"Listen, Itz, we've got to do some tall remembering. Let's see: there was a whole rack of blanks in the memory-recharging section of the room where we found the three skeletons. Yeah, now I remember: I pulled this one out of the recorder set. I showed it to Foster when he was hunting his own trace. He didn't realize I'd pulled it out of the machine and he thought it was an empty. But I'll bet you somebody had his mind taped, and then left in a hurry, before the trace could be color-coded and filed. "On the other hand, maybe it's a blank that had just been inserted when somebody broke up the play-house.... But wasn't there something Foster said ... about when he woke up, way back when, with a pile of fresh corpses around him? He gave somebody emergency treatment and to a Vallonian that would include a complete memory-transcription.... Do you realize what I've got here in my hand, Itz?" She looked up at me inquiringly. "This is what's left of the guy that Foster buried: his pal, Ammaerln, I think he called him. What's inside his cylinder used to be tucked away in the skull of the Ancient Sinner. The guy's not so dead after all. I'll bet his family will pay plenty for this trace, and be grateful besides. That'll be an ace in the hole in case I get too hungry on Vallon." I got up, crossed the apartment and dropped the trace in a drawer beside Foster's own memory. "Wonder how Foster's making out without his past, Itz? He claimed the one I've got here could only be a copy of the original stored at Okk-Hamiloth, but my briefing didn't say anything about copying memories. He must be somebody pretty important to rate that service." Suddenly my eyes were rivetted to the markings on Foster's trace lying in the drawer. "Zblood! The royal colors!" I sat down on the bed with a lurch. "Itzenca, old gal, it looks like we'll be entering Vallonian society from the top. We've been consorting with a member of the Vallonian nobility!" * * * * * During the days that followed, I tried again and again to raise Foster on the communicator ... without result. I wondered how I'd find him among the millions on the planet. My best bet would be to get settled down in the Vallonian environment, then start making a few inquiries. I would play it casually: act the part of a Vallonian who had merely been travelling for a few hundred years--which wasn't unheard of--and play my cards close to my gravy stains until I learned what the score was. With my Vallonian briefing I ought to be able to carry it off. The Vallonians might not like illegal immigrants any better than they did back home, so I'd keep my interesting foreign background to myself. I would need a new name. I thought over several possibilities and selected "Drgon." It was as good a Vallonian jawbreaker as any.