unpleasant experiences.
I'll be more stern with her."

Gwenlyn did not seem alarmed.

"One more thing," Bors added. "They say the dictator of Mekin is
superstitious, that he patronizes fortune-tellers. Suppose one of _them_
is a Talent? Suppose _he_ gets precognized information?"

"I worry about that," admitted Morgan. "But I know that I have effective
Talents. There's no evidence that _he_ has."

"He might have a Talent whose talent is confusing our Talents," Bors
said with some sarcasm.

Morgan grinned tolerantly.

"Talk to these two. We've got some firm precognitions that make things
look bad for Mekin."

He left the room. Gwenlyn remained, listening with interest when the
conversation began, and now and then saying something of no great
importance. But her presence kept Bors from feeling altogether like a
fool. Madame Porvis looked at him with languishing, sentimental eyes.
Harms watched him accusingly.

Their questions were trivial. Bors told about the landings on Tralee and
on Garen. The woman asked for details that would help her picture feats
of derring-do. Bors hesitated, and did not quite tell her about the
truck drivers on Tralee who volunteered the information that their loads
were booby-trapped. But he did stress the fact that the populations of
dominated planets were on the thin edge of revolt. The suspicious Talent
asked very little. He listened, frowning.

When it was over and they'd gone--the fat woman again somehow managing a
gait which could only be called sinuous--Bors said abruptly, "What's
this event you know of, a year ahead?"

"King Humphrey opening parliament on Kandar," said Gwenlyn pleasantly.

"There's another," said Bors, "which implies specifically that I'll
still be alive."

"That?" said Gwenlyn. "That's another one. I won't talk about it. It
implies that my father's going to retire from Talents, Incorporated."

Bors fumed.

"I don't like this prediction business," he said. "It still seems to
hint that we're not free agents. Tell me," he said apprehensively. "That
precognition about me, it doesn't include Madame Porvis?"

Gwenlyn laughed. "No. Definitely no!"

Bors grunted. Then he managed to grin.

"In that case I'll go pilfer some provisions so the fleet will be
prepared to do what you tell me it won't, but which it has to be
prepared to do. I suppose I'll be back?"

"I hope so," said Gwenlyn, smiling.

She gave him her hand. He left. He shook his head as he made