he couldn't be certain of anything there. Leaving out TT's
strange actions--which might have a number of causes, after all--that
entire string of events could have been created inside her head. There
was no contradictory evidence so far.
But it could do no harm to take what _seemed_ to have happened at face
value. Some pretty grim event might be shaping up, in a very real way,
around here....
"You reason logically!" The impression now was of a voice speaking to
her, a voice that made no audible sound. It was the same being who'd
addressed her a minute or two ago.
The two worlds between which Telzey had felt suspended seemed to glide
slowly together and become one.
"I go to Law school," she explained to the being, almost absently.
Amused agreement. "So we heard."
"What do you want of me?" Telzey inquired.
"You'll know soon enough."
"Why not tell me now?" Telzey urged. It seemed about to dismiss her
again.
Quick impatience flared at her. "Kitten-pictures! Kitten-thoughts!
Kitten-talk! Too slow, too slow! YOUR pictures--too much YOU! Wait
till the...."
Circuits close ... channels open.... Obstructions clear? What _had_ it
said? There'd been only the blurred image of a finicky, delicate, but
perfectly normal technical operation of some kind.
"... Minutes now!" the voice concluded. A pause, then another thought
tossed carelessly at her. "This is more important to you, small-bite,
than to _us_!" The voice impression ended as sharply as if a
communicator had snapped off.
Not _too_ friendly! Telzey walked on towards the house, a new fear
growing inside her ... a fear like the awareness of a storm gathered
nearby, still quiet--deadly quiet, but ready to break.
"Kitten-pictures!" a voice seemed to jeer distantly, a whispering in
the park trees beyond the garden wall.
* * * * *
Halet's cheeks were lightly pinked; her blue eyes sparkled. She looked
downright stunning, which meant to anyone who knew her that the worst
side of Halet's nature was champing at the bit again. On uninformed
males it had a dazzling effect, however; and Telzey wasn't surprised
to find their visitor wearing a tranced expression when she came into
the living room. He was a tall, outdoorsy man with a tanned, bony
face, a neatly trained black mustache, and a scar down one cheek which
would have seemed dashing if it hadn't been for the stupefied look.
Beside his chair stood a large, clumsy instrum
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