And the horror that was Alemania two generations ago shows Christendom isn't immune to theological disaster, either."

"What you're telling me is that the whole world is going to hell," I said slowly. I wondered whether I was exaggerating for conversational effect or being perfectly literal.

"Central Intelligence prognostications put the probability of that outcome as less than ten percent in the next decade,"

Henry Legion said, his voice inhumanly calm. "A year ago, however, that same probability was assessed at less than three percent. Whether fully Judeo-Christian or not, Inspector Fisher, trouble is brewing beneath the orderly surface of our existence."

Since I'd had the door closed all morning, my office was warm and rather stuffy. I shivered even so. "Okay," I said.

"There's trouble. What does it have to do with the Devonshire toxic spell dump?"

"As for a precise answer, I can only speculate," Henry Legion replied. "But consider this: the spell residues stored at that site are the worst and most potent yet devised. If they are lealdng into the wider environment, they draw attention to the dump. That attention is liable to be extremely unwelcome if something undocumented but deadly is being disposed of at the Devonshire dump."

All at once, I remembered the Nothing I'd seen walking the path from the dump entrance to Tony Sudalds' office. I never had got around to asking him what that was. I hadn't called him Tuesday, either - too many other things going on.

"Have you any further questions?" Henry Legion asked.

"Yeah, I do," I said. "Okay, you don't know for sure which Powers or humans might touch off the Third Sorcerous War.

You must have suspects, though. Isn't that what Central Intelligence is for - to be suspicious?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," the spook answered. "Suspects, you say? In order of probability, they are Persia, Azteda, the Ukraine, and India."

That didn't help me much. Some sort of Persian connection seemed the most likely cause of trouble at the Devonshire dump, too, at least judgtog by what had happened to Erasmus, while I couldn't rule out the Aztecans, either, not with Huitzilopochdism on the loose and the trail that had led me to poor soulless Jesus Cordero.

For that matter, I couldn't rule out the Powers of India, either, which meant Loki and the other aerospace firms were still suspects. Along with the cow, Erasmus had been tormented by sorcerous serpents, and the Garuda Bird is a great foe of such.

Complications, complications… I remembered that other serpent I'd seen, the one in the Garden of virtuous reality who hadn't had to crawl around on his belly. If the model for that serpent had behaved himself better, the world would be a more peaceful place today.

I said, "What you're telling me is that you don't know who's trying to kill me or who wants to start the war, but you want to use me to help you find out"

"In essence, yes," Henry Legion said. "Keeping you alive while the investigation proceeds would also be desirable,"

To me even more than to you," I assured him. The situation reminded me of an old riddle: how do you know when there are pixies around? The answer is, when you get pixilated. I never had found that riddle very funny. It was a lot less so now, when it was more like finding out who was trying to IdB me by what happened when they did it Someone tapped on the door, then opened it Rose again.

She said quietly, "When I saw you hadan important guest, David, I arranged for my phone imp to cover yours. Here's a message for you." Nodding as politely to Henry Legion as if she couldn't see through him, she went back outside again.

The spook said, "We here at Central Intelligence - and at other nations' equivalent services, I assure you - are generally less than delighted when an amateur like yourself gets stuck between the lines of the cantrip, so to speak: not only because of the danger to which you are exposed but also on account of your unpredictability, which may set off other unpredictable acts at a juncture when unpredictable acts have the potential to bring on what may for all practical purposes be Armageddon."

If Henry Legion had been a human being, he couldn't possible have said all that on one breath. As it was, Charlie Kelly had in essence told me the same thing. But Charlie had bugged out on me, while the CI spook was still on my side - I hoped.

"What do you suggest I do next?" I asked him.

"Cany on with your life and work as normally as you can," he answered. "If fate is kind-always an interesting question - you will eventually be able to work your way out of the center of interest you now occupy."

"And if fate isn't?" I said. A human being, even one who worked for Central Intelligence, probably would have given me a soothing answer back. Henry Legion didn't. "If fate is unload, Inspector Fisher, you will be killed. If fate is very unkind, the world will go with you. As I said before, the balance of Powers has been upset for a long time. Megasalamanders may be the least we have to worry about"

That much pessimism rocked me. "But a megasalamander can slag a whole city-" I felt absurd the second the words were out of my mouth. Was I bragging of how destructive our ultimate weapons were or complaining they weren't destructive enough?

"Yes, Inspector Legion, but although megasalamanders are of the Other Side, the devastation they create is confined to the material," Henry Legion said implacably. "Further, they do not launch themselves, but travel when and were ordered by the mages who control them. If the Powers seek to redress the balance on their own-"

He dematerialized then, leaving me an empty office and cold dread in my middle. That's the trouble about arguing with a spook: if he wants it, he can have the last word.

This time, though, I think he would have had it even if he'd stayed around.

I thought about what he'd just said. Suppose all the Powers that had seen their domains shrink over the past five hundred years or so got together and struck back at the Ones that had dispossessed them. A man mad for revenge is liable to take it no matter what ft costs him and those he loves. If the Powers acted the same way, then heaven help the people over a big part of the globe… except it would more likely be hell on earth.

No wonder Henry Legion couldn't work up much concern about whether I individually lived or died. In a way, it didn't seem that important to me any more, either. But only in a way.

I stared down at my desk, trying to get back from contemplating Armageddon to doing my job. My eye fell on the note Rose had come in to give me. The message, I saw, was from Legate Kawaguchi. It said, in its entirety, "The feather is from a specimen of PHAROMACHRUS MOCINNO." It was written just like that; Rose had printed the formal name in block capitals so I couldn't possible misread it Undoubtedly she'd had Kawaguchi give it to her letter by letter so she wouldn't get it wrong, too. Rose is a queen among secretaries.

Only one trouble: I hadn't the slightest notion what a Pharomachrus mocinno was. I called Kawaguchi back, but I didn't get him. He'd gone into the field - something horrible and gruesome had just broken. The centurion who took my call sounded so harassed that I didn't have the nerve to ask him whether he knew what land of bird Kawaguchi had meant I went and checked our own reference library: not all environmental issues involve the Other Side. We had books about birds that dwell in the Barony of Angels. Pharomachrus mocinno wasn't one. A little information, but not much. I made a mental note to ask Kawaguchi about it the next time I talked with him, then went back to work.

A good rule I've developed and don't follow enough is when in doubt, make a list. Writing things down forces you to think about what's important to you. It works so well, it's almost magic. The first writing, I suspect, really was magic - vaasfc against forgetting. It still serves that role if you give it half a chance.