that is his name. He directs a troupe of clowns and charlatans; he is mad for money!"

Glawen heaved a sigh. Zaa, he reflected, was remarkably free and open with her information. He wondered what undertakings she would demand before allowing him to go his way--although Plock would surely be arriving at almost any moment.

Zaa said in an offhand voice: "It was Floreste, incidentally, who notified me of your coming. He does not want you returning to Cadwal. You would disrupt his plans, so he tells me."

Glawen spoke in puzzlement: "How could he know anything of my movements?"

"No mystery there. Your associate remained at Fexelburg; am I right?"

"True: Kirdy Wook."

"It seems that Kirdy Wook called Floreste as soon as you boarded the bus and asked if he might rejoin the troupe.

Floreste agreed, and Kirdy is with him now. Whatever your arrangements, insofar as they concern Kirdy, they are not in force."

Glawen sat as if stunned.

Zaa went on.

"Now: in connection with our own arrangements, and here I refer to the so-called contract: when you first arrived, I was favorably impressed. You are healthy, intelligent and well-favored;

you are evidently normal in your sexual functions. I decided that you should attempt to fertilize the ovulating women, and create a cadre of what I shall call Neo-Monomantics. I put Lilo in close association with you, half expecting that some kind of situation might develop. But acting from what seems to be sheer mischief you startled Lilo and put her into a dither. Of course all is not lost; she is at once fascinated and frightened by what she thinks is involved. I will make sure that her hair grows and that she brings color to her skin. Others will do likewise."

Glawen cried out aghast: "All this will take months!"

"Of course. You must now think in these terms--or even longer. In the meantime, you may experiment with me. I am fertile; I am a true woman and I am not afraid. To the contrary."

Glawen asked huskily: "These are to be the 'services' called for in your contract?"

"That is correct."

Glawen found himself unable to think rationally. One thing was clear: in order to escape he must first win clear of Zonk's Tomb. He looked sidelong at Zaa.

"I don't consider the environment particularly congenial."

"It is as good as any other in the seminary."

"The dais is not all that comfortable."

"Put down the pad."

"That is a sensible idea."

Glawen spread the pad. He looked around to find that Zaa had stepped from her gown. Silhouetted against the lamplight her form was not unpleasing. Zaa came close and unclasped his gown. Glawen found himself stimulated despite the unusual circumstances. The two dropped down to the pad, where the lamplight revealed more detail than before. Glawen told himself desperately: "I will not notice the white skin nor the blue veins, nor the knobby knees, nor the sharp teeth; I will ignore the weird circumstances and the ghosts watching with wide blank eyes."

"Ah, Glawen," breathed Zaa.

"I suspect that Duality has never truly left me behind. I am Ordene but I am a woman!"

She threw back her head and the red wig rolled away to reveal her narrow white scalp and a tattoo on her forehead.

Glawen gave a choked cry and disengaged himself.

"It is beyond my capacity! Look at me! See for yourself!"

Wordlessly Zaa rearranged the wig and resumed her white gown. She stood looking at Glawen with a queer twisted grin.

At last she said: "It seems that I too must grow my hair and exercise my body in the sun."

"But what of me?"

Zaa shrugged.

"Do as you like. Study Monomantics. Perform gymnastic exercises. Explore the deep pool. I have given my information un stintingly Until I am satisfied with your services, and until my primitive female rage is soothed, you shall never leave Pogan's Point."

Zaa went to the door, tapped three times. It swung open; she passed through and the door closed.

Glawen sat on the edge of the dais, legs sprawled out, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. This moment, he thought, must be considered the very nadir of his life--though the situation had the potentiality for becoming worse.

Time passed, of duration unknown: more than an hour, less than a day. Someone came out on the balcony and lowered a basket on a string, then departed, leaving the lamp in place.

Without haste and with no great interest, Glawen went to investigate. The basket held several pots, containing bean soup, stew, bread, tea and three figs. Evidently he was not to be starved.

Glawen discovered that he was very hungry. He had eaten nothing in the refectory except a bite or two of bread; how much time had passed since then? More than a day, less than a week.

Glawen finished all the food and replaced the pots in the basket. He now felt somewhat more energetic and looked around the tomb. The ceiling, fifty feet above, was a vault of unbroken stone. The spring seeped into the room through a fissure halfway up the wall.

Glawen went to look at the tunnel where the water left the chamber. The opening was roughly circular, about three feet in diameter. Glawen could see that the tunnel trended downward after leaving the tomb. From far away he heard a steady gurgle, of water falling into water. Glawen turned away with a shiver. One day he might want to seek out the pool, so dark and cold, but not yet.

Glawen went back to sit on the edge of the dais. What now?

Something must happen, he told himself. A person simply did not live away the days and weeks and years of his life immured in a cave. Still, there was no immutable law of nature which stated the contrary.

Time passed. Nothing happened, except that after a long interval the basket was drawn up and another basket lowered.

' Glawen ate, then arranged himself on the pad, pulled the blanket over himself and slept.

A time certainly to be measured in days and weeks went by, with two food baskets apparently representing the interval of one day. Glawen noted the succession by scratching a mark for each two baskets on a flat stone. On the eleventh day Muds appeared on the balcony, and lowered fresh garments and a fresh sheet. He spoke in a gruff voice: "I am instructed to ask if there is anything you want?"

"Yes. A razor and soap. Paper and a stylus."

The items were lowered in the next basket.

Thirty days passed by, and forty, then fifty. The fifty-second day, if Glawen's reckoning was accurate, was his birthday. Was he now Glawen Clattuc, full-status Agent of Araminta Station? Or Glawen co-Clattuc, collateral and excess population, with no status whatever?

What could be happening at Araminta Station? By now someone must be making inquiries as to what had happened to him.

What would Kirdy tell Bodwyn Wook? The truth? Not likely.