his right cheek?"

"There is not."

"Interesting--thank you. I will need some assistance after all, it
appears; I would like to get into his ship with as few traces as
possible."

"An entry specialist will be with you in ten minutes. Is there
anything else?"

"Not at the moment. Owajima out." So his pursuer's true name was
Nevan, Owajima thought, troubled. And the ship's largest contingent
was from Leras. Knowing both Sandemans and the unconditional nature of
the personal fealty oath, he found it hard to believe his pursuer's
identity. What had gone wrong, to turn a Sandeman warrior from
thakur-na to renegade assassin?

Or . . . had anything? If Nevan had either deserted or harmed his
chosen lady, it would have been all over the news channels, and there
had been nothing. The likelihood, then, was that he was on a mission
for her--a mission that somehow concerned him.

Owajima smiled slowly at that. Very well, he would take all possible
precautions, though he no longer believed they would be necessary.
Nevan DarLeras had a powerful and trained Talent, something "Vance
DarLowrie" had shown no traces of--so he was not using either that or
Ranger Losinj's position to simplify his mission. An exercise of some
sort, then--security, in all probability. If true, it could be proven
easily, Owajima thought, and he would have the pleasure of meeting his
predecessor.

* * * * *

Nevan enjoyed both the cookies and the talk, though he kept an eye on
the time and didn't let himself relax too much. Owajima was alerted
now, and field agents tended to have a rather violent reaction to
someone stalking them for unknown purposes. Nevan couldn't blame them;
he'd reacted the same way when one of his net had warned him someone
was on his trail. About the best such a pursuer could expect,
unless @ was able to ambush the agent first, was that the agent wanted
information enough to use a non-lethal form of attack or defense--until
@ learned enough to satisfy @'s curiosity, at least.

But Nevan was able to put the hazards of his mission in the back of his
mind while he caught up on news from home. His first son, with the
lady Dallas, was doing well in his warrior training, though both he and
his half-brother--Nevan's with the lady Morna, who looked more than a
little smug, telling him--were giving Sean and Ellen fits trying to
keep up. Nevan couldn't help laughing; Sean and Ellen had fostered