Rhialto shrugged. "Perhaps so. As always, I am impatient with obscure symbolism. The analogy assists us not at all."

Ildefonse ruminated. "It suggests that rather than meeting the Murthe power against power, we must slide across and over the gush of her hoarded energy, until at last she has spent herself and we, like stout ships, float secure and dry."

"Again, a pretty image, but limited. The Murthe displays a protean power."

Ildefonse stroked his beard and looked pensively off into space. "Indeed, one inevitably starts to wonder whether this fervor, cleverness and durability might also govern her—or, so to speak, might tend to influence her conduct in, let us say, the realm of—"

"I understand the gist of your speculation," said Rhialto. "It is most likely nuncupatory."

Ildefonse gave his head a wistful shake. "Sometimes one's thoughts go where they will."

A golden insect darted out of the shadows, circled the lamp and flew back into the darkness. Rhialto instantly became alert. "Someone has entered Falu, and now waits in the parlour." He went to the door and called out sharply: "Who is there? Speak, or dance the tarantella on feet of fire."

"Hold hard your spell!" spoke a voice. "It is I, Lehuster!"

"In that case, come forward."

Into the work-room came Lehuster, soiled and limping, his shoulder feathers bedraggled, in a state of obvious fatigue. He carried a sack which he gratefully dropped upon the leather-slung couch under the window.

Ildefonse surveyed him with frowning disfavor. "Well then, Lehuster, you are here at last! A dozen times during the night we might have used your counsel, but you were nowhere to be found. What, then, is your report?"

Rhialto handed Lehuster a tot of aquavit. 'This will alleviate your fatigue; drink and then speak freely."

Lehuster consumed the liquid at a gulp. "Aha! A tipple of rare quality! . . . Well then, I have little enough to tell you, though I have spent a most toilsome night, performing necessary tasks. All are en-squalmed, save only yourselves. The Murthe, however, believes that she controls the entire association."

"What?" cried Rhialto. "Does she take us so lightly?"

"No great matter." Lehuster held out the empty goblet. "If you please! A bird flies erratically on one wing. . . . Further, the Murthe appropriated all IOUN stones to her personal use—"

"Not so!" said Ildefonse with a chuckle. "We cleverly took them first."

"You seized a clutch of glass baubles. The Murthe took the true stones, including those owned by you and Rhialto, and left brummagem in their place."

Rhialto ran to the basket where the presumptive IOUN stones reposed. He groaned. "The mischievous vixen has robbed us in cold blood!"

Lehuster gestured to the sack he had tossed upon the couch. "On this occasion, we have bested her. Yonder are the stones! I seized them while she bathed. I suggest that you send a sandestin to replace them with the false stones. If you hurry, there is still time; the Murthe dallies at her toilette. Meanwhile hide the true stones in some extra-dimensional cubby-hole, so that they may not be taken from you again."