ery sound, but she needed more than
one chance to try it in. She and Gaya sat down at another table, with a
different game, where you could get in for fifty credits. In eight
minutes Trigger lost a hundred and twenty and quit.

Gaya won seventy-five.

It had been an interesting day, but with some unsatisfactory aspects to
it.

She hauled the solidopic out from under the pillow again.

"And you," she told Brule warningly, "seem to be playing around with
some very bad company, my friend! Just luck I'm coming back to see you
don't get into serious trouble!"

* * * * *

She'd showered and was studying the black gown's effect before the
mirror when the ComWeb chimed.

"Permission for audio intrusion granted," Trigger said casually without
looking around. She was getting used to this sort of thing.

"Thank you, Miss Drellgannoth," said the ComWeb. "A package from the
Beldon Shop has been deposited in your mail transmitter." It signed off.

Beldon Shop? Trigger frowned, laid the gown across a chair and went over
to the transmitter receptacle. She opened it. A flat small green
package, marked "The Styles of Beldon," slid out. A delicate scent came
trailing along with it. A small white envelope clung to the package's
top.

Inside the envelope was a card. It read:

"A peace offering. Would you wear it to dinner in token of forgiveness?
Very humbly, Q."

Trigger found herself smiling and wiped off the smile. Then she let it
come back. No point in staying grim with the character! She pulled the
package tab and it opened up. There were three smaller packages inside.

She opened the first of these and for a moment gazed doubtfully at four
objects like green leaf buds, each the size of her thumb. She laid them
down and opened the second package. This one contained a pair of very
fancy high heels, green and pale gold.

Out of the third flowed something which was, at all events,
extraordinarily beautiful material of some kind. Velvety green ...
shimmeringly alive. Its touch was a caress. Its perfume was like soft
whispers. Lifting one end with great care between thumb and finger,
Trigger let it unfold itself to the floor.

Tilting her head to the side, she studied the shimmering featherweight
cat's cradle of jewel-green ribbons that hung there.

Wear it?

What _was_ it?

She reflected, found her dressing gown in one of the suitcases, slipped
it on, sat down before the ComWeb with