"As I sit here and think back over what happened, I feel a dozen emotions. The strongest is relief that it is all over. There were good moments, of

course: when my feet hit the ground outside the seminary.

Even tonight I took a certain cruel pleasure watching Kirdy and Floreste across the table."

"And now come the tiresome details. Floreste will demand leniency. His victims were only Yips; they were the raw material of a new artistic technique; he is everywhere recognized as a genius and must not be bound by ordinary regulations. Dame Dorna may very well endorse such arguments; she dotes on him and is a member of the Fine Arts Committee."

A footman entered the room.

"Your instructions have been followed, sir."

Bodwyn Wook nodded with satisfaction.

"As I expected, Floreste and Kirdy, pleading fatigue, left the supper early.

They were accosted at the door and taken into custody. The dignity of the House Supper has not been compromised. Well, then, enough of that. May I pour you some more wine? This is our best Chariste and excels anything else of its type produced at the station."

"It is indeed very good."

For a period the two sipped the wine.

"Now, then," said Bodwyn Wook, "we must give some thought to your personal problems."

"I have already done so. I intend to find what has happened to my father."

"Hm, yes. Well, I can't hold out much hope. We searched with great care. We found nothing and heard no distress signals.

There are dozens of possibilities; we've tried to analyze them all, with the same result: nothing."

Glawen sat swirling the wine around in his goblet. Presently he said:

"That is suggestive in itself, don't you think?"

"Suggestive of what?"

"I don't know. It must mean something. First of all, in the case of a crash, we would expect to find the wreckage."

"Not necessarily. He might have gone down into a forest or a lake."

"Still one wonders. According to Spanchetta, his flyer was struck by lightning near the Mahadions."

"That is one theory, and it's as good as any or as bad as any, if you prefer."

"I'll talk to Chiike tomorrow." Glawen hesitated, then said:

"I might as well know the worst right now. How will I be affected at Bureau B by my new status? Or am I out entirely?"

"Ha-ha!" said Bodwyn Wook, drinking from his goblet.

"So long as I am Superintendent Bodwyn Wook you are Captain Glawen Clattuc. Your abilities, which I consider notable, transcend any question of formal status. And in this connection, I can't help but feel that something rather odd is going on."

"How so?"

"I can't be sure just yet. On the surface, everything seems proper. But I wonder if all is as it seems."

"I'm afraid that I don't understand you."

"Let us go back to a time three weeks before your birthday.

You were at Pogan's Point. At this time Eri Clattuc was killed in a landslide at Cape Journal, and your index dropped to 20.

"Then what? Strange events occur! The Mummers return to Araminta Station, with Aries, Drusilla and Gorton. You are once again 21. Had Scharde the option, he would have gone into retirement and set things right--but Scharde has now been gone almost two months.

"What if Scharde does not return before your birthday? What if he fails to return at all? At any time, the Clattuc House Election Board-chaired, incidentally, by Spanchetta--can meet and declare Scharde dead, which is a fair supposition.

If this occurs before your birthday, you revert to 20 and regain the Agency status which Scharde intended that you should have.

"Spanchetta pointedly refused to call the meeting until two weeks after your birthday, when you were irrevocably a collateral and expelled from Clattuc House. Then, and only then, did Spanchetta call the meeting which as its first order of business presumed Scharde's death, announced a vacancy and filled this vacancy from the collateral list.

Can you guess who headed the list?"

"Namour!"

"Just so. In effect Spanchetta kicked you out and gave Namour your place. Is it not ironic? Namour professes to care not a fig for the House. Still, he demurred not an instant when the opportunity appeared."

Glawen sighed.

"At the moment I don't much care one way or the other."

"Your father would not want you to be passive."

"True. I will look into the situation."

"Until your affairs are in order, you shall be my guest here at Wook House. Kirdy will be unhappy and Ticia may well pretend not to see you, but pay her no heed; it is her way of calling attention to herself. Otherwise, you will find us congenial."

In the morning Glawen took breakfast alone in the rooms Bodwyn Wook had put at his disposal, then set off down Wansey Way, under a sky full of small scudding clouds:

fugitives from a tremendous storm, now five hundred miles out to sea, but advancing inexorably toward the coast. At Beach Road, Glawen returned north and proceeded to the airport, where he found Chiike sitting in his office drinking tea. Chiike looked up in surprise.

"I thought you were dead! That was the rumor that came to my ears."

"I'm alive. It's my father who seems to be dead."

"That is the general assumption. I don't know any more than you already know." Chiike brought out a map.

"He flew on a standard patrol: northeast over Pandora Plain, past the Mahadions, around Lake Garnet, north to the ocean, then along the Marmion Foreshore and back down the coast: at least, that was the course that went into his autopilot."

Glawen asked further questions, but Chiike had nothing to add except speculations and suspicions.