Glawen swallowed the lump in his throat and pretended that he felt no forebodings or fears.

A few late arrivals came running from the terminal and thankfully boarded the ship. Imminence grew heavy in the air. A chime sounded. Glawen felt the dull impact of ports thudding shut. A thin whine from no apparent source rose in pitch and passed beyond audibility. Without sensible acceleration the ship rose from the soil ofCadwal into the sky.

Glawen looked along the promenade. Kirdy was nowhere to be seen. Glawen turned back to the outside view. Kirdy had known terrible events, and deserved whatever compassion as might conveniently and practically be extended.

Cadwal became a ball, bright in the lemon-white shine of Syrene. Far to the south Throy was a black-green wedge.

Glawen tried to find the site of Stroma, without success.

Wistful thoughts of Way ness entered his mind; when would he see her again? And what would she have to tell him?

Kirdy came slouching along the promenade, face somber, eyes unfocused. Glawen saw that he would walk wordlessly past.

Despite his previous pang of sympathy, he was now a trifle nettled. He called out: "Kirdy! Over here! Look at me! I'm Glawen!"

Kirdy halted, pondered a moment, then joined Glawen by the window.

"Let me propound a syllogism," said Glawen. ""The world is real. I am part of the world. Hence I am real."" Kirdy reflected.

"I am not sure that the logic is totally rigorous. You should have phrased the first premise thus:

"The world is made of real parts." Or: "Every part of the world is real." And next: "I am one of these parts." In the latter case you leave unresolved the question as to whether an aggregation of real parts necessarily constitutes a real whole."

"I'll give the matter some thought," said Glawen.

"Meanwhile, you and I are both aboard the ship. We cannot avoid each other--at least not altogether. These are the facts."

Kirdy only shrugged and looked off along the promenade.

With great politeness Glawen asked: "Do you still enjoy the view? I suppose you have seen it many times."

Kirdy glanced out the window, as if only just now taking note of the spectacle.

"As you say, I've seen it before. It doesn't change much. Sometimes Lorca and Sing hang out there like a pair of carrion birds, sometimes not. Floreste never liked to see them; he thought they brought bad luck. He had dozens of such quirks and fancies, which we ignored at our risk."

Glawen asked: "How long were you with the Mummers?"

"Seven years. I started when I was ten. I was one of the original Tumble-bugs."

"It must have been a great adventure."

Kirdy grunted.

"Floreste kept us hard at it. Half the time we never knew where we were, although we usually made the same run: Natrice, Soum, sometimes out to Protagne or Tassadero or New Calvary, or even Mildred's Blue World, then back to the Wisp and Old Lumas, and once or twice down to Caffin's World. We never went much farther."

"Why was that?"

"We'd go as far as Floreste could promote cheap transportation;

he's an avaricious old devil not for himself, mind you, but for his new Orpheum."

"Which of these worlds did you like the best?"

Kirdy replied in a measured monotone.

"Floreste fed us better on Soum. Natrice was dull and very moral, especially out along the Lanklands, where food was the worst. We were served cakes of shredded nettles and a sour black lizard soup. The only sweets were shriveled little pellets like raisins, which I learned were dried insects. Floreste would only go to the Lanklands when he couldn't fill our schedule in Poinciana or Halcyon or Summer City. The Sanart Scientists have a law which bars heterosexual pageants to hetero sexual audiences. Floreste ignored the law but no one bothered him, since his shows were so innocent, particularly among the Sanart Scientists."

"Sanart Scientists?" Illumination came to Glawen's mind.

"So that's where the "SS." in front of names comes from."

"They'll all SS. this or SS. that," said Kirdy.

"It's a mark of dignity."

"What of the ladies? Are they dignified too?"

"They'd like to be, I'm sure. But they're Vs. this and Vs.

that."

"Which means what?"

Kirdy shrugged.

"Floreste said it meant "Vessel," but he might have been joking. They wear long black gowns and funny black hats. Floreste said it was because ladies were inherently frivolous. The Scientist ladies looked more woebegone than anything else. I'm told that each morning at dawn everyone bathes in cold water."

"I'd be woebegone too," said Glawen.

Kirdy gave an abstracted nod.

"We heard strange stories about the Sanart Scientists."

"The strangest of all is that six Sanart Scientists went out to Thurben Island, along with Sir Mathor Borph and Sir Lonas Medlyn from Halcyon."

"Those last two are Patrunes, which means 'aristocrats."

Ordinarily they're not on good terms with the Sanart Scientists, but I guess on Thurben Island all cats are gray.

Ah, me. It's none of our business, after all."

Glawen turned him a puzzled glance.

"Certainly it's our business, if it helps us identify Ogmo."

"Don't you really think it's a lot of wasted energy? This is just one of Bodwyn Week's famous naming uproars. The old baboon fears he'll be ignored otherwise. The Thurben Island parties are stopped; what more does he want?"

"He wants to capture the villains responsible, so that they won't do it again. It's a fine idea."