“Well, not exactly; it’s generally kept by such non-Assassins as want to remain in their present reincarnations, though.” “That’s what I meant. Well, suppose you declare a general, planet-wide Assassins’ Truce in this political war, and make the leaders of both parties responsible for keeping it. Publish lists of the top two or three thousand Statisticalists and Volitionalists, starting with Mirzark of Bashad and Prince Jirzyn of Starpha, and inform them that they will be assassinated, in order, if the fighting doesn’t cease.” “Well!” A smile grew on Klarnood’s face. “Lord Virzal, my thanks; a good suggestion. I’ll try it. And furthermore, I’ll withdraw all Assassin protection permanently from anybody involved in political activity, and forbid any Assassin to accept any retainer connected with political factionalism. It’s about time our members stopped discarnating each other in these political squabbles.” He pointed to the three airboats drawn up on the top of the dome; speedy black craft, bearing the red oval and winged bullet. “Take your choice, Lord Virzal. I’ll lend you a couple of my men, and you’ll be in Ghamma in three hours.” He hooked fingers and clapped shoulders with Verkan Vall, bent over Dalla’s hand. “I still like you, Lord Virzal, and I have seldom met a more charming lady than you, Lady Dallona. But I sincerely hope I never see either of you again.” * * * * * The ship for Dhergabar was driving north and west; at seventy thousand feet, it was still daylight, but the world below was wrapping itself in darkness. In the big visiscreens, which served in lieu of the windows which could never have withstood the pressure and friction heat of the ship’s speed, the sun was sliding out of sight over the horizon to port. Verkan Vall and Dalla sat together, watching the blazing western sky—the sky of their own First Level time-line. “I blame myself terribly, Vall,” Dalla was saying. “And I didn’t mean any of them the least harm. All I was interested in was learning the facts. I know, that sounds like ‘I didn’t know it was loaded,’ but—” “It sounds to me like those Fourth Level Europo-American Sector physicists who are giving themselves guilt-complexes because they designed an atomic bomb,” Verkan Vall replied. “All you were interested in was learning the facts. Well, as a scientist, that’s all you’re supposed to be interested in. You don’t have to worry about any social or political implications. People have to learn to live with newly-discovered facts; if they don’t, they die of them.” “But, Vall; that sounds dreadfully irresponsible—”