"I can," Henry Legion said. Maybe he really could; maybe he was just trying to scare me. But I was past being scared of - or by - phantoms, and didn't answer. After a couple of silent seconds, the spook took another tack: "Why should you believe any promise I make? I am of the Other Side, and have no soul to stake on an oath."

"Promise on your pride in your own wits and I'll believe you," I told him.

Another telephone pause. When it was done, Legion said,

"You're not the least clever mortal with whom I have dealt Let it be as you say. By my pride in my wits, Inspector Fisher, I shall tell you what I know in exchange for your information - on condition that the secret go no farther than you."

"Uh," I said. I couldn't think of a condition better calculated to make Judy want to wring my neck. "My fiancee is also involved in this case, and has been just about from the start. She knows about the threat of the Third Sorcerous War. I can't promise not to tell her, but she doesn't blab."

Henry Legion let out a long sigh. "Sexuality," he said, as if he were cursing. "Very well, Inspector Fisher, I agree to your proposed amendment, provided she agrees to tell no one.

Now speak, and withhold nothing."

So I spoke. I told him about Charlie Kelly, and about the bird Charlie kept being too coy to name. And I told him what Charlie had said about the risk of war - and about how Charlie had hung up on me and bugged out of his office.

"Ah, Mr. Kelly," the spook said. "Matters become less murky."

"Not to me, they don't," I told him.

"Although of low rank himself" (Charlie was several notches above me, but I let that go) "your Mr. Kelly is wellconnected politically," Henry Legion said. "He is the close friend and familiar - I use the word almost in the thaumaturgical sense - of a Cabinet subminister whose name I prefer not to divulge but who, I think, is like to be the source of his, ah, sensitive information. That matter can be - and shall be - rectified, I assure you."

I didn't care for the way he said rectified. I wondered if the anonymous Cabinet subminister was about to have the fear of an angry God put into him… or if he'd have to suffer what they call an unfortunate accident. But that; for me, was a side issue. I said, "I told you what I know. Now you keep your end of the bargain."

At that point, much too late, I wondered how I was supposed to make him keep the bargain if he didn't feel like it, But he said, "Perhaps this conversation would be better continued face to face rather than through the ether. You are on the seventh floor of the Westwood Confederal Building, is that not correct?"

"That's right," I agreed.

"Hang up the phone, then. I shall see you shortly."

I dutifully hung up. Sure enough, a couple of seconds later Henry Legion materialized in my office - or rather, the top half of him did: the floor cut him off at what would have been his belly button if spooks had belly buttons. The soundproofing in the Confederal Building is pretty good, but I heard the woman in the office right below me let out a starded squeal, so I presume Henry's legs end popped into being just below her ceiling.

The spook peered down at himself. He looked mistily annoyed, then said, "A three-foot error on a crosscountry journey isn't bad. It's not as if I were material." He sounded like someone trying to convince himself and not having much luck. He pulled himself up through the floor so his ectoplasmic wing-tips rested on the carpet.

It's a good thing he's not material, I thought. Two different sets of matter aren't designed to occupy the same space at the same time. The likeliest result of that would have been one big bang.

Once he was all in the room with me, his dignity recovered in a hurry. He draped himself over a chair, gave me a nod, and said, "By my pride in my own wits, David Fisher, I shall tell you what I can. Ask your questions."

His wits were still working pretty well, I noticed: if I didn't come up with the right questions, I wouldn't find out what I needed to know. Well, first things first - "Who's trying to loll me?"

Henry Legion's indistinct features distinctly frowned. "Without further information, I cannot answer that with any more assurance than you possess yourself. I realize it is of the essence to you, but I trust you will understand it is not my primary concern."

"Yeah," I said grudgingly. Understanding didn't mean I had to like it I tried something else; "If there is. God forbid, a Third Sorcerous War, who's going to be in it? And whose side will we be on?"

"God forbid indeed," the spook said. "As for who would begin the fighting if war came, again I cannot say with any certainty. The Confederation's place would depend on the patterns of other belligerents; as you may know, some of our alliance systems overlap others."

"As a matter of fact, I do know that" I was getting angry.

"I also know that I gave you straight answers and you're giving me the runaround. I don't call that a fair exchange." I didn't know what I could do about that, unfortunately. If Henry Legion didn't feel like answering questions, all he had to do was disappear and ignore my phone calls from then on out.

But he didn't disappear. He held up a transparent but placating hand. Before he could say anything, Rose tapped on the door, then opened it and stuck her nose into my office.

"I'm sorry, Dave," she said quickly. "I didn't realize you had someone in here." Then she got a good look at Henry Legion. Her eyes widened as she realized what sort of someone he was. But she dosed the door and went away anyhow.

Rose is a wonderful secretary.

"You were saying-" I prompted the spook.

"So I was," Henry Legion agreed. "I do apologize for appearing evasive, but the matter is more complex than most mortals, even those in high places, fully grasp. The turmoil that has marked this century - and that may yet precipitate the Third Sorcerous War - has roots that go back hundreds of years. It is an outcome of a fundamental shift in the balance of Powers that occurred with and as a result of the European expansion which began half a millennium ago." °I do follow you," I said. "Remember where you are: this is the EPA. One of the things I'm working on that has nothing to do with the toxic spell dump case is whether the Chumash Indian Powers have gone extinct in the past few years."

"This is a trivial example of the phenomenon to which I refer," the spook said. Towers have been reduced and displaced and others magnified on a scale unseen since the diminution and near-destruction of the Greco-Roman pagan deities and the rise of Christianity. And that impacted only Europe, North Africa, and western Asia; this is worldwide in scope. To give you some notion of what I mean, consider that Sarganatas and Nebiros, the one brigadier - major, the other field-marshal and inspector - general of the JudeoChristian Descending Hierarchy, have for several centuries made their residence here in the Americas."

"I grant that they're wickeder than Huitzilopochdi, but are they any nastier?" I asked. The Aztecian war-god wasn't evil in and of himself the way the demon princes were, but his proper food was blood. My stomach twisted when I thought about the flayed human skin in the potion Cuauhtemoc Hemandez had sold to Lupe Cordero.

But Henry Legion said, "That is not the point. The point is that Huitzilopochtii has been displaced, and naturally resents it. The same is true of most of the indigenous Powers of the Americas, of Polynesia, of Australia. The Muslim expansion through the Southern Isles has reduced the range of the Hindu Powers, who still have their enormous Indian belief base upon which to draw. Ukrainian and Spainish conquests, on the other hand, have cut into the sphere where jinni and ghouls and other Muslim Powers can roam at will.