"Paragraph. As may be, an armload of books that could have dried up Reno, Nevada, and Lake Superior in one afternoon, then switched off Niagara Falls as an-"

Athene interrupted herself: "The presence of Doctors Harshaw and Hubert is urgently requested in the Main Lounge."

Lazarus opened one eye. "Not enough, Teena. I feel no urgency. Who? Why?"

"Why': To buy you each a drink. 'Who': Doctor Hazel Stone."

"That's different. Tell her we'll be there as quick as I can clean up about five minutes of business."

"I've told her. Pappy, you lost me a bet. You let me think that nothing could stir you out of that hammock-"

"It's not a hammock."

"-because you were giving this convention, not attending it."

"I said I had no plans to attend the plenary sessions. I am not 'giving' this convention other than free rental on the land for the Big Top. Tamara says we'll make expenses, Hilda thinks we might net a little, give or take a milliard or two. I made you no promises. If you had bothered to ask, I would have told you that Hazel Stone hasn't lost a bet since Jess Willard knocked out Jack Johnson. How much did you lose?"

"None of your business! Pappy, you give me a pain in what I lack."

"I love you, too, dear. Give me printouts on star guests and latest revisions of convention program." Lazarus added, "Minerva, you're not armed. Teena, don't let her stir out of the house unarmed."

"Lazarus, do I really need to? Tamara isn't armed."

"Tamara has a concealed weapon. Some of the most bloodthirsty people in Known Space are attending this convention. Female authors. Critics. Harlan. Both Heinleins. I not only insist that you be armed but I hope you stick close to someone fast on the draw. Justin. Zeb. Mordan Claude. Galahad. Better yet, stay home. Teena can display any of it here better than you can see it through mixing with rabble. Belay that. I've no more business telling you to be careful than you have telling me. Getting yourself mugged, raped, or killed are among the privileges you opted when you decided to go the protein route. I spoke selfishly, dear; forgive me."

"Lazarus, I will be careful. Galahad invited me to tag along."

"Perfect. Teena, where's Galahad?"

"Hazel Stone's table."

"Good! Stick with us, Mm. But armed."

Lazarus suddenly became aware of something cold against his left kidney. He looked cautiously to the left and down, noted that it was: a) a lady's burner, small but lethal (of that he was certain as he collected a royalty on this model); b) the dial showed full charge; c) the intensity setting was "overkill"; and d) it was unlocked.

"Minerva," he said gently, "will you please move that thing-slowly!-away from my hide and point it at the ground, then lock it, then tell me where you had it? You came out of the pool dressed in nothing but long wet hair. You are now dressed in long dry hair. How? And no wisecracks; in your case I know better."

"Forfeit. Kiss."

"Go ahead and kill me."

"Stingy." Minerva removed the weapon, locked it, and it disappeared.

Lazarus blinked. "Jubal, did you see that?"

"Yes. I mean, 'No, I did not see where Minerva hid that equalizer."

"Doctor Jubal, by 'equalizer' did you mean this?" Suddenly the lady's weapon (locked, Lazarus noted at once) was in her right hand. "Or this?" Its twin was in her left hand.

Jubal and Lazarus looked at each other, looked back at Minerva. She now appeared to be unarmed and totally lacking in any means of hiding a weapon. Lazarus said, "Jubal, are there days when you feel obsolete?"

"Correction, Lafe. There occasionally comes a day when I do not feel obsolete. They've been scarce lately." Harshaw took a deep breath, exhaled. "I grok I should have let Mike train me. But this incident has made up my mind for me; I am going to seek the services of Doctor Ishtar. Minerva, are you going to show us how you did that?"

"Or are you going to let us die of frustration?" added Lazarus.

"This?" Again she appeared as a two-gun woman, with each of her companions covered. This time she handed them over, one to each. "Have one, they're good"-and peeled the foil off a third, a candy bar molded to look like a purse weapon. "Crunchy, but mostly shokolada. 'Chocolate'? Mostly chocolate."

"Minerva, that burner you shoved into my ribs was not a candy bar."

"It was-" She stopped to munch and swallow. "Shouldn't talk with my mouth full." She licked at some chocolate clinging to the candy wrapping. "It was this." Her slender left hand gripped what Lazarus quickly ascertained was a weapon, not candy.

Minerva rolled her candy wrapping into a lump, looked around for the nearest oubliette, spotted it and tossed the discard-missed it; it bounced against the side. She retrieved the wad of waste, put it into the trash receiver. In the course of this the weapon disappeared.

"Lazarus," she said seriously, "when you were training me, you told me that I should never tell anyone how a concealed weapon was concealed. Are you suspending this rule?"

Lazarus looked baffled. Jubal said, "Old friend, I suggest that we die of frustration. The girl is right."

"I agree," Lazarus answered, with a sour look. "All but the word 'girl.' This baggage is half a century old as protein, at least two centuries older than that as the smartest computer ever built. Minerva, I remove all restrictions. You are able to protect yourself."

"Father, I don't want to be turned loose!"

"It's been thirty years since you last called me Father. Very well, you aren't 'turned loose'-but from here on you protect me. You're smarter than I am; we both know it. Keep your weapon secrets to yourself; ,I always have."

"But you taught it to me. Not the details, the method. You attributed it to Master Poe. The Purloined Letter Method, you called it."

Lazarus stopped short. "If I understand you, I'm looking at your holdout this instant but can't see it."

Into her off ear Athene whispered, "Don't give him any more hints. Lazarus isn't as stupid as he looks and neither is Fatso." Minerva subvocalized, "Okay,

Sis," and said aloud, "I find no fault with your logic, sir. Would you like another candy bar?"

Fortunately the subject was changed by one of Athene's extensions handing to Lazarus printouts: revised programs for each, and a fresh report for Lazarus on his star guests. They continued walking through the east peristyle of the new wing, while reading. Lazarus asked, "Teena, anything new on Isaac, Robert, or Arthur?"

"Negative, zero, nix."

"Damn. Let me know soonest. Jubal, here's an odd one. A doctor's degree was not a requirement for the limited list-many thousands but nevertheless most strictly limited-of people invited to subscribe to this convention. But most do have a doctor's degree or their cultural equivalent, or higher-Worsel, for example. I have a much shorter star list of people I wanted to see again- Betsy and Patricia and Buz and Joan, et al.-and people I wanted to meet... most of whom I had considered fictional until Jake's Gee-Whizzer opened the other universes to us. You, for example."

"And you, sir. Lafe, I considered you to be a spectacularly unlikely piece of fiction... until I received your invitation. It took some extraordinary convincing even then by your courier....ecause it meant missing an important date."

"Who was my courier?"

"Undine."

"You never stood a chance. Two bits to a lead nickel she sold it to Gillian and Dawn, then all of your staff, before she seduced you. What was this date I caused you to miss?"

Harshaw looked embarrassed. "Under the Rose?"

"Under the-' No! Jubal, I promise to keep secrets only through evil motives, my own. If you don't wish to tell me, then don't tell me."

"Eh- Damn it, remember if possible that I prefer not to have it discussed....hen do as you bloody please; you will anyhow-I always have. Lafe, when I turned fifty, I made myself a solemn vow that, if I held together that long, I would close shop the day I turned one hundred. I had made all rational preparations to do so, including distributing my worldly goods without allowing any of it to reach the sticky fingers of publicans... when your invitation arrived... five days before my hundredth birthday." Harshaw looked sheepish. "So here I am. Senile, obviously. Even though I arranged years back for other physicians, expert gerontologists, to check me regularly, with the idea of closing shop sooner if indicated."