"Might've been lasers," Megan said, looking at the smoothness of the cuts, and the way the surfaces were glazed without being polished. Inside, she was thinking with some admiration of the creativity of a man who could take the time to leave details like this all over his world: not just elaborate or unusual workmanship, but mysteries and puzzles to work over at any of several levels-the place itself could be the subject of hours of cheerful pastime as you tried to work out whether Rod had just tossed in some detail as a throwaway, or meant you to mull it over and find some hidden meaning therein. And there was always the possible joke that there was was no meaning: the kind of joke that Megan suspected a Creator might be inclined to pull. no meaning: the kind of joke that Megan suspected a Creator might be inclined to pull.

"It's pretty enough, that's for sure," Wayland said, and led them up to the gates of the castle, which were open. Out in its front courtyard, people were spreading out laundry to dry in the sun, and a big florid man in dark blue was walking around and visibly bossing everybody, waving his hands, giving directions. As the three of them walked in, he immediately boomed at Wayland, "No vacancies, good smith, there are no further employment opportunities here!"

"Master Tald," Wayland said, "don't you start shouting. These people are here on business!"

"What kind of business?"

"Better ask them," Wayland said.

Leif bowed politely enough to the majordomo and said, "Sir, if possible we need to see Lord Fettick, on a matter of some urgency."

"Now, I don't know about that, young man, he's very busy today."

"You think it was magic they used on these stones?" Megan said suddenly to Wayland, pointing up at the closest wall. Wayland turned to follow the gesture, and as she did so, Leif slipped the token out of his pocket and showed it briefly to Tald.

Tald's eyes got wide. "Well," he said, "it's early yet, and I doubt the first appointments will be along for some time. Come on, then, young sir, young lady."

"Hard to say," Wayland was saying as Leif pocketed the token again, "at this end of time..."

"I guess so," Megan said. "Look, Wayland, we may be a while."

"I'll be down in the marketplace then," he said, "or I won't." He waved at them, and set off through the gates again.

Leif threw Megan a briefly questioning glance as they followed the majordomo up through the castle door proper, and up a winding stairway that started making its way up around the walls of the central, circular tower. Megan shook her head, and shrugged.

The second floor was one big airy room, rather like the keep in Minsar, except that all the tapestries seemed to have been taken down for the summer. With the weather fairly warm and pleasant here this time of year, it was not a problem. The majordomo ushered them into the middle of the room, where there were a table and a chair, and in the chair, a man.

"Lord Fettick," said Tald, "these two travelers come on urgent business, bearing the sigil of Rod."

The man in the chair looked up, somewhat surprised, then rose to greet them-old-fashioned courtesy, which Leif and Megan both answered with bows. "Really? Then bring them a couple of chairs, please, and make them comfortable. And excuse yourself."

Tald bustled about, bringing a couple of light ropewood chairs, which he placed on the far side of the table, and then departed. The man gestured them to the chairs. Leif and Megan sat down.

Megan reflected that she had never actually met someone wearing rose-tinted gla.s.ses before, since she knew very few people who actually elected to wear gla.s.ses at all, the state of laser surgery being what it was. But here was Fettick wearing them, a tall, slim, somewhat bemused-looking man in a gabardine, which was the height of style for the fourteenth century, but to Megan's eyes mostly looked like a cross between a monk's habit and a bathrobe. It's probably pretty comfortable, though It's probably pretty comfortable, though, she thought.

If this was the High House's throne room, it wasn't over-decorated. Indeed, the throne was more of a comfy chair-a rather overstuffed one-and it was pulled up to what was probably usually used as a formal dining table, but was now in intensive use as a desk. The beautiful polished ebony surface was almost completely covered with all manner of paperwork and parchments and rolled-up books and sewn-up books, quills and pens and styli and tablets. It looked like an explosion in an old and eclectic library.

"Sir," Leif said, "thank you for taking the time to see us."

"Well, you're welcome...briefly. I hope you understand I'm very busy this morning, and I don't have a lot of time." He waved vaguely at the desk.

"We understand entirely," said Leif. "Sir, do you recognize this token?" He held up the golden coin that Rodrigues had given them.

Fettick fixed a somewhat skeptical look on it. "Game intervention," he said softly, and whispered something to the computer. It whispered back, inaudibly.

His eyebrows went up. He whispered again. Then he said, "Has Rod Almighty actually been here here?"

"Yes, sir. We saw him last night. He sends his regards," Leif said, which, while not strictly true, struck him as something Rod probably would have said.

"What did he want?"

"He wanted to talk to us about a matter which was concerning us...and that's why we've come to see you," Leif said.

"Sir," Megan said, "your forces were in conflict with those of King Argath of Orxen not too long ago."

"Yes." Fettick sat down, and a small smile with a slightly feral edge crossed his face. Suddenly he didn't look quite so f.e.c.kless. "Yes, we won, didn't we?"

"Yes, you did. The problem right now, sir, is that anyone who fought a battle against Argath and won appears to be in danger of being-excuse me, I must use the indelicate word-'bounced.'"

