sted, she would have him released and commend the people
who had done it; if he got through, she would have security procedures
tightened. Neither paid serious attention to the fact that if he were
caught under certain circumstances she would have no chance to protect
him; he would be shot on sight.

Nevan thought that perfectly reasonable. He was a Sandeman warrior,
after all, and his thakur was an Irschchan; risks were a normal part of
life for both of them, to be accepted and even savored for the spice
they added.

He had done all he could here, in the Records Section; he lowered his
mind-shield and reached out. *Thakur?*

Her answer was prompt, and he smiled to himself, enjoying the cool
clarity of her mind-touch. *What results, thakur-na?* she asked.

*About what we expected. Kelly told me the agent was Logistics Officer
at a base on Piper's World during the Traiti counter-attacks there, but
he never told me which base, and the description he gave fits five of
them. I was able to eliminate two of those because the Logistics
Officers were female--but that still leaves three. I'm going to have
to go under cover to find the right one.*

He "heard" the amused purr that was the Irschchan version of a laugh.
*A return to the field work you enjoy so must be a terrible sacrifice,
my Nevan.*

Nevan let his thoughts lapse into High War Speech, chuckling. *Nay,
Thakur, as thou knowest well--save that it does mean I must conceal thy
mark, lest it identify me and make thy object in this attempt no true
test.*

*Aye, but it should not be for long.*

*And I knew when I swore that I might have to do it,* Nevan agreed.
*Until my success or failure, then.*

Three days later he was far from Terra, the violet-flower tattoo on his
cheek concealed by synthiskin, in a small Kanchatka-class courier ship.
That was a definite luxury for a private individual, though not
unreasonable for a Sandeman warrior who'd done well securing private
employment and wanted more--who was, in short, a very good, very
expensive hired killer. There weren't many, granted; killing for its
own sake wasn't highly regarded on Sandeman, especially if anything
more honorable was available, but there were enough to make his cover
plausible.

This, he had decided, was going to be fun.

* * * * *

A couple of days later, he was less sure. He'd come away from the
Palace Complex with as much solid data as he'd ever had