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"I don't know, Quilly. The lab assistants say she left with the mortic people who removed the body."

"And why are you worried about her?"

Aubretia hesitated. The blue gin was beginning to seep into her brain and coherent thought was becoming difficult. "I think it was the way the Mistress of Information talked, about the need for secrecy, and so on. You know what Gallardia is like; she couldn't keep a secret for more than ten seconds."

Aquilegia smiled without moving her lips. "I don't think you need worry about her," she said quietly. "You will not see her again, but she will be well and safe."

Aubretia regarded her companion questioningly, noting subconsciously the unexpected manifestation of hard poise beneath the sweetness of her form and coloring.

"The Department of the Written Word is closely associated with the Department of Social Stability. They have a common policy on matters that affect the P.A.S.," Aquilegia added.

"P.A.S.?"

"Parthenogenetic Adaptation Syndrome."

"What has that to do with Gallardia?"

Aquilegia spread out her hands noncommittally. "Very little, really. She has certain information that could, conceivably, conflict with the syndrome if it were spread around. The information must be erased." A pause while she sipped her drink, watching Aubretia with expressionless pink eyes. "Don't be alarmed, darling. Gallardia will come to no harm. It is a mere matter of what we might call hynotic technique, a slight remodelling of the cerebral memory tracks by induced suggestion. Afterwards she will remember nothing of the man. She will almost certainly be transferred to another laboratory in a remote part of the country."

Aubretia stood up slowly, holding her glass, and leaned against the low railing of the verandah. The cavernous streets of the city yawned eighteen storys below, but her eyes were