"You're sure," I admitted. "But that's crazy. Michael Manstein - he runs the sorcery lab here - and I went around the Devonshire dump yesterday, and we found no trace of Aztedan sorcery leaking. He even tested with flayed human skin substitute for Huitzhopochtiism."

"I have told you what I know," Kawaguchi said. The possibility remains that the feather was somehow altered in its translation from virtuous reality into our own merely mundane space and time; as I noted at the time, if would not be accepted as evidence in a court of law. Another alternative is that the feather is indeed derived from a quetzal, but was deliberately placed within range of the scriptorium spirit Erasmus' sensorium for the purpose of misleading us."

"Yeah," I said. "Or it might be real - whatever that means in connection with something out of virtuous reality."

"Exactly so," Kawaguchi said. "Ockham's Razor argues for that interpretation, although the others cannot be ignored."

I shave my data with Ockham's Razor, too; it's the most practical tool to use in preparing baseline data for projections and such. But, like any other razor, it will cut you if you're not careful with it "Thanks for the information, Legate Kawaguchi," I said.

"Would you do me one more favor, please. Would you call a spook named Henry Legion at Central Intelligence back in D.StC."- I gave him the number - "and tell him what you've just told me? It's something he needs to know, believe me. Use my name; it'll help you get through to him."

"I shall do as you suggest," Kawaguchi answered slowly.

"The implications, however, are - troubling."

"I know." When I'd first heard Charlie Kelly reluctantly admit the possibility of the Third Sorcerous War, it chilled me for days. Now, as far as I was concerned, it was old news.

Judy bulked ever so much larger in my thoughts. I couldn't worry about the whole world going up in smoke; that's too much for any mere man to take in. But when some damned - I hope - bastard kidnaps the woman you love, you understand that real well. Kawaguchi and I said our goodbyes. He promised again that he would call Henry Legion. Me, I called Loki, and eventually got connected to Matt Arnold. "I just got off the phone with Legate Kawaguchi of the ACCD," I told him.

"He said you had a break-in and some vandalism on the Garuda Bird project."

"That's right," he answered. "One of our people was critically injured, too."

"Kawaguchi didn't say anything about that," I said. "What happened?"

"He was bitten by a snake." Even over the phone, I could hear Arnold's voice turn grim. "Some dever sorcerer found a way to beat a hermetic seal. Did the constable tell you about that?"

"He mentioned that it had been done, but not how," I answered. "You sound like you know." "I do, yes," Arnold said. "There'll be some sleepless nights up in Crystal Valley until they can bring their sorceware up to date."

"You don't need a crystal ball to predict that," I agreed.

"How was it done? Everyone's always claimed hermetic seals are proof against just about anything." I heard the silence that meant he didn't want to tell me. Quickly, I added,

"Remember, I have a professional interest in this. Any magic that can beat such a powerful seal has to have serious consequences for the environment."

"All right," he said grudgingly. "I guess I can see that. But don't go spreading the word to all and sundry, you understand?"

"I'm not a reporter or a newsman for the ethemet," I replied with dignity.

"Okay," he said. "What happened was, the bastards used one of Hermes' own attributes to break the seals he was supposed to oversee. It was a very clever application of the law of similarity, I'll say; I wish whoever came up with it would have put as much energy into something legitimate."

"Go on," I said.

"The snakebite has something to do with it"

He paused again. I realized I was supposed to figure out why. Some other morning, I might have enjoyed playing intellectual games. That particular day, I just didn't have it.

"I'm sorry; I must be dense," I said - my troubles weren't any of his business. "Can you explain it for me?"

A sniff conveyed across the ether by two phone imps carries an impressive weight of scorn. Matt Arnold said, "Think about the kerykeion Hermes carries."

"The what?"

He made another impatient noise. As far as I was concerned, lucky for him he was at the far end of a phone connection. The EPA doesn't have the money - or the secrets - to get hermetic seals, so I had no reason to be familiar with the minutiae of Hermes' cult Maybe he realized that, or maybe he just wanted to get me off the phone so he could go back to whatever he'd been doing before I called. He said,

"The Latin term for the kerykeion - not really proper, you know, for talking about a Greek Power - is the caducous."

That I did understand. "The staff with the…" My voice trailed away. "Snakes," I said in an altogether different tone of voice. "No wonder you said the bite had something to do with it."

"That's right," he said, as if there might be some hope for me after all. They used the affinity of all snakes to the ones of the caduceus to weaken the seal and let them get into our secure areas."

"Sneaky." I added, "I hope you told Legate Kawaguchi about that. If one set of bad guys figures out a stunt, everybody will be using it two weeks later." Then something else occurred to me. "How did your vandals get to the hermetically sealed areas, anyhow? You had some tough-looking guards out front when I was there."

They got lulled to sleep." Arnold sounded as if he didn't like to admit that "Some land of spell or other - Kawaguchi's forensics people haven't got back to me with the data."

Excitement ran through me: it sounded a lot like the way Judy's kidnappers had operated. I wrote that down so I wouldn't forget it, and promised myself I'd call Plainclothesman Johnson as soon as I was off the phone with Arnold.

While I still had him on the ether, though, I asked, "What land of snake bit your man?"

"It was a fer-de-lance," Arnold answered. "Nasty thing - the venom makes you bleed internally as if you had a vampire gnawing you from the inside out Lucky it's a relative of our local rattlesnakes; the antivenin spells for the one were efficacious enough - we hope - against the other. Like I told you, Jerry's still on the critical list, but they think he'll pull through."

"I'm glad to hear it," I said. "But why a fer-de-lance in the first place? Why not use our rattlers?"

"For one thing, it's more poisonous, if that's what the bastards were after. And for another, if the sorcerers were Aztecians, they'd be more familiar with their native serpents than ours."

"And if they weren't, they could throw suspicion on Azteca by planting snakes native to that realm." I was thinking about the quetzal feather. 'HI now, I'd suspected the Persians more than anyone else. I wondered if I'd have to change my mind. I also remembered Persians' deviousness; if they could hide their schemes by implicating someone else, they'd do it. And I remembered I still hadn't visited Chocolate Weasel.

Matt Arnold said, "Forensics ought to let us know before too long."

"I hope so," I said. "Thanks for your time."

"I've already wasted so much on this miserable business, a little more doesn't matter now." With that encouraging word, Arnold hung up on me.

I called Johnson. When he answered, my ear imp yelled into my ear, so I suppose he was yelling at his mouth imp:

"Did the kidnappers call you? Or your fiancee?"

"I'm sorry, no." How sorry I was! I explained what I'd heard from Matt Arnold, then asked, "Has your forensics man been able to identify the sleep spell that was cast in Judy's flat?"

"Hold on," he said. "That's in my notes - I saw it. Let me look." The imps reproduced the noise of shuffling parchments. Then I heard Johnson say, "Yeah, here it is," more as if to himself than to me. After a few more seconds, he must have put the handset up to his mouth again, because his voice came back loud and clear: I've got it, Mr. Fisher. Forensics says it's an Aztecian spell, summoning the Power named the One Called Night, the one from the Nine Beyonds, to cast sleep on the victim. There's a note here that it's not generally used with good intent. I'm sorry to have to tell you that, sir."