"We must try," Claerten said. "And your job is enormously important." "I know that," Jonas thought wearily. "You have accomplished the first step," Claerten said. "Do nothing rash." "Of course not." "You will not accept help--" "I will not," Jonas thought. "Very well, then," Claerten thought. There was the ghost of another idea; Jonas caught it. "I know perfectly well that you wouldn't have sent me if there were any other available member," he thought. "There is no need to remind me." "I'm sorry," Claerten thought. He radiated caution, worry, patience; Jonas turned in the bed and cut off from the director with a grunt. He was tired; long-distance linkages were a drain on the body's energy, even when the person involved was easy to visualize. But Claerten had insisted on intermittent contact. If there were such a thing as total contact, constant contact over a period of days, Jonas thought, Claerten would use me for a puppet, a veritable Punch among men; he would override me and take me over the way a traveling entertainer rules his jointed dolls. And that would be a fine thing for a hero, wouldn't it? He grimaced in the darkness. Constant contact was simply impossible; any reaching out used energy, and linking up for a long period simply burned the body up like a long starvation; it was as bad as a penance. Jonas was thankful for that. And for the rest--well, he thought resignedly, what was a hero without a quest? And what was a quest without someone to set it? But that the someone had to be Claerten, with his caution and his old-woman worry-- Jonas sighed and set about the business of falling asleep. * * * * * The days passed slowly, with great boredom. Jonas made contact twice with Claerten, who told him over and over to wait, to do nothing: "The next move is coming soon; do nothing to hurry it. You can only upset the natural course of events." "Which is unwise," Jonas thought bitterly, "and risky, and very probably impious as well." "As for the piety," Claerten thought, "I leave that to the priests and the women. But wisdom and caution are my task, Jonas, as they must be yours." "I--" "You are a hero, out on an adventure," Claerten thought witheringly. "But set your course with sense, travel it with caution; you will the more certainly arrive." "Philosophy for a dull plodder," Jonas thought. "Philosophy for one of the Brotherhood," Claerten thought back. "We are tiny as yet; we have no force. You can add to that force, add greatly; but you must be wise." "I must be slow, you mean." "I mean what I have told you," Claerten thought. "And--one more thing, Jonas." "Yes?" "The daughter," Claerten thought. "I have seen her in your mind. Ignore the wench. Is she worth what your task is worth?" "I never--" "Then my caution is unnecessary," Claerten thought. "But, in the unlikely case that she might tempt you to folly--remember it." Jonas, who disliked irony, sighed and cut off.