"What do you think of your seven-foot Naturalists?"

"They're not an embarrassment."

"That's a relief."

"At first it wasn't all that easy. I thought they would want to talk about ecology and the most nutritious kinds of fish oil, but when I brought these subjects up, they showed very little interest. Eventually I opened a bottle of Green Zoquel, and the talk went more easily. I still find them a bit stiff."

"Away from home and in new surroundings they probably feel uncomfortable and shy."

Glawen gave his head a dubious shake.

"Why should they be shy? They're well-mannered and nicely dressed, and even handsome, in a quiet sort of way. Though the girl is a trifle plain."

Scharde raised his eyebrows.

"Plain? I had a different impression. Agreed, she's not buxom, but her face glows with intelligence; she's a pleasure to look at... What did you finally find to talk about?"

"I told them about Sisco and the stolen gear. They were very much interested much more than I had expected. It seems that at Stroma the Yips are a major political issue."

"So I am told," said Scharde.

"One faction is ready for changes; at least, it renounces force and violence as instruments of policy. The second faction is made up of old-fashioned Naturalists, who aren't all that squeamish.

They want the Yips either to stop breeding or to leave Cadwal, or both. The Conservator must be neutral, but privately he seems to lean toward the Chartists."

"Milo put it even more strongly, especially after he heard Chilke's theory."

"You're ahead of me there," said Scharde.

"What is Chilke's theory?"

"He thinks that the Yips have been stealing flyers from us a piece at a time. He says that the inventory records, even though they are a mess, indicate something of the sort."

"That's an interesting notion."

"Milo put it this way: "If the Yips steal flyers, it means that they want to fly somewhere. If they steal guns, it means that they want to shoot someone."" Scharde rubbed his chin.

"And all because you pulled the trigger on an empty gun."

In the morning, Glawen took Milo and Wayness down Wansey Way, past the lyceum to the Mummers' warehouse, where stage properties and costumes were stored. The building was empty;

the three walked along the wardrobe racks, inspecting costumes and holding them up to themselves. Milo finally selected a harlequin costume of black and yellow diaper with a black tricorn hat. Wayness wavered between half a dozen costumes but finally chose an overall pink garment, fitting snugly to arms, legs and torso, with black pompons down the front. A tight hood with slanting eye holes left only nose, mouth and chin exposed, with a crown of delicate silver spirals clasping her hair.

Without perceptible self-consciousness, Milo and Wayness slipped from their outer garments and tried on the costumes.

Milo said sorrowfully: "Glawen's finally got us disguised and bedizened, and now we'll probably commit all sorts of disgraceful acts. Glawen will have a great load on his conscience."

"Not unless you get caught," said Glawen.

"Be careful, and if you can't be careful, at least be furtive."

"This is a nice costume, and I intend to be very nice," said Wayness. She studied her reflection in a tall mirror.

"I

look like a scrawny pink animal."

"You look more like a pink cloud-fairy, which is how you are supposed to look."

"Shall we stay as we are or get back into our own clothes?"

"Stay as you are. I'll change into my costume, then we'll go out in search of adventure."

At Clattuc House Glawen became a black demon, then telephoned Sessily.

"We're all in costume and about ready to go out. Shall we stop by for you?"

"Hopeless. My relatives are here from Cassiopeia and I've been dragooned into walking them around town until noon."

"We'll meet you for lunch in the Old Arbor."

p "I'll try to be there. If not, we'll share a table tonight under the lanterns. What are your friends wearing?"

"Milo is a harlequin, in yellow and black. Wayness is a pink cloud-fairy. What about you?"

"I'm not sure. Miranda has decided to astound everyone as a Pierrot, and I'll probably be the same, at least for today."

The morning went by pleasantly, or so it seemed to Glawen.

At noon the three found a table in the Old Arbor: a place half restaurant, half open-air tavern under an arbor overgrown with lilac and native jelosaria. An open arcade overlooked the Quadrangle and a number of folk already costumed for Parilia.

Sessily presently appeared, costumed not as a Pierrot but as a whimsical entity she had patched together from bits of this and that. She identified herself as a Kalaki temple dancer from ancient Earth.

"So that's what they looked like," said Milo.

"Don't count on it," said Sessily.

"I make no guarantee .. What shall we have for lunch?"

Milo asked: "What do you suggest?"

"Everything is good here. I especially like the skewers of meat, with hot sauce and bread."

Glawen said: "Cold ale goes along very nicely."

"Not for me," said Sessily.

"Floreste changed his mind again and I've got to learn two new programs before Milden afternoon. It's not difficult, but it takes all my time Look! There he goes now!" Sessily pointed to a tall sharp-featured man with a great soft bush of gray hair, Striding on long lean legs across the Quadrangle.