y to use visual refraction under any circumstance. Be better to
be seen, if it comes to that. There might be another transvisor around."
He kicked gently at the seat beside him.

"This was just a secondary job, done in passing," he said, "but it's a
good thing we found this out when we did. It'll change our whole primary
plan. Now, we'll have to slog it out the hard way. On no account can
anyone refract. It might be suicide. We'll have to talk to travelers. We
want to know what abnormal or unusual developments have taken place in
what country in the last twenty years. Then, we'll have to check them
out. We've got a lot of work to do." He looked around. "Ciernar."

"Yes, sir?" The communications operator looked up.

"Send in a report on this to Group. Make it 'operational.'"

[Illustration]

Konar tilted his head a little. "Say, chief, you said the transvisor's
fear was amplified by my mentacom. What if I wasn't wearing one?"

"You wouldn't feel a thing," Meinora smiled. "But don't get any ideas.
Without amplification, you couldn't control your shield properly. You'd
have protection, but your refraction control's entirely mental, and
levitation direction depends on mental, not physical control, remember?"

"But how about you? You don't use amplification. Neither do several of
the other team chiefs."

Meinora shrugged. "No," he admitted, "we don't need it, except in
abnormal circumstances. But we don't go around scaring transvisors. They
can't kill us, but they can make us pretty sick. You see we're a little
sensitive in some ways." He shook his head. "No, the only advantage I've
got is that I can spot a transvisor by her mental pattern--if I get
close enough. There's a little side radiation that can be detected,
though it won't pass an amplifier. When you've felt it once, you'll
never forget it. Makes you uncomfortable." He smiled wryly.

"And you can believe me," he added, "when I do get close to a
transvisor, I'm very, very careful not to frighten her."

* * * * *

Winter passed, and spring, and summer came. Nal Gerda, Officer of the
Guard, stood on the small wharf below the old watchtower. He looked
across the narrows, examined the cliff opposite him, then looked upward
at the luminous sky. There were a few small clouds, whose fleecy
whiteness accentuated the clear blue about them. Brilliant sunshine
bathed the wharf and tower, driving away the night mists.

It would not be