air and shaving stubble. Ser Perth was also interested
in that, it seemed, since his eyes followed that part of the operation.
Dave frowned, and then relaxed. After all, this was a hospital barber
shop, and they probably had some rigid rules about sanitation, though he
hadn't seen much other evidence of such care.

The barber finally removed the cloth with a snap and bowed. "Come again,
sir," he said.

Ser Perth stood up and motioned for Dave to follow. He turned to look in
a mirror, and caught sight of the barber handing the bottles and jars of
waste hair and nail clippings to a girl. He saw only her back, but it
looked like Nema.

Something stirred in his mind then. He'd read something somewhere about
hair clippings and nail parings being used for some strange purpose. And
there'd been something about spittle. But they hadn't collected that. Or
had they? He'd been unconscious long enough for them to have gathered
any amount they wanted. It all had something to do with some kind of
mumbo-jumbo, and....

Ser Perth had led him through the same door by which they'd entered--but
_not_ into the same hallway. Dave's mind dropped the other thoughts as
he tried to cope with the realization that this was another corridor. It
was brightly lit, and there was a scarlet carpet on the floor. Also, it
was a short hall, requiring only a few steps before they came to a
bigger door, elaborately enscrolled. Ser Perth bent before it, and the
door opened silently while he and Dave entered.

The room was large and sparsely furnished. Sitting cross-legged on a
cushion near the door was Nema, juggling something in her hands. It
looked like a cluster of colored threads, partly woven into a rather
garish pattern. On a raised bench between two windows sat the old figure
of Sather Karf, resting his chin on hands that held a staff and staring
at Dave intently.

Dave stopped as the door closed behind him. Sather Karf nodded, as if
satisfied, and Nema tied a complex knot in the threads, then paused
silently.

Sather Karf looked far less well than when Dave had last seen him. He
seemed older and more shriveled, and there was a querulous, pinched
expression in place of the firmness and almost nobility Dave had come to
expect. His old eyes bored into the younger man, and he nodded. His
voice had a faint quaver now. "All right. You're not much to look at,
but you're the best we could find in the Ways we can reach. Come here,
Dave Hanson."

Th