of spiced wine.

On the landing stage of the Sector-Regional Headquarters at Novilan
Equivalent, four or five people were waiting for them. Vall recognized
the subchief, Vulthor Tharn, who introduced another man, in riding
boots and a white cloak, as Skordran Kirv. Vall clasped hands with him
warmly.

"Good work, Agent Skordran. You got onto this promptly."

"I tried to, sir. Do you want the dope now? We have half an hour's
flight to our spatial equivalent, and another half hour in
transposition."

"Give it to me on the way," he said, and turned to Vulthor Tharn.
"Our Esaron costumes ready?"

"Yes. Over there in the control tower. We have a temporary conveyer
head set up about two hundred miles south of here, which will take you
straight through to the plantation."

"Suppose you change now, Dalla," he said. "Subchief, I'd like a word
with you privately."

He and Vulthor Tharn excused themselves and walked over to the edge of
the landing stage. The SecReg Subchief was outwardly composed, but
Vall sensed that he was worried and embarrassed.

"Now, what's been done since you got Agent Skordran's report?" Vall
asked.