At the gate of the duplex bungalow marked 18-19, the counselor came to an abrupt stop. In the center of the short garden path, head and pointed wolf ears turned in her direction, lay a giant white dog of the type known as Askanam arena hounds—a breed regarded, so Miss Eulate had been told, as the ultimate in reckless canine ferocity and destructiveness when aroused.
The appearance of Chomir—a yellow-eyed, extravagantly muscled hundred-and-fifty-pounder—always brought this information only too vividly back to Miss Eulate’s mind. Not wishing to arouse the silently staring monster now, she continued to hesitate at the gate. Then, hearing the intermittent typing from beyond the open door at the end of the path, she called out in a carefully moderate tone. “Gonwil?”
The typing stopped. Gonwil’s voice replied, “Yes . . . is that you, Miss Eulate?”
“It is. Please keep an eye on Chomir while I come in.”
“Oh, for goodness sake!” Gonwil appeared laughing in the door. She was eighteen; a good-looking, limber-bodied, sunny-tempered blonde. “Now you know Chomir won’t hurt you! He likes you!”
Miss Eulate’s reply was a skeptical silence. But she proceeded up the path now, giving the giant hound a wary four feet of clearance as she went by. To her relief Chomir didn’t move until she was past; then he merely placed his massive head back on his forelegs and half closed his eyes. Airily ignoring Gonwil’s amused smile, Miss Eulate indicated the closed entrance door on the other side of the duplex as she came up. “Telzey isn’t still asleep?”
“No, she left early. Did you want to see her?”
Miss Eulate shook her head.
“This concerns you,” she said. “It would be better if we went inside.”
In Gonwil’s study, she brought a note pad and a small depth photo from her pocket. She held out the pad. “Do these names mean anything to you?”
Gonwil took the pad curiously. After a moment, she shook her head.
“No. Should they?”
Looking as stern as her chubby features permitted, Miss Eulate handed her the photo. “Then do you know these two people?”
Gonwil studied the two figures briefly, said, “To the best of my knowledge, I’ve never seen either of them, Miss Eulate. What is this about?”
“The Tayun consulate in Orado City had the picture transmitted to us a short while ago,” Miss Eulate said. “The two persons in it—giving the names I showed you—called the consulate earlier in the morning and inquired about you.”
“What did they want?”
“They said they had learned you were on Orado and would like to know where you could be found. They implied they were personal friends of yours from Tayun.”
The girl shook her head. “They may be from Tayun, but we aren’t even casually acquainted. I . . .”
“The consulate,” Miss Eulate said grimly, “suspected as much! They secretly recorded the screen images of the callers, who were then requested to come to the consulate to be satisfactorily identified while your wishes in the matter were determined. The callers agreed but have failed to show up. The consulate feels this may indicate criminal intentions. I understand you have been placed on record there as being involved in a private war on Tayun, and . . .”
“Oh, no!” Gonwil wrinkled her nose in sudden dismay. “Not that nonsense again! Not just now!”
“Please don’t feel alarmed!” Miss Eulate told her, not without a trace of guilty relish. The counselor took a strong vicarious interest in the personal affairs of her young charges, and to find one of them touched by the dangerous glamour of a private war was undeniably exciting. “Nobody can harm you here,” she went on. “Pehanron maintains a very dependable security system to safeguard its students.”
“I’m sure it does,” Gonwil said. “But frankly, Miss Eulate, I don’t need to be safeguarded and I’m not at all alarmed.”
“You aren’t?” Miss Eulate asked, surprised.
“No. Whatever reason these people had for pretending to be friends of mine . . . I can think of several perfectly harmless ones . . . they aren’t vendettists.”
“Vendettists?”
Gonwil smiled. “Commercial vendetta. An old custom on Tayun—a special kind of private war. A couple of generations ago it was considered good form to kill off your business competitors if you could. It isn’t being done so much any more, but the practice hasn’t entirely died out.”
Miss Eulate’s eyebrows rose. “But then . . .”
“Well, the point is,” Gonwil said, “that I’m not involved in any vendetta or private war! And I never have been, except in Cousin Malrue’s imagination.”
