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the castle to Mars."
    "For God's sake, Maria!"
    "For God's sake, Bey. I know. To Mars, and Old Mars at that. Wall by wall, stone by stone, brick by brick. I haven't been to see it, but people who have say there isn't a stick or a slate different from the way it was on Earth. It's still Castle Melford."
    "It must have cost an absolute fortune."
    "More than you imagine. She didn't ship by any of the usual ways, because apparently she was afraid there might be damage in transit. She opened a Mattin Link and held it long enough for everything to be passed through."
    "That's even worse. Maria, are you sure about all this? It's not just money. Opening a Link between Earth and Mars would need USF approval and the blessing of the Planetary Coordinators. What about quarantine? And holding a Link open with that geometry would cost more energy than you can imagine."
    "I'm sure it did. But if you're the richest person in the solar system, little details like those don't matter. Anyway, now you can see why jackass Jarvis Dommer expected you to be impressed by Trudy Melford's largesse. The Empress is willing to link you out to Mars just for the pleasure of your conversation." Maria eyed Bey shrewdly. "When will you be going?"
    "I won't."
    "You're sure?"
    "No way." Bey was silent for a moment. "But I still don't see any reason why she would want me there."
    "Watch that bump of curiosity, I can see it swelling from here. If Trudy knows you at all she could be relying on it. But I'll make a guess as to why she's interested in you. People who have been out to see Melford Castle in its new location say there are some exotic forms on Mars now, shapes that BEC had nothing to do with developing. Maybe illegal forms, too. Trudy must have seen them, deep in the Underworld. If she thinks they have commercial potential, there's your answer. She wants you to evaluate the forms; see what makes them tick, see if they have fatal flaws, make them legal. She scents money and she'd like to chase it."
    "Good luck to her. But it has nothing to do with me. I'm busy."
    "Are you now." Maria pursed her lips. "You're making me curious. First you say you are retired, now you say you're busy. And you live alone on that island in the middle of nowhere. You always used to work like a dog—harder than me. What are you busy doing , Bey? I'll bet it's funny business."
    "It's nothing." Wolf reached out as though to cut off yet another conversation. Then he shook his head. "Maria, you're too smart for your own damn good. When I'm ready to talk—if I ever am—you'll be the first to know."
    "I'll hold you to that."
    "And thanks for the information."
    "Anytime. Say hi to the Empress."
    "I won't be talking to her."
    "We'll see about that. If you'd worked for Gertrude Zenobia Melford as long as I have, you'd know how pushy she is. Whatever Trudy wants . . . you're the one who'll need the good luck."
    Maria nodded knowingly and cut the connection. She left Bey with a lot to ponder. After three quiet years on Wolf Island, he had suddenly found himself interrupted daily—almost hourly.
    Coincidence?
    Bey sat down at the circular table. Time to think.
    He did not move for more than three hours. The failed experiment in the form-change tank in front of him, with its steadily dispersing swarm of bees, was ignored.
    Sondra Dearborn had been correct in her assessment of Bey's personality. He was interested in ideas, things, and people—in that order. But people were not immune from natural laws. Such laws included the laws of probability. Bey understood very well that coincidences had to happen, that odd events involving people must sometimes occur in runs.
    He had known that fact for many years. He would accept it now; but only when all other possible explanations for the sudden change in his own circumstances had been eliminated.
    * * *
    For the next two days it seemed as though Bey had been worrying over nothing. No one called. No one tried to visit. He had sixty quiet hours to