Xanabar Citadel Spaceport."

The mercenary said, "The work of outlanders--riffraff such as this!"

"Well," snapped Peter Hawley, "do His Excellency's Peacemakers condone
such goings-on?"

"We keep the Peace of Xanabar. Your charge is your word, Terrestrial."

"Terrestrial Barbarian, isn't it?"

"I arrest you--"

"Oh, stop it. For fiveweight of crystal-cut can you be bribed to haul
that specimen off to jail and let me go about making my own Peace with
Xanabar?"

"You accuse me of accepting bribes?"

"You re a mercenary, aren't you? Sevenweight of crystal-cut."

"Ten."

"Seven," said Peter.

"Ten," said the mercenary, "and you have one more caper coming."

"Ten," agreed Peter Hawley, "and you look the other way when I take the
lid off."

* * * * *

"Still got it," said Buregarde, sniffing at the closed door but keeping
one eye on the disappearing mercenary and his prisoner.

"I've got it, too. Still fright and concern: fear of harm, concern over
what happens next."

"Strong?"

"Definitely," said Peter closing his eyes and holding his breath.

"Nothing measurable?" asked the dog after a full minute.

"No. Too bad I was never introduced to her. I have no idea of her
strength of mind--wait!" Another minute went by in personal silence;
Peter Hawley's concentration far too deep to be disturbed by the sounds
of the city's spaceport slum by night. The dog backed away from the door
and took an alert position to guard Peter while the man was immersed in
his own mind. Finally Peter alerted and shook his head sadly. "I thought
for a moment that she'd caught me. A fleeting thought of rescue or
escape, concept of freedom, flight, safety. But wish-thinking. Not
communication. Let's go in."

"Barge, or slink?" asked the dog.

"Slink."

"Have it your way," said Buregarde.

Outside, the place looked closed. The door was solid, a plastic in
imitation of bronze through which neither light nor sound passed. The
windows were dark. But once the door was cracked, the wave of sound came
pouring out along the slit of light and filled the street with echo and
re-echo.

[Illustration]

"Slink, now," said the dog.

"So everybody makes mistakes."

Inside, a woman leaned over a low counter. "Check your weap ... say! You
can't bring that animal in here!"

Buregarde said, "He isn't bringing me. I'm here because I like it."

The woman's eyes bugged. "What ... kind--?"

"I am man's b