"Not at all! I am never irrelevant, nor yet trivial."

Osherl produced a heavy moaning curse. "During this epoch, it is an inland arm of the Accic Ocean: the Santune Sea. During the 17th Aeon, a land-bridge rises across the Straits of Garch; the sea slowly dries and becomes extinct. During the last epoch of the 17th Aeon the old sea-bed is known as the Tchaxmatar Steppe. In the second epoch of the 18th Aeon, Baltanque of the Tall Towers rises five miles to the north of our present station, and persists until its capture by Isil Skilte the archveult. Later in the 18th Aeon the sea returns. I hope that your sudden fascination with Middle-Earth geography has been satiated?"

"Quite so," said Rhialto. "I now issue the following orders, which must be implemented in most minute detail. Without stirring from your position, you will transfer me and my subaltern, Shalukhe the Swimmer, to a convenient moment during the latter 17th Aeon when the bed of the erstwhile Santune Sea is dry and ready to be searched for the Perciplex.

"Meanwhile you are explicitly ordered not to move from your present anchorage by so much as one inch, nor may you appoint substitute guardians, specifically and particularly Sarsem, to maintain the vigil while you deal with other business."

Osherl set up a weird moaning sound, which Rhialto ignored. "The Perciplex is under your foot at this moment; if it is not there when we return in the 17th Aeon, there can be only one party at fault: yourself. Therefore, guard well, with all obduracy. Allow neither Sarsem nor Hache-Moncour, nor any other, to hoodwink you and seduce you from your duty!

"We are now disposed to the transfer. Let there be no errors! The recovery of the true and original Perciplex, and its delivery to me, has become your responsibility! Many, many indenture points ride on the outcome of your work! So then: to the 17th Aeon!"

15

The pavilion now stood in the blaze of geranium-red sunlight. The sky was clear of clouds and overcast; the air felt warm, dry and carried a smoky-tart odor exhaled by a low-growing black bush. To the west the gleam of the retreating Santune Sea was yet visible, with a village of white cottages among low trees a half-mile away. In other directions the steppe spread away over the horizon.

At a distance of a hundred feet stood a small white cottage, with a massive black shairo tree rising high to each side. On the porch sat Osherl, in the guise of a low-caste vagabond, or lack-wit with blinking eyes, sandy hair and upper teeth hanging foolishly over a receding chin. Osherl wore a soiled grown of coarse white cloth and a low flap-brimmed hat.

Taking note of Rhialto, Osherl waved a limp-fingered hand. ' 'Ah Rhialto! After so long a vigil, even your face is welcome!"

Rhialto responded in a manner somewhat more cool. He surveyed the cottage. "You seem to have made yourself thoroughly comfortable. I hope that, in your ease, you have not neglected the security of the Perciplex?"