"By no means, fellow. You are now at Prime, impelled here by our irresistible Come Hither device. Now it remains merely to assess the full impact of your guilt, so as equitably to assign penance." He turned on his heel and strode away, shied violently as the uncouth figure of Sheriff 'Hoppy' Tode materialized in his path. The two musclemen released Lafayette's arms and leapt to their chief's side.
"It's an invasion!" Clyde barked. "I've been expecting this! Archie, sound the alarm!" He thrust the smaller of the two guards toward the door as the other put a hammerlock on Tode, who struggled to no avail. The .44 was back in its holster. He pointed a shaky finger at O'Leary.
"That man's my prizner!" he yelled. "Hadda shoot him, and he up and vanished. I ain't had a drop! Turned into smoke and went out, sure as I'm standing here ..." He paused; looking puzzled. "But am I standing here? Whereat am I anyways?"
"Where am I," Lafayette corrected sharply. "I told you before. And. 'anyway', without the s, is modern Artesian usage."
"How do I know where you're at, boy?" Tode shouted toward O'Leary. "I don't know where I'm at my ownself! Now," he went on in a carefully controlled tone, addressing Clyde:
"You look like a responsible individual, sir. So I hope you can see you got no call to sic these here fellers onto me, which I'm a duly elected peace officer. This here feller"—he nodded toward O'Leary—"he's the one you want. Only I got first call; had him right in my jail and he snuck out and—and after that it gets kindy hazy. But I'm still shurf and he's still my prizner."
"I fear Prime's jurisdiction overrides all petty claims," Clyde countered coldly. "Now, how did you get here?"
He turned to Miss Gorch. "What's his grab number?" he demanded impatiently. "And what is your explanation for initiating a retrieval not on the master schedule?"
"Don't look at me, Clyde," Mary-Ann returned hotly. "I had nothing to do with bringing these clowns in here. Must be your Come Hither field was tuned a little too wide."
"Rather than imputing slovenly technique to your superiors, my girl," Clyde cut in icily, "you'd best busy yourself getting your voucher files in order for investigation. This incident could create a detectable imbalance in the energy budget."
Lafayette took advantage of the internecine wrangle to ease toward the door, reached it, and slid through to find himself in a long corridor which he at once saw was the precise analog of a similar passage at Central which he had once visited briefly. If the parallel held, he should find the office of the Chief of Operations behind one of these doors. He flattened himself against the wall as Clyde and his bodyguard burst through the door at a run. Neither man looked to the side, but hurried past only inches away.
"Where's he gone? He's got to be here!" Clyde yelled, sprinting ahead.
"Wait a minute, Chief," the attendant wheezed, slowing. "He couldn'ta got clear that fast! Are you sure he come this way? Maybe he done another shift."
"Nonetheless, we must give chase!" Clyde threw the words over his shoulder.
As the two pounded off along the carpeted corridor, yelling, Lafayette eased along to the first door on the right and opened it a crack to peer in. At once a booming voice cried:
"There you are at last! Messenger service is a disgrace! What's kept you, boy?" Lafayette slid inside the small office to confront a large, irate executive type with a mane of bushy gray hair and an expression of apoplectic fury.
"I'm not a messenger," Lafayette gasped. "I just need to get a few things cleared up. They sent me to you, said you'd know, if anybody would."
The seated man's expression softened slightly. "What's all that commotion outside?" he inquired offhandedly. "How's a Chief of Logistics to function in this bedlam?"
"Beats me," Lafayette conceded, sinking unbidden into a leather chair. "I'm Sir Lafayette O'Leary," he proceeded. "I've had a bad time of it, what with one or another set of barbarians determined to do me in. Something's up—I don't know what; but the Ajax crack investigation team is onto it, and a fellow named Allegorus is involved. That's about all I've managed to find out; and Daphne's lost somewhere along the line— some renegade named Frumpkin's got her, I think—and the more I try to find her, the farther away I get. Judging from the swamp in Colby County, I'm well outside my usual widerange. I seem to be shifting loci spontaneously—so what can you do to help me?"
"Why should I help you, sir?" the Chief of Logistics inquired blandly. "Outside my interest cluster entirely. The chap you want is Belarius, over in Ops. I'm Zoriel, Supply."
"I've met Belarius V," Lafayette put in desperately, "and he tried to kidnap me. He and this other bureaucrat named Frumpkin. He's no help."
Zoriel frowned. "If Belarius tried to put the arm on you, he doubtless had a reason," he mused, pressing a button on his desk-top. "So perhaps we'd best just have him in on this."
"And now Sheriff Tode's doing it, too," Lafayette added. "Popped right into Prime here, and he's never even so much as heard of focusing the Psychical Energies, I'd be willing to bet. Things are coming apart." O'Leary rose to his feet to emphasize his point. "This is an emergency," he declared feelingly. "And it's time for someone in a position of responsibility to slow down and listen to me, and then take some affirmative action!"
"Calmly, Sir Lafayette—I trust I got your style right? Calmly, we'll just get Belarius in here and get to the bottom of all this nonsense."
"Look," Lafayette said desperately, "I'm no theoretician, but I know that when basic geological features like the bay at Colby Corners turns into a swamp, something is drastically wrong. Even back in Aphasia I, the weather was different—it seemed very close to Artesia, otherwise, except for some kind of barbarian invasion, but it was pouring rain in Artesia; and not a drop in Aphasia. So that must have been a bigger jump than I thought at first. Then this whole string of loci: I've been popping along from one to another, every time I ..." He paused, looking thoughtful, then took the flatwalker from his pocket and examined it closely. It seemed, he noticed, to be vibrating minutely; the faintest of buzzes was audible when he held it to his ear.
"At least twice I did a major shift when I used this gadget," he told Zoriel. "Funny; it never had that effect before." Then he noticed that the faint buzz was modulated into speech.
"Chidler ovigex, raf tras spintern," Lafayette heard clearly, followed by a moment of silence. "Repeat," the tiny voice resumed. "This device is under emergency recall. It must be returned to Ajax at once. DO NOT USE. Repeat: Chidler ovigex, raf tras spintern, uh, that's, 'This device is under IEC Bring it in at once. An Ajax rep is standing by at your local field office. Repeat, Zum vix orobalt, insham totrus bewhif groat. Raf tras spintern. Onfrac: raf trass spoit."
"Great," Lafayette murmured half-aloud. "It's declaring an emergency in some unknown tongue." He looked appealingly at Zoriel. "Do you have a translator handy?" he inquired hopefully.
"See here, young fellow," Zoriel replied sharply. "I don't think I like your having that thing in your possession, whatever it is. You'd better hand it over to me for safekeeping."
"Sorry," Lafayette said. "You're not authorized. I have to turn it in to the Ajax field office at once. It said so."
"In that case," Zoriel said coldly. "I shall be forced to place you under restraint." He opened a drawer and took out a flat, deadly looking handgun. "I hope you're not going to be difficult," he said distastefully.
"Don't count on it," Lafayette said bitterly. "I'm getting a little tired of being placed in custody for no reason." As he spoke he noted a renewed buzzing from the flat-walker. He held it to his ear. "OK, I heard that, O'Leary," the tiny voice said. Lafayette remembered belatedly that all Ajax devices included emergency two-way communications capability. "I have you on my 'A-list," the gadget chirped, "so I'll send somebody around to assist you in turning in the recalled item, IAW Section Nine."