“I don’t understand,” the counselor said. “Cousin Malrue . . . you’re referring to Mrs. Parlin?”
“Yes. She isn’t exactly a cousin but she’s the closest relative I have. In fact, the only one. And I’m very fond of her. I practically grew up in the Parlin family . . . and of course they’ve more or less expected that Junior and I would eventually get married.”
Miss Eulate nodded. “Rodel Parlin the Twelfth. Yes, I know.” She had met the young man several times on his visits to the college to see Gonwil and gained an excellent impression of him. It looked like an eminently suitable match, one of which Pehanron would certainly have approved; but regrettably Gonwil had not returned Rodel Parlin the Twelfth’s very evident affection in kind.
“Now, Cousin Malrue,” Gonwil went on, “has always been afraid that one or the other of my father’s old business enemies on Tayun was going to try to have me killed before I came of age. My parents and my uncle—my father’s brother—founded Lodis Associates and made a pretty big splash in Tayun’s financial world right from the start. Malrue and her husband joined the concern before I was born, and then, when I was about a year and a half old, my parents and my uncle were killed in two separate accidents. Cousin Malrue was convinced it was vendetta action. . . .”
“Mightn’t it have been?” Miss Eulate asked.
Gonwil shrugged. “She had some reason for suspecting it at the time. My parents and uncle apparently had been rather ruthless in the methods they used to build up Lodis Associates, and no doubt they had plenty of enemies. The authorities who investigated the matter said very definitely that the deaths had been accidental, but Malrue didn’t accept that.
“Then, after the directors of a Tayun bank had been appointed my guardians, some crank sent them a message. It said my parents had died as a result of the evil they’d done, and that their daughter would never live to handle the money they had robbed from better people than themselves. You can imagine what effect that had on Cousin Malrue!”
“Yes, I believe I can.”
“And that,” Gonwil said, “is really the whole story. Since then, every time it’s looked as if I might have come close to being in an accident or getting harmed in some way, Cousin Malrue has taken it for granted that vendettists were behind it. The thing has simply preyed on her mind!”
Miss Eulate looked doubtful, asked, “Isn’t it possible that you are taking the matter too lightly, Gonwil? As you may remember, I met Mrs. Parlin on one occasion here. We had quite an extensive conversation, and she impressed me as being a very intelligent and levelheaded person.”
“Oh, she is,” Gonwil said. “Don’t misunderstand me. Cousin Malrue is in fact the most intelligent woman I’ve ever known. She’s been running Lodis Associates almost single-handedly for the past fifteen years, and the firm’s done very well in that time.
“No, it’s just that one subject on which she isn’t reasonable. Nobody can argue her out of the idea that vendettists are lurking for me. It’s very unfortunate that those mysterious strangers, whoever they were, should have showed up just now. By Tayun’s laws I’ll become a responsible adult on the day I’m nineteen, and that’s only three months away.”
Miss Eulate considered, nodded. “I see! You will then be able to handle the money left to you by your parents. So if the vendettists want to make good on their threat, they would have to, uh, eliminate you before that day!”
“Uh-huh,” Gonwil said. “Actually, of course, most of the money stays in Lodis Associates, but from then on I’ll have a direct voice in the concern’s affairs. The Parlin family and I own about seventy per cent of the stock between us. I suppose those nonexistent vendettists would consider that the same thing as handling my parents’ money.”
Miss Eulate was silent a moment. “If the people who called the consulate were not the vendettists,” she said, “why should they have behaved in such a suspicious manner?”
Gonwil laughed ruefully.
“Miss Eulate, I do believe you could become almost as bad as Cousin Malrue about this! Why, they might have had any number of reasons for acting as they did. If they were from Tayun, they could know I’d soon be of age and they might have some business they’d like me to put money in. Or perhaps they just didn’t express themselves clearly enough, and they’re actually friends of some friends of mine who asked them to look me up on Orado. Or they could be from a Tayun news agency, looking for a story on the last member of the Lodis family. You see?”