"Dead," Tel said. "What I really came about was to burn his plans for the kidnaping." "Dead?" Rara asked. "Well, I'm not surprised. Oh, the plans! Why I burned those myself the minute I got back into his room. They were all over the table; why they didn't take them all up right then, I'll never--" "Did you burn every last scrap?" "And crumbled the ashes, and disposed of them one handful at a time over a period of three days by the docks. Every last scrap." "Then I guess there's nothing for me to do," he said. "You may not see me or Alter for a long time. I'll give her your love." Rara bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "For Alter," she said. Then she asked, "Tel?" "What?" "That woman you brushed by in the street when I saw you running up the block...." "Yes?" "Did you ever see her before?" "I didn't look at her very carefully. I'm not sure. Why?" "Never mind," Rara said. "You just get on out of here before.... Well, just get." "So long, Rara." He got. * * * * * Not so high as the towers of the Royal Palace of Toron, the green tile balcony outside Clea's window caught the breeze like the hem of an emerald woman passing the sea. There was water beyond the other houses, deeper blue than the sky, and still. She leaned over the balcony railing. On the white marble table were her notebook, a book on matter transmission, and her slide rule. "Clea." She whirled at the voice, her black hair leaping across her shoulder in the low sun. "Thanks for getting my message through." "This is you," she said slowly. "In person now." "Uh-huh." "I'm not quite sure what to say," she said, blinking. "Except I'm glad." "I've got some bad news," he said. "How do you mean?" "Very bad news. It'll hurt you." She looked puzzled, her head going to the side. "Tomar's dead." The head straightened, the black eyebrows pulled together, and her lower lip tautened across her teeth until her jaw muscles quivered. She nodded once, quickly, and said, "Yes." Then, as quickly, she looked down and up at him. Her eyes were closed. "That ... that hurts so much." He waited a few moments, and then said, "Here, let me show you something." "What?" "Come over to the table. Here." He took a handful of copper centiunit pieces from his pocket, moved her books and slide rule over, and arranged the coins in a square, four by four, only with one corner missing. Now he took a smaller, silver deciunit and put it on the table about a foot from the missing corner. "Shoot it into the gap there," he said. She put her forefinger on the silver disk, was still, and then snapped her finger. The silver circle shot across the foot of white marble, hit the corner, and two pieces of copper bounced away from the other side of the square. She looked at him, questioningly. "It's a gambling game, called Randomax. It's getting sort of popular in the army." "Random for random numbers, max for matrix?" "You've heard of it?" "Just guessing."