"That's a good idea. We'll call IPCC Information; we're affiliates, as I guess you know."

"That makes you a full-fledged IPCC agent. People take that rank seriously around the Reach." Chiike came to a halt.

"I've learned what I wanted, so I'll get back to work."

Glawen went on to the Old Arbor. Scharde had not yet arrived. He seated himself at a table to the side, in the dappled shade of the foliage. He ordered a dish of salted fish and a flask of the Diffin Soft Green Elixir, and settled himself to wait.

Time passed. Glawen ordered another flask of wine and, leaning forward, tilted the goblet back and forth, sending films of light swirling through the pale green liquid.

An expanse of russet satin obtruded across his vision.

Slowly he raised his eyes, knowing full well what to expect:

a black vest em broidered with purple birds in green vines, a thick white neck, a large face from which black eyes glittered like fire opals and, surmounting all, a great tumble of dark curls, constrained by some mysterious means in a quasi-cylindrical shape, although recently Spanchetta had taken to wearing roguish little curls down over each ear.

Spanchetta inspected Glawen with heavy jocosity, only partially masking dislike and disapproval. Glawen stared back like a bird hypnotized by a snake.

Spanchetta asked: "Is this how the Bureau B types toil away the hours? I see that I am attached to the wrong bureau. I too enjoy my rest."

"You are making a mistake," said Glawen politely.

"I am here by order of my superiors. Despite appearances, I am hard at work."

Spanchetta gave a curt nod.

"Since you have nothing better to do, perhaps you will provide me some information."

"I will do my best. Do you care to sit?"

Spanchetta settled into a chair across the table.

"Explain, if you will, the secrecy which now pervades Bureau B. Everyone knows that something is in the air, but no one troubles to elucidate. Why, then, pray tell me, all this furtive activity?"

Glawen smilingly shook his head.

"You put me at a disadvantage. I cannot properly answer you."

"Certainly you can! Did you not hear my question? Have you lost the use of your tongue?"

"Assume," said Glawen, "that these secrets existed. Assume that for some reason they had been confided to me. In such a case, I would not be allowed to reveal my knowledge to everyone who casually put a question to me. This is a hypothetical case, of course; still, if you wish to set your mind at ease, why not make your inquiries of Bodwyn Wook?"

Spanchetta made a contemptuous sound.

"You are very verbose;

uncharacteristically, I must say. It is more than noticeable. How much wine have you consumed, as you sit here working?"

"Not a great deal. May I order a flask for you?"

"Thank you, no. I must shortly return to my own work, and it would not do to stagger into my office singing and dancing, as seems perfectly acceptable at Bureau B."

In order to change the subject, and for lack of a better topic, Glawen asked: "How goes it with Aries? Have you had news? Or are his activities also classified 'secret'?"

Before Spanchetta could blurt a response, Scharde approached the table. He seated himself and looked quizzically at Spanchetta.

"Are you just coming or just going? Or will you join us in a cup or two of wine?"

Spanchetta hesitated, then with great dignity acquiesced to the invitation.

"I have been trying to learn the meaning of the muted whispers and furtive signals which are prevalent every time two or more Bureau B people get together. Glawen has found a clever means to evade questions; he proposes all sorts of hypotheses and conundrums, and while I am puzzling out the answers, he changes the subject. Perhaps you have a wider range of discretion."

"I hope so. In sheer point of fact, there is much to preoccupy us nowadays, what with events on Stroma and Titus Pompo ever more of a nuisance. We are about to lose patience with him."

Glawen said blandly: "Just as you came up, Spanchetta was about to report the latest news of Aries."

"That is not quite accurate," said Spanchetta with a sniff.

"I have had no news."

"Ah well, Aries is probably engrossed in his own affairs," said Scharde. He poured a goblet for Spanchetta.

"I still wonder that you encouraged him to marry a collateral, and a Laverty at that."

Spanchetta replied in a plangent voice.

"I did not encourage the match. Indeed, I was astounded that Aries should take such a step without consulting me. He suspected, perhaps, that Drusilla, with her ambiguous antecedents, would not have been my first choice."

"The hay is in the barn now," said Scharde.

"Precisely so." Spanchetta drank half the contents of the goblet at a gulp. She set it back down with a thump.

"In any event, you are a fine one to cavil, when I recall how you misled and mistreated poor Smonny, and drove her to distraction."

"It was a tragic case," said Scharde.

"Still, I suspect that she ended up in good shape. She was a woman of great persistence. It's odd that you never heard from her."

"Not altogether. Simonetta was a sensitive and truly delightful girl."

"Something of a hellion, so I recall. Spanny and Smonny: the two of you made quite a pair."

Spanchetta disdained comment. She drained the goblet and rose to her feet.

"Not being employed in Bureau B, I find that I must go to work, none the wiser--naturally enough--for all my questions."

Spanchetta marched away and departed the Old Arbor. Scharde brought out a notebook.

"I have been to the ferry terminal, which made me a few minutes late. But no matter; I noted down a most