"It's the context," he told the security awareness poster. "Knowing what they're talking about is as important as knowing what they're saying." He waved his hands widely, taking in the expanse of his empire-the desk, the chair, the walls-and declaimed, "Half of what gets said in any committee meeting doesn't get expressed verbally, it's all body language and gestures and who's making eye contact with whom. Jesus." He looked at the box of tapes disgustedly. "Maybe these would be some use to a secretary who sat in on the meeting, fodder for the minutes…"

His eyes widened as he remembered lying on the floor in an empty office, Matthias-source GREENSLEEVES-standing over him with a gun: "If you'd gone after the Clan as a police operation, that would have given the thin white duke something more urgent to worry about than a missing secretary, no?"

Jesus. He stared at the tapes in surprise. Matthias was their boss man's-the thin white duke's-secretary, wasn't he? These are probably his transcripts. Not that he'd recognized the defector's voice-it had been months since he'd died, and Matt's voice wasn't distinctive enough to draw his attention, not on an elderly tape recording of a meeting-but the implications… GREENSLEEVES didn't bring any tapes with him when he defected, so how did these get here? So we have a spy in the Clan's security apparatus, high enough up to get us these tapes. I wonder who they are? And what else they've brought over?…

In a shack attached to the stables at the back of Helge's temporary palace, a man in combat fatigues sat on a swivel chair and contemplated failure.

"It's not working," he complained, and rubbed his aching forehead. "What am I doing wrong, bro?"

"Patience." Huw carried on typing notes on a laptop perched precariously on one knee.

This experiment was Helge's idea. "The first time I world-walked I was sitting down," she'd told him. "That's not supposed to be possible, is it? And then, later, I"-a shadow crossed her face-"I was brought across. In a wheelchair." Her frown deepened. "There's stuff we've been lied to about, Huw. I don't know whether it's from ignorance or deliberate, but we ought to find out, don't you think?"

Angbard had said get to the bottom of it, and while the duke was hors de combat, Huw was more than happy to keep on following the same line of inquiry for Helge. "Okay, that's test number four. Let's try out the next set of casters. You want to stand up while I fit them?"

"Yah." Yul stood, then picked up the chair, inverted it, and planted it on the workbench.

Huw put down the laptop then went to work on the upturned chair's wheels with a multi-tool, worrying them until they came loose. He pulled another set of feet from a box and began installing them. "This set should work better, if I'm right," he explained as he worked. "High density polyethylene is a very good insulator, and they're hard-reducing the contact area with the ground."

"What about the mat?" asked Yul.

"That, too. We'll try that first: you, me, then Elena. Then without the mat."

"You think the mat has something to do with it?"

"I'm not sure." Huw straightened up. "She world-walked in an office chair. We don't do that because it never occurred to anyone. They tried wheelbarrows, and on horseback, back in the day. Even a carriage plus four. All we know is that nobody world-walks in a vehicle, because when they tried to do it, it didn't work. But we do it on foot, wearing shoes or boots. So what's going on? What's different about boots and wheels?"

"Horses weigh a lot," Yul pointed out. "So do wooden barrows, or carriages."

"Yes, but." Huw reached for a mallet and a wooden dowel, lined them up carefully, and gave a recalcitrant caster a whack. "We don't know. There are other explanations, like: Most shoes are made to be waterproof, yes? Which makes them nonconductive. Whereas anyone who tried horses would have used one that was properly shod… I just want to try again, from first principles."

"Why not get Rudi to try it in midair?" asked Yul.

Huw snorted. "Would you like to give yourself a world-walker's head in midair, while trying to fly a plane? And what if it works but doesn't take the plane with the pilot?"

"Oh." Yul looked thoughtful. "Could he try it in a balloon? With a parachute, set up to unfold immediately if he fell? Or maybe a passenger to do the world-walking?"

Huw stopped dead. "That's a good idea. Hold this." He passed the chair to his brother while he opened up the laptop again and hastily tapped out a note. "You volunteering?"

"What, me? No! I can't skydive! I get dizzy wearing platform soles!"

"Just asking." Huw shut the laptop again. "Whoever does it, that intrepid adventurer, they'll get lots of attention from the ladies."

"You think?" Yul brightened slightly.

"Absolutely," Huw said blandly. Especially from her majesty, but best not to swell Yul's head. "Hand me that test meter then get the carpet protector…"

It was, he figured, a matter of getting the conditions right.

"There are a couple of possibilities," he'd told Helge earlier in the morning, when she'd appeared in the stables, unannounced and unexpected, just like any other country squire's wife making her daily rounds of the estate. "It could be the exclusion effect." It was well known that you couldn't world-walk if there was a solid object in the way in the destination world. "What if the ground pressure of feet or shoes doesn't set up a potential interpenetration, but wheels do? There's a smaller contact area, after all."

"Can women world-walk in stiletto heels?" Helge had thrown back at him, looking half-amused.

"What? Have you-"

"I've never tried. I'm not good in heels, and world-walking in them isn't something I'd do deliberately." She paused. "But it's one for your list, isn't it?"

"I'll do that," he agreed. "Would you like to sit in on the experiment today? You might spot something I wouldn't…"

"I wish I could." A pained expression crept across her face. "They're keeping me busy, Huw, lots of protocol crap and meetings with tedious fools I can't afford not to be nice to. In fact, I'd better be going now-otherwise I'll be late for this morning's first appointment. I think I've got an hour free before dinner, maybe you could fill me in on the day's progress then?"

He'd asked Lady d'Ost about the stiletto thing over lunch: The answer turned out to be "yes-but if you're drunk you'll likely twist an ankle, so you take your shoes off first."

As for the chair and the matters in hand… "I'm seeing no conductivity at all," Huw muttered. "Good insulators." Bare feet were insulators, too, of course, albeit not that good, and damp leather shoes were piss-poor, but dry rubber-soled boots or bare feet didn't seem to make any difference to world-walking. "Okay, you want to try these?"

"Alright." Yul sighed and tugged the chair onto the middle of the plastic carpet-protector mat. "I'm getting tired, though, bro." He sat down and glanced at the back of his left wrist.

Huw looked at the floor. "Hey, you're off the target-"

He stopped. Yul, and the chair, had disappeared.

"Shit." Elena will fucking kill me, he thought incoherently. He slid a foot forward, then stopped. Opening the laptop again, he tapped out a quick note. Then he stood on the correct spot-not a foot to one side, where Yul had been-and looked at the knotwork he carried on a laminated badge, ready to world-walk.

The headache was sudden and harsh, a classic interpenetration blast. "Ow." He's moving about. Huw swore a bit more, then went and stood precisely where Yul had put the chair, and tried again.

The walls of the shack vanished, replaced by trees and sunlight and a warm summer breeze. Huw staggered, jostling Yul, who spun round with pistol drawn. "Joker's bane, bro! Don't do that!"