“Hive-reports. Stacks of them. Statistics. She may be aiming something at Thon. I don’t know. I can’t determine.”

The elder looked about at Tand, his heart labouring with the heavy persistence of dread. Tand was outside the informed circles of the movement. There were many things of which Tand remained ignorant: must. Where Tand stood, it was not good that he know…near as he was to the old woman’s hand. If the blow fell, all that he knew could be in Moth’s hands in hours. “What kind of statistics? Involving azi?”

“Among others. She’s asking for more data on Istra. She’s…amused by the Meth-maren. So she gives out. But here’s the matter: she muttered something after the committee left. About the Meth-maren serving her interests…conscious or unconscious on the Meth-maren’s part, I don’t know. I asked her flatly was the Meth-maren her agent. She denied it and then hedged with that.”

The Hald dropped the dry petals, his pulse no calmer. “The Meth-maren is becoming a persistent irritant.”

“Another attempt on her—might be advisable.”

The Hald pulled off a frond. Others furled tightly, remained so, twice offended. He began to strip the soft part off the skeleton of the veins. It left a sharp smell in the air. “Tand, go back to the Old Hall. You shouldn’t stay here tonight”

“Now?”

“Now.”

One of Tand’s virtues was his adaptability. The Hald pulled another frond and stripped it, trusting that there would not be the least hesitation in Tand, from the garden walk to the front gate to the City. He heard him walk away, a door close.

His steps would be covered, cloaked in innocence…a supposed venture in the City; and back to Alpha, and Old Hall. There were those who would readily lie for him.

The Hald wiped his hand and walked the other path, up to other levels of the Held residence at Ahlvillon, to east-wing, to other resources.

A pattern was shaping.

On Istra…things had long been safe from Council inspection. Communications had been carefully channelled through Meron, screened thoroughly before transmission farther.

He walked the balls of panelling and stone, into the shielded area of the house comp, leaned above it and sent a message that consisted of banalities. There was no acknowledgement at the other end.

But three hours later, a little late for callers, an aircraft see down on the Hald grounds, ruffling the waters of the ornamental pond.

The Hald went out to meet it, and walked arm in arm with the man who had come in, paused by the pool in the dark, fed the sleepy old mudsnake which denned there. It gulped down bits of bread, being the omnivore it was, its double-hinged jaws opening and clamping again into a fat sullenness.

“Nigh as old as the house,” the Hald said of it.

Arl Ren-barant stood with folded arms. The Hald stood up and the mudsnake snapped, then levered itself off the bank and eased into the black waters, making a little wake as it curled away.

“Some old business,” said the Hald, “has surfaced again. I’m beginning to think it never left at all. We’ve been very careless in yielding to Eldest’s wishes in this ease. I’m less and less convinced it’s a matter of whim with her.”

“The Meth-maren?” Ren-barant frowned and shook his head. “Not so easy to do it now. She’s completely random, a nuisance. If it were really worth the risk—”

The Hald looked at him sharply. “Random. So what happened on Meron?”

“A personal quarrel, left over from the first attempt. Gen and Hal have become a cause with the Ilits. It was unfortunate.”

“And on Kalind.”

“Hive-matter, but she wasn’t in it. Blues have settled again. Reds seem to be content enough.”

“Yes. The Meth-maren’s gone. Meron’s damaged and Kalind isn’t unscathed. Attention rests where it doesn’t suit us. The old hive-master’s talent… Arl, we have an enemy. A very dangerous one.”

“She hardly made a secret of her going to Istra. Why make so much commotion of it, if she’s not as mad as we’ve reckoned? A private ship could have reached there in a direct jump. She could have had time to work…”

“The whole Council noticed, didn’t they? It was bizarre enough that it caught the curiosity of the whole Council. Attention focused where we don’t need it focused at all.”

Ren-barant’s face was stark, his arms tightly clenched. “Cold sane, you think.”

“As you and I are. As Moth is. I have news, Art. There was a majat on that liner when it left Kalind. We haven’t discovered yet how far it went, whether all the way with her or whether it got off earlier.”

“Blue messenger?”

“We don’t know yet. Blue or green is a good bet.”

Ren-barant swore. “Thon was supposed to have that cut off.”

“Majat paid the passage,” the Hald said. “Betas can’t tell them apart. The Meth-maren boarded at the last moment…special shuttle, a great deal of noise about it. We knew about her very quickly. Use of her credit was obvious, at least the size of the transaction and the recipient, which was Andra Lines, through one of their sub-agents. But the majat paid in jewels, cash transaction, freighted up dormant and inconspicuous…a special payment to someone, I’ll warrant. Cash. No direct record to our banks. No tracing. We still can’t be sure how much was actually paid: probably a great deal went into the left hand while the right was making records; but the Meth-maren was right there, using vast amounts of credit, very visible. We didn’t find out about the majat until our agents started asking questions among departing passengers. Betas won’t volunteer that kind of gossip. But the whole operation, that a hive could bypass our surveillance and do it so completely, so long—”

“The Thons do nothing. Maybe we’d better ask some questions about the quality of that support.”

“She’s Meth-maren; the Then hive-masters have no influence with the blues. And Council can vote Thon the post; they can’t make them competent in it. Anyone can handle reds. The test is whether Thon can control the blues. I think Thon is beyond the level of their competency, for all their assurances to us. The Meth-maren’s running escort for majat; she outwitted Thon, and she’s made Council look toward Istra. The old woman, Arl, the old woman is collecting statistics; she’s taking interest again; there’s a chance she’s taken interest for longer than we’ve known.”

The Ren-barant hissed softly between his teeth.

“There’s more,” the Hald said. “The old woman dropped a word about the Meth-maren being— useful. Useful. And that with her sudden preoccupation with statistics. Istran statistics, The Pedra bill is coming up. We’d better be ready, before the old woman hits us with a public surprise. Istra’s vulnerable.”

“Someone had better get out there, then.”

“I’ve moved on that days ago.” And at the Ren-barant’s sudden, apprehensive stare. “ Thatmatter is on its way to being solved. It’s not the Meth-maren I’m talking about.”

“Yes,” the Ren-barant said after a moment. “I can see that”

“Tand’s next to her. He stays, no breath of doubt near him. The organisation has to be firmed up, made ready on the instant. You know the program. You know the contacts. I put it on you. I daren’t. I’ve gone as far as I can.”

The Ren-barant nodded grimly. They began to part company. Suddenly the Ren-barant stopped in his tracks and looked back. “There’s more than one way for Moth to use the Meth-maren. To provoke enemies into following the wrong lead.”

Ros Hald stared at him, finally nodded. It was the kind of convolution of which Moth had long proved capable. “We’ve counted on time to take care of our problems. That’s been a very serious mistake. Both of them have to be cared for—simultaneously.”

The mudsnake surfaced again, hopeful. The Hald tossed it the rest of the morsel: sullen jaws snapped. It waited for more. None came. It slipped away again under the black waters and rippled away.