pardon, for this is a thing which must be carefully examined and I must ask you now to excuse me.'
He escorted her with punctilious ceremony back within the building and then left her with the guards and that maid she could not yet rid herself from, dismissing her so in a way she found irritating. He was not going to explain just what menace he had blasted out of their path, that she had to accept. But it did not please her—there was too much in his attitude now of one who considered her only something to be thought of in an idle hour, not a real part of his life. That lack of true interest inher she must deal with, and by every way she knew. She must become more important to the Holder than the Jat or the blaster—far more.
Though they had not left their quarters (they probably would not have been permitted to do so, Jofre had thought from the first) the two prisoners were aware that much must be going on in the fortress-palace. Jofre strove to free senses for outer-questing—always an uncertain thing but needed now. He must assess what he could pick up—at least a little of what was in progress. Issha touch caught—as if a fog invisible to the eye but very apparent to one's inner consciousness seeped through the walls. Something which brought with it the same feeling of ever-abiding dangers and evil as hung over the dark alley of the Stinkhole. Save that there he had been free to defend, and here he could not even be sure of what weapon the enemy might produce—or whether there was but one major enemy or more to be reckoned with.
He firmly dismissed all conjectures and concentrated on his inner exercises. The Makwire was always there in his girdle for seeking fingers, and those very fingers themselves were ready to be weapons. The Zacathan for the first time showed signs of worry, prowling back and forth across the room, going now and then to inspect every inch of the scanner as if he expected it to be somehow invisibly attacked unless he kept a careful watch.
They were fed from trays brought by guards, though Harse was not in charge, rather the fetching and carrying was done under the supervision of an officer who did not address them and whom the Zacathan made no attempt to question. The food was good and Jofre was almost sure that it could not have been tampered with. This close to the time when Zurzal's skill with the scanner would be demanded, the Tssekians certainly would not in any way attempt to drug them.
Three times Zurzal called again for the tape Sopt s'Qu had supplied of the scene of the Great Ingathering and sat for a long space of time before it in study, as if by his will alone he could somehow transfer that picture to the scanner and have it appear when desired. Yet it was always the same and the Zacathan would shut it off with a hiss of exasperation.
His neck frill was in constant agitation and the colors, while not bright, ran through a variety of hues. Zurzal was not taking this waiting with the same philosophical adaption to circumstances as he had earlier shown. Jofre debated concerning a second assay at exploration by night and decided against it. The Zacathan was plainly not ready to settle in and he had no desire to leave the other alone.
In spite of his attempts to forget her, his own thoughts played with the puzzle of the Jewelbright. That she was assuredly issha he had not the least doubt, yet she had not responded to his Slip-shadow recognition signal— if she had seen it and somehow he believed that she had. That she was on an oathed mission must be the truth—otherwise she would not be here—no issha would willingly leave Asborgan on some whim. No, she had been introduced into the Holder's household for a very definite purpose, even as others of her Sisters had from time to time found themselves in the halls of lords they were oathed either to protect or bring down. And somehow Jofre did not believe that this one was here to protect—no.
He felt a certain frustration that he could not share his speculations and doubts. Not only did there remain the fact that they might be constantly under observation through the loopholes those violently patterned walls contained but he had no right to interfere or betray another oathed.
They spent a restless night and in the morning Zurzal attempted to view the world through that screening device Jofre had earlier watched.
'That is their monument to the past.' The Zacathan identified a building which flashed onto the screen while a voice blared out in the native tongue a stream of words so fast Jofre could identify perhaps only one in ten.
The screen viewed the structure from slightly above, as if they were seated in a flitter swinging in there for a landing. Jofre caught sight of something to the far right.
'Spaceport!' He was sure that he had seen, through an opening between that forest of grim buildings, the rise of a ship on pad.
'Yesssss—' the hiss of the Zacathan was low. 'To the south, I think.'
They would surely be transported again by flitter Jofre believed. If they made their move, once aboard that, could they hope to reach the port? But what good would that do—
Zurzal might have picked that question out of his mind. 'There is a Prime Control base there— otherwise off-world ships could not land. Reaching that—'
'The Patrol would protect us?' Jofre allowed his doubt of that to be plainly read in his tone. 'The port at Wayright must have been patrolled—yet here we are.'
Zurzal nodded. 'Yesssss—that is ssssooo—but we were but helpless baggage then and they treated us as such.'
'And as we come in with blasters ablaze and demand aid here—' Jofre could not believe that the other could be so naive as to believe that.