Fettick's eyes went wide for a moment. "It is is indelicate," he said. And then he looked again at the pocket into which Leif had stuffed the token. "Still, you have that...so I guess we can talk about such things as the Outside. Do you mean that the lady who got bounced the other day was-" indelicate," he said. And then he looked again at the pocket into which Leif had stuffed the token. "Still, you have that...so I guess we can talk about such things as the Outside. Do you mean that the lady who got bounced the other day was-"

"She was about to have a battle with Argath. She would have won. She was bounced quite near the time when she would have begun fighting. Others have been, too-usually after the battle. But now this kind of thing seems to have started happening before the fact."

"Is Argath responsible, or is it one of his people, or-"

"No one knows. All we've noticed is the connection. And so we're warning people who have fought with Argath recently, and come out the better, that they should look to their security. Here and elsewhere."

"And take what kind of precautions?" said Fettick.

Leif and Megan looked at each other. "Uh-" Megan said.

"Exercise more than usual care in your comings and goings," Leif said. This drill he knew well enough, from his father's diplomatic connections. "If you have routines in your travel or outside work, vary them. If you have trips scheduled that are really unnecessary, don't make them. Check out your living s.p.a.ce, make sure there are no objects in it that you didn't put there, that you don't recognize."

"Stay inside?" said Fettick. "Opaque the windows? Lock the doors?"

Leif looked at him, and thought maybe it might be wiser to be quiet for a moment.

Fettick sat in his chair again, lacing his fingers over his robe. "Young sir," he said. "Do you know what I do for my living...'out there'?"

Leif shook his head. He hadn't quarried that deeply into Fettick's background.

"I collect garbage," said Lord Fettick, "in Duluth, Minnesota. And my line of work requires that I repeat my routine flawlessly, twice a week, on each of three routes. 'Varying' a garbage pickup route would be looked on, at the management levels above mine, with grave displeasure." He sighed. "And yes, I know how that lady was bounced the other night. It was tragic. Have you heard anything about how she's doing?"

"Still in the hospital," Leif said, "and no news on when she might be likely to regain consciousness."

"Yes. Well," said Fettick. "She was on her way to the store, I think, when someone came along and knocked her car off the road. I work in medium to heavy traffic all day, every day, and if someone wants to kill or maim me, believe me, they'll have no trouble doing it. My main concern is that they might miss me, and kill one of my workmates. And it sounds, from what you're telling me, that there's pretty much nothing that can be done to solve the problem at its root at the moment, that those of us who're targeted have already committed the offense which has caused the targeting, and there's nothing we can do to make amends."

"Probably not," Leif said.

"That being the case," said Lord Fettick, "I can either spend the days from now until this person comes after me in a haze of fear, trying to protect against who knows what attack, from no one knows what direction-or I can get on with my life and refuse to be terrified. That's usually the way to deal with terrorists, isn't it?"

"While that is, ethically, a superior position," Megan said softly, "practically, it sometimes has little effect on the terrorists, who count on something like it among proud or brave people. The terrorists have a nasty tendency to go ahead and try to blow you up anyway."

"Well, let them come," said Fettick. "I'm going to sit tight and do my job. There, and here."

The tall slender man got up and came around his desk toward them. "I'll tell you something for free," he said. "I've had it. Two nights now, two nights of my good gameplay time, which costs me enough on my salary, Argath's miserable lackey the Duke has been in here making merry with his pestilent little dwarf, ogling my daughter, eating me out of house and home, drinking all my best wine, trying to make me think a dynastic marriage to him is a good idea. Nasty superannuated creature. And here he's sat, these two nights, trying his best to blackmail me. Or worse, to browbeat me. Trying to sign me up for an alliance in which I have no interest, and one for which I would be condemned from one end of the Northeast to the other, an alliance with a man who attacked my country, attacked me me, not eight months ago! The cheapest, nastiest kind of protection racket. And I have to sit here, and mouth plat.i.tudes at him for politics' sake-don't think I don't know at least that much about statecraft. I'm about up to here with pressure! I don't need a life like that. It's just not worth living."

He sat back and sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment. "I will take reasonable precautions," he said. "But no more. Whoever is behind this, I refuse to allow them to control my life. But I do thank you," he said, "for going out of your way to warn me. I take it there are other stops on your itinerary."

"Yes," Megan said. "d.u.c.h.ess Morn-"

Fettick burst out laughing. "You're going to bring her her the same message you've brought the same message you've brought me me?"

"In essence," said Megan.

"Do you have armor?"

She and Leif looked at each other. "Are we likely to need it?"

"If you're going to tell her she has to vary her daily routine, you'll need a testudo at least," Fettick said. "Well, I wish you luck. I understand that you really do mean well...and if, as I think, you're somehow involved with the attempt to find out who has been bouncing people, I wish you all the luck you can use. Now I have to get on with things here. But are you sure you won't stay for breakfast?"

