o many thousand
ways an event in the future can happen, then, in one of those several
thousand ways, it will. Precognition doesn't say which way. It doesn't
say how. Especially, it doesn't say why. But we have a very firm
precognition by a very reliable Talent that you'll be alive and doing
something very specific a year from now. So we assume you won't be
permanently killed in the meantime."

"But anything else can happen?"

"More or less," admitted Morgan.

"What will happen?"

"We don't know!" said Morgan again. "Someday I may take you aside and
explain the facts of precognition and other talents as I understand
them. I'm probably quite wrong. But I do know better than to try to pry
certain kinds of information from my Talents. Right now--"

"I'm going to try to capture a, what you might call a tribute-ship,
loaded with food for Mekin."

"Tralee," said Morgan with finality. "You'll try there."

"Will I capture a food-ship there?" asked Bors.

"How the devil would I know?" Morgan snapped.

"You asked the wrong question," said Gwenlyn cheerfully. "If you asked
if there's a cargo-ship down on Tralee, loading foodstuffs for Mekin,
there can be an answer to that."

"Is there?"

"At the moment, yes," Morgan answered. "So the dowsing Talent says."

"Then I'll go there," said Bors.

"I thought you might," said Morgan. He looked at his daughter.

"May I come along?" asked Gwenlyn. "With an assortment of Talents? My
father's going to have long conferences with the king. He'll need some
Talents here to work out things. But I could go along on your ship with
a few of the others. We could help a lot."

"No!" said Bors grimly.

"I thought not," said Morgan. "Very well. Logan, you'll help Captain
Bors, I'm sure."

The math Talent said offhandedly;

"Any calculations he needs, of course."

He looked about him with a confident, modestly complacent air.

Bors walked with Morgan and his daughter to the airlock. He turned to
Gwenlyn. "I don't mean to be ungallant, refusing to let you run risks."

"I'm flattered but annoyed," Gwenlyn answered. "It means I'll have to
take drastic measures. Luck!"

She and her father went into the _Sylva's_ space-boat. The blister doors
closed. Bors went back to the control room. He began to set up the
computations for astrogation from the sun of Glamis to the sun of
Tralee. He shortly heard the sound of arrivals via the _Isis's_
airlock. Presently, his second-in-command report