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increased his attraction for her. “What did they say when you got my message?”
    “They were surprised. Then my father said that a Prime would remember a promise.”
    “Ah!” Her grin was mischievous. “So your family didn’t know you had applied to me directly?”
    Afra shook his head, unable, however, to break eye contact. So he gave a rueful shrug and attempted a self-deprecating smile.
    “Aren’t you supposed to take up a position at Capella Tower?”
    “When Ementish retires.”
    Her gray eyes danced. “And that fills you with so much elation that you had to give me first refusal?”
    “Capella is a good planet . . .”
    “Goody good, I’d’ve said . . .”
    Afra cocked an eyebrow at her qualification. “When we took the Tower course, I met Talents from other systems.” He shrugged again, not willing to belittle his home world.
    “And you wanted to see more of the galaxy?”
    “One doesn’t see much of the galaxy as a T-4 in a Tower, but I thought that it might be . . . challenging to spend some time elsewhere.”
    She gave him a curious look. “What are those odd shapes in your carisak?”
    It was the last question he expected of her, but he also realized that the Rowan would be unpredictable.
    “Origami. The ancient art of paper folding.” Not at all certain he should act brashly, he ’ported his favorite swan—in a silvery white paper—into his hand and offered it to her.
    With a wondering smile on her face, she took it from him, turning the bird this way and that, delicately opening its wings.
    “How charming! And you just
fold
paper into that shape.”
    “What’s your favorite color?” he asked.
    “Red. Crimson red!”
    He extracted a red sheet from his supply and, when he had it in his hands, he rapidly folded a flower, which he offered her with a little bow.
    “Well, that’s not a mental exercise at all, is it?” she said, examining the flower. “Flip, flop and you’ve got a small masterpiece. Is that what people do on Capella for entertainment?”
    Afra shook his head. “A freighter chief named Damitcha taught me—while Goswina was on Altair. I missed her, you see. Origami helped.”
    The Rowan’s expression altered to one of compassionate apology—and he felt the lightest mental touch, reinforcing it.
    “She missed you, too, Afra. I heard all about you.”
    “And you remembered your promise.”
    “Not quite, Afra,” she said, propelling herself toward her chair and whirling around to seat herself. “Because there’s no course on Altair anymore and you’re already trained. So let’s see if Goswina was right, that our minds will complement each other in the running of this Tower!”
    She let him hear what she then said.
Reidinger, I’ve found me another T-4. Afra of Capella. He folds paper! Which is at least original. And he keeps holos of barque cats.
    So she’d seen those, too, in her mental sorting of his belongings.
    ROWAN!
    Afra winced as the bellow singed his mind edges. The Rowan grinned mischievously at him and signaled that he wasn’t to mind the noisiness.
    Well, he can’t be any worse than the one who was certain that Jupiter would fall on her. Or that absolute dork from Betelgeuse who couldn’t take the least bit of teasing. Much less that martinet you thought was just the sort to steady me while I was learning my job! No, this time, Reidinger
, I
get to pick one. And that’s that!
    Then she winked at Afra. “I had an illegal barque cat once. I named him Rascal and he was, but the ungrateful feline deserted me on the liner that brought me here.” She gave a little shrug and a wry grin. “Not that I blamed him, the way I carried on.”
    “They hear us, you know,” Afra said, thinking that a safe enough remark.
    She looked surprised. “I suspected Rascal did. We enjoyed a friendly empathy, but has one spoken to you?”
    “Hmmmmm-rowwww!”
    The Rowan threw back her head and laughed with delight.
    “You’re one up on me then,