"Uh, no, sir," Leif said. "Thank you, though. We should get straight on to d.u.c.h.ess Morn's."

"Sure you don't want to think twice about the armor?"

Leif smiled slightly. "I think we'll manage."

They bowed to Fettick and headed out.

They looked around in the marketplace, before making their transit, but found that Wayland had already left. No one was sure exactly when. "Oh, well," Leif said. "We'll hear from him. Ready for transit?"

"Yup. Same size circle?"

"Same locus."

"Ready. Cover your ears, we've got an alt.i.tude change."

The world went black and white and phosphene-filled, and Megan swallowed to pop her ears, and swallowed again. They finally agreed to pop, and she looked down on a landscape as different from Errint as night from day. Everything in sight was flatland, a low swampy oxbowed river delta in which countless pools and trickles of water glittered and shone in the morning. Reeds stood up everywhere, and red-winged blackbirds and orioles perched on the reeds, swaying and singing in the wind that stroked through the reed-beds. In the center of everything was a great platform built on ma.s.sive piles sunk into the water, and on the platform was a huge wooden house, turreted and towered like a castle. A wooden road was laid to it across the watery landscape, ending in a drawbridge and a steep switchback causeway that led up to the platform.

The two of them began to walk down the wooden path to the d.u.c.h.ess's castle. As they went, Megan slapped an opportunistic mosquito and said, "Were you noticing Wayland this morning?"

"Huh? Not particularly."

"Maybe it was just me," Megan said, "but there was something, a little, I don't know...a little 'off' about him this morning. He seemed distracted somehow."

"I noticed you distracting him, all right. Where did that come from?"

"It occurred to me that we might not want everybody and his brother to know about the token," Megan said. "For one thing, it's a good way to get it stolen. By the way, let me have it for a while."

"Sure." Leif handed it over.

"For another..." Megan trailed off. "You notice the way he was answering questions?"

"No. Why?"

Megan shrugged. "Just that I kept getting back these answers that were kind of general, or...I don't know...not really germane to what was said...."

"Maybe he has trouble hearing," Leif said.

"Oh, come on."

"No, seriously. If it's nerve damage causing the hearing problem, not even virtuality can do much about it, supposedly. He might not be hearing us right. I've seen that kind of thing happen with hearing aids."

"Huh." Megan thought about that. "And it's not really something you'd ask about, I guess."

"You sure you're not imagining it?"

Megan gave him a look, and then rubbed her eyes. She was feeling a little grainy around the edges, possibly from all the transits. "Oh, I don't know...maybe I am. Or maybe he was just distracted. G.o.d knows I I am at the moment. Anything's possible." She sighed. am at the moment. Anything's possible." She sighed.

But just a little while later, as they walked, Megan thought about what she had said, and the answers she had gotten back, and finally she thought, No. No, it was real enough. He's just a little off, somehow. Not concentrating...I guess anybody can be distracted, even when they're playing. Though for what people pay to play in here, you'd think they'd go get the distractedness out of their systems before they waste the money No. No, it was real enough. He's just a little off, somehow. Not concentrating...I guess anybody can be distracted, even when they're playing. Though for what people pay to play in here, you'd think they'd go get the distractedness out of their systems before they waste the money.

She thought for a moment more, then said quietly as they walked, "Game intervention."

"Listening."

"Do you detect your boss' token here?"

"Concessionary token is detected. How can I help you?"

"The player called Wayland. Is he real or generated?"

"Do you mean, is the player human?"

"Yes."

"Yes, the player is human."

"Huh. Finished," Megan said, and shoved the token back in her pocket. I hate it when this computer tells me things I don't want to hear I hate it when this computer tells me things I don't want to hear.

"I see the guards up on the walls have noticed us," Leif said. "Look at all those crossbows."

"Maybe this this is what we really needed that armor for," Megan said as they came to the far end of the drawbridge, under the shadow of its gatehouses. is what we really needed that armor for," Megan said as they came to the far end of the drawbridge, under the shadow of its gatehouses.

"Too late to go back now," Leif said, entirely too cheerfully for someone who had so many weapons trained on him.

"I don't know," Megan said softly, as guards began to pour down out of the gatehouses and onto the castle side of the drawbridge. "Late breakfast is beginning to look real good."

Megan stepped out of Sarxos into her personal s.p.a.ce to find a pile of e-mail waiting-all kinds of things that needed to be handled, and she just wasn't up to it. Too many disappointments, too much excitement. Too many things hadn't worked.

She blinked herself out of the personal s.p.a.ce, feeling intensely weary...and also feeling as if she had been hit all over her body with a baseball bat. Stress... Stress... As she stood up from the chair, she glanced at the clock. 0516. As she stood up from the chair, she glanced at the clock. 0516. Ooooh...it can't be that late...can it? Ooooh...it can't be that late...can it?

Yes, it can....

Megan left the office and went off into the kitchen, groaning a little as she moved. Somebody had thoughtfully left her tea-making things out, and a banana on the counter.