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city peace right before their eyes, they could not cross weapons before her to take her for questioning. The neatness of her newly purchased clothes were those of one who could be a messenger for some House Merchant sent on a private errand where a house badge would be an advertisement her master was not prepared to allow.
    “Gentle-homo—”
    It had been one of Simsa’s private employments to learn what she could of other tongues. She could speak with the same fluency that she could mouth the Burrowers’ coarse speech, the tongue of an upper river-man and two distinct seafaring dialects. Now she recognized off-world words—a salutation. But that it was addressed to her was a surprise which took her a breath or two to realize. It had been she who had been seeking to contact the starmen, she did not expect any of them to come seeking her. Nor was it one of the five who had climbed the ramp ahead of her, rather this was the stranger who come up town earlier with the officers.
    He was looking straight at her though and the Guild guards had taken several steps away as if to pay him deference. Now, he pointed to the zorsal and said haltingly, in the speech of the merchants of the upper town: “You are the one Waremaster Gathar spoke of—the trainer of zorsals. I thought I would have to hunt far for you—yet here you have come as if I called and you heard.”
    Gathar, Simsa thought swiftly—why? Zass shifted on her shoulder and grunted. The zorsal’s antennae had unrolled to the farthest extent the girl had ever seen happen save when the creature was on night guard. Both of them pointed directly at the off-worlder as if the creature listened to more than Simsa heard, something other than those halting words.
    “Will you give me of your time, dealer in old things—” the starman was continuing. “There are questions of import which mean very much to me—some of which you may be able to answer.”
    Simsa was wary. In her new clothing, she was sure she looked more boy than woman, and she did not believe that this was some ceremonious route to name a bed-price. If Gathar had mentioned her in connection with old things . . . Her fingers tightened about her swinging sleeve, weighted as it was with the two finds she had kept to tempt trade. All knew that the starmen were largely credulous about such discoveries and they could sometimes be bargained into such gains of trade as no one but the simple-witted here would strike hands over. She could not understand why Gathar had spoken of her at all. Which meant caution until she found out that much about his dealings. No one gave away even a smell of profit if he could help. However, if this starman had come to her because of the Old One’s bits and pieces, she would make the best of what she had left. Now, she nodded abruptly. Let him believe that she knew less of any save up town speech; such small precautions could sometimes lead to profit.
    Taking her nod for assent, he looked about over his shoulder and gestured towards the Street of Cull Winds leading off straightly to the left, down which the coming shadows crept out from several darkened patches between three or four welcoming door lamps of inns. It was not the best Kuxortal had to offer any traveler, still this was much better than the hostel she had thought to try. If nothing else, she would gain a full belly out of this meeting; the starman could readily be maneuvered into paying for the food that he would offer out of courtesy before he would state his true reason for seeking her out.
     
     

3
     
     
     
    The room was low and dark. Along one wall, well-worn curtains hid a number of booths. Some flimsy lengths were drawn, and Simsa, in passing, heard the squeals of women, once the drunken brawling of a riverman’s song. She stepped back to allow the starman to lead the way, her sense of caution fully aroused. On her shoulder, Zass muzzled against her neck, thrusting snout right under her chin, antennae again