on

a trash pile. The two went on in the opposite direction, the woman carrying the folded length of tapestry she’d coveted. Their minds had been provided with a grim but plausible account of how she’d come by it and the bloodstained expensive clothing she now wore.
Telzey stopped at a nearby store she’d learned about from them. The store paid cash for anything salable; and when she left it a few minutes later, it had the Elaigar knife and she had a pocketful of Tinokti coins. It wasn’t much money but enough for her immediate needs. An hour later, she’d rented a room above a small store for a week, locked the door, and unpacked the few items she’d picked up. One of them was a recorder. She turned it on, stretched out on the narrow bed.
It was high time. Part of her mind had been called upon to do more than was healthy for it in these hours, and it was now under noticeable strain. There were flickerings