe. Madame Clara said that you and Irena kept them dosed with drugs.”
“That is a malicious distortion! I did the children a great service in taking them from the Gangrils. On Nion life means nothing.”
“Still, why drag them on Old Earth? That is no great favor!'!
'It was for the benefit of us all! I can easily explain, though you may not easily understand. Listen then! I learned something of the Gangril drugs — not much; just a smattering. They are able to reinforce certain functions of the brain and suppress others. Clairvoyance is ability they can enhance.”
“Now then! I am an archaeologist of not inconsiderable reputation.' Moncurio put on an expression of stern and inflexible dedication. “My first responsibility is to science; I am unswerving in this regard! Still, from time to time I am able to discover hidden treasures which allow me to finance my researches.”
“Uncle Pirie describes you as a 'tomb robber’,' said Wayness.
'That is a bit uncharitable,” said Moncurio. “Still, I am a practical man, and I make no bones of it. The heroes of the ancient Shadowmen were burled with their tanglets. A set of such tanglets is worth a fortune. But only one tomb in sixty yields more than three or four and only one in a hundred is a hero's tomb. To dig into a single tomb is both tiresome and dangerous; I have evaded death by inches many times. If a clairvoyant person could indicate which of the tombs contained a set of hero's tanglets, in a year we could leave Moonway forever and live in prosperity the rest of our lives. And there you have the explanation for Irena, the drugs and the two children. Irena loved money above all else; I knew that she would be fanatically faithful.'
The door leading into the bedchamber burst open and Carlotta stormed out into the sitting room. “I have heard enough! Do you think me deaf, dumb and blind? I am neither a Gangril, nor a robber, nor am I 'fanatically faithful’. I am disgusted with what I have heard! You would be treated to the rough edge of my tongue if we were alone!”
“Carlotta, my dear! Let us be temperate!”
“I am being temperate. I will call you a scoundrel, a festering sore and a human jackal. That is temperance and it must suffice. I will send for my belongings tomorrow.'
Carlotta marched through the front door and out into the night. The door thudded shut.
Moncurio paced back and forth, head lowered, arms clasped behind his back. “I am dogged by adversity; it must be my destiny! After travail and endless patience, not to mention expense, my plans lie in shards!” He glanced sharply at Wayness. “Who informed you of my address? Was it Clara? I have never trusted that woman!”
“Myron told me.”
“Myron?” Moncurio’s jaw dropped. “How did he know?'
Wayness shrugged. ”Clairvoyance, perhaps.”
Moncurio resumed his pacing. Glawen and Wayness rose to their feet, bade Moncurio goodbye, and followed Carlotta out into the night.
Standing by the railing at the edge of the verandah they looked toward the ghostly ranks of the Standing Stones.
“I am still frightened,” said Wayness. “I was sure that I would be killed.”
“It was a near thing. I should never have let you go off by yourself.” Glawen put his arms around her; they embraced.
Wayness spoke at last. “So — what now?”
“At the moment I can't think of anything sensible. My head seems to be whirling. I would like to find us a
