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were lit from within, and their colorful neo-lucite walls glowed green, rose, red, orange, and blue, a mobile circlet of gemstones. Leiko adored them and took them every chance she got. They made Jimson nervous as they careened through the air, but he rode them once in a while just to look down and see the magical city, blue, rose, red.
    Underground ran the magnetos, and overhead the aircruisers commanded the skies. Shuttleships would take you to Nexus' three moons, if you wanted to go there. To go farther—you went through the Hype.
    They walked on the Bridge for a while. Despite his height and his deformities, Ysao moved like a dancer or an acrobat. It was a peculiar and improbable gait. Now, how can I ask about it? Jimson wondered. Casually he said, "It must be annoying, being too tall to reach the handrail."
    Ysao shrugged. "My balance is good. I've been to a lot of other worlds, and that teaches you to stay on your feet no matter where you are. And I'm an engineer; I trained to work in freefall."
    Jimson tried, and failed, to imagine himself floating, falling through space.
    "Want to eat?" asked Ysao suddenly. "I'm hungry."
    "Sure."
    "There's a place I know—" he pointed to the Bridge ramp just ahead of them. "Let's go down and hit the movalongs for a minute." Jimson followed him. He changed bands twice, and then abruptly swung off and led the way into an alleyway. "We're being followed," he said. "We were followed all the way here."
    "Followed?" Jimson said stupidly.
    "I felt it when you first came into Rin's. Somebody there started paying close attention to you. It's pretty obvious—like turning on a light. I've been trying to pick out who it is, that's why I played on the movalongs, but whoever it is can shield pretty damn good. Not sure that it's deliberate, but I think it is." His heavy brows came together. "You in any kind of trouble?"
    "Not that I know of," said Jimson. He was not going to insult Ysao by asking if he was sure. He looked around. The narrow alleyway seemed suddenly ominous. Ysao was leaning back against the building, humming, eyes closed. They snapped open.
    "Got it," he said. "Come on."
    They crossed a square. Jimson couldn't help looking behind them. No one was following them—now where the hell was Ysao? "Down here," said a deep voice. There was a narrow flight of steps. Gingerly, leaning against the wall, Jimson followed him down.
    "What are we doing here?" he asked.
    Here was a long room. Tables, chairs, a bar—and the familiar sound of drumming coming from somewhere. A back room, like Rin's. Jimson began to relax. Then he felt the thought floating up like dark smoke from the room. We don't like strangers , it warned. Go away. It was impossible to mistake, and there was a mind behind it.
    If Ysao felt the communication, he was unaffected. "Come on," he said again. He led the way across the floor to a small triangular table. There was only one person at the table; she was looking down, nodding, and Jimson wondered if she was stoned or asleep.
    Her head came up. Jimson was conscious of a pale face, and then of dark eyes. Only the eyes. He could not look away from them. The woman was speaking to Ysao. "All right," she was saying, "I'll find him for you. Go sit down."
    Jimson let Ysao take him to a chair. He rubbed his face with his hands, hard, trying to shake off the feeling of having been swallowed up—devoured. He looked at Ysao. The giant was watching him apologetically. "You all right?"
    "I'll manage. Where the hell are we?"
    "This is Crow's," Ysao said. "That was Crow. She's going to locate our tailer. Here, drink this." He pushed a glass across the table. "You'll feel better. If I'd told you, you would have tried to block, and then it would have been worse."
    Jimson tossed the drink down. "Her intentions were friendly, is that what you're trying to say?" he said. "I'll take your word for it."
    He looked around. Crow's was not, at initial glance, an elaborate a place as Rin's, seeming