Skogel, throwing back his head, laughed and slapped the counter. "That's more like it! Too many wrongdoers escape with whole skins and profit! Revenge!

There's the word! I wish you luck! Good modes, sir." And Skogel, turning his back, stalked stiff-legged back into the dimness of his shop. Efraim stared after him in wonder, but Lorcas signaled him to patience. Presently Skogel stalked forward. "And what do you require on this occasion?"

Lorcas said: "Do you recall your remarks of a week ago?"

"In regard to what?"

"Psychomorphosis."

"A large word," grumbled Skogel. "I spoke it at random."

"Would any of this apply to my friend?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

"And the source of this psychomorphosis?"

Skogel put his hands on the counter and leaning forward scrutinized Efraim with owlish intensity. "You are a Rhune?"

"What is your name?"

"I seem to be Efraim, Kaiark of Scharrode."

"Then you must be wealthy."

"I don't know whether I am or not."

"And you want the return of your memory?"

"Naturally."

"You have come to the wrong place. I deal in commodities of other sorts." Skogel slapped the counter and made as if to turn away again.

Lorcas said smoothly: "My friend insists that you at least accept a fee, or honorarium, for your advice."

"Fee? For words? For guesses and hypotheses? Do you take me for a man without shame?"

"Of course not!" declared Lorcas. "He only wants to learn where his memory went."

"Then this is my guess, and he may have it free of cost. He has eaten Fwai-chi shag." Skogel indicated the shelves, cases, and cabinets of his shop, which were stocked with bottles of every size and shape, crystallized. herbs, stoneware jugs, metal oddments, tins, phials, jars, and an unclassifiable miscellaneity of confusing scope. "I will reveal a truth," declared Skogel portentously. "Much of my merchandise, on a functional level, is totally ineffective. Psychically, symbolically, subliminally, the story is different! Each item exerts its own sullen strength, and sometimes I feel myself in the presence of elementals. With an infusion of spider grass, mixed perhaps with pulverized devil's eye, I achieve astounding results. The Benkenists, idiots and witlings as they are, aver that only the credulous are affected; they are wrong! Our organisms swim in a paracosmic fluid, which no one can comprehend; none of our senses find scope or purchase, so to speak. Only by operative procedures, which the Benkenists deride, can we manipulate this ineffable medium; and by so stating, am I therefore a charlatan?" Skogel slapped the counter with split-faced grin of triumph.

With delicate emphasis Lorcas inquired: "And what of the Fwai-chi?"

"Patience!" snapped Skogel. "Allow me my brief moment of vanity. After all, I do not veer too far astray."

"By all means," said Lorcas hastily. "Declaim to your heart's content."

Not altogether mollified, Skogel took up the thread of his remarks. "I have long speculated that the Fwai-chi interact with the paracosmos somewhat more readily than men, although they are a taciturn race and never explain their feats, or perhaps they take their multiplex environment for granted. In any event, they are a most peculiar and versatile race, which the Majar, at least, appreciate. I refer of course to that final. poor fragment of the race who live over the hill." Skogel looked truculently from Lorcas to Efraim, but neither challenged his opinion.

Skogel continued. "A certain shaman of the Majars fancies to consider himself in my debt, and not too long ago he invited me to Atabus to witness an execution.

My friend explained an innovation in Majar justice: the suspect, or the adjudged

- among the Majars the distinction is slight - is dosed with Fwai-chi shag, and his reactions, which range from torpor through hallucination, antics, convulsions, frantic feats of Agility, to instant death, are noted. The Majar are nothing but a pragmatic folk; they take a lively interest in the capabilities of the human organism, and consider themselves great scientists. In my presence they administered a golden-brown gum from dorsal Fwai-chi shags, and the suspect at once fancied himself four different persons who conducted a vivacious conversation among themselves and the onlookers, employing a single tongue and larynx to produce two and sometimes three voices simultaneously. My host described some of the other effects he had witnessed, and mentioned a certain shag whose exudation blotted away human memory. I therefore suggest that your friend has been dosed with Fwai-chi shag." He peered from one to the other, showing a small trembling smile of triumph. "And that, in short, is my opinion."

"All very well," said Lorcas, "but how is my friend to be cured?"

Skogel made a careless gesture. "No cure is known, for the reason that none exists. What is gone, is gone."

Lorcas looked ruefully at Efraim. "So there you have it. Someone dosed you with Fwai-chi shag."

"I wonder who," said Efraim. "I wonder who."

Lorcas turned to speak to Skogel, but the shopkeeper had disappeared into the dim chamber at the rear of his establishment.

Lorcas and Efraim returned along the Street of the Clever Flea to the Estrada, Efraim pensive and grim. Lorcas, after darting half a dozen glances toward his companion, could no longer contain his curiosity. "So now what will you do?"

"What must be done."

Ten paces later Lorcas said: "You evidently have no fear of death."

Efraim shrugged.

Lorcas asked: "How will you achieve this business?"

"I must return to Scharrode," said Efraim. "Is there any other way? My enemy is someone I know well; would I drink with a stranger? In Port Mar were the following persons: Kaiark Jochaim, who is dead, the Kraike Singhalissa, the Kang Destian, the Lissolet Sthelany. Then, from Eccord, the Kaiark Rianlle, the Kraike Dervas, and the Lissolet Maerio. And, conceivably, Matho Lorcas, except in this case, why would you take me to Skogel7"

"Precisely so," said Lorcas. "On that distant occasion I dosed you only with good wine from which you took no harm."

"And you saw nothing significant, nothing suspicious, nothing dire?"

Lorcas reflected. "I noticed nothing overt. I felt stifled passion and flows of emotion, but where they led I could not divine. To be candid, I expected strange personalities among the Rhunes, and I made no attempt to understand what I saw.

Without a memory you will also be handicapped."

"Very likely. But now I am Kaiark and everyone must go at my pace. I can recover my memory at leisure. What is the best transportation to Scharrode?"

"There's no choice," said Lorcas. "You hire an aircar and fly out." He looked casually up into the sky, which Cirse was about to depart. "If you permit, I will accompany you."

"What is your interest in the affair?" asked Efraim suspiciously.

Lorcas responded with an airy gesture. "I have long wished to visit the Realms.

The Rhunes are a fascinating people and I am anxious to learn more about them.

And, if the truth be known, I am anxious to pursue one or two acquaintances."

"You might not enjoy your visit. I am Kaiark, but I have enemies and they might not distinguish between us."

"I rely upon the notorious Rhune revulsion against violent conduct, which they abandon only during their incessant wars. And who knows? You might find a companion useful."

"Perhaps. Who is this acquaintance whom you are anxious to cultivate? The Lissolet Sthelany?"

Lorcas nodded glumly. "She is an intriguing young woman; in fact, I will go so far as to say that she represents a challenge. As a rule, pretty ladies find me sympathetic, but the Lissolet Sthelany barely notices my existence."