One of his cats, an orange torn, had ceased washing and was now staring at Luckman with its tongue absurdly protruding. I'll take you, Luckman decided. You can provide me with your magic protection. You and your—what was the old belief?—your nine or ten lives.

"Put your geschlumer tongue in," he ordered the cat peevishly. The cat irritated him; it was so ignorant of fate, of reality.

Extending his hand, Dave Mutreaux said, "It's good to see you again, fellow Bindman Luckman, and maybe I can be of use to you some other time. I'm heading back to Kansas now." He glanced at his watch. "It's getting late; almost time to begin this evening's play."

Luckman said, as he shook hands with the pre-cog, "Should I start this soon with Pretty Blue Fox? Tonight?"

"Why not?"

"Seeing the future must give you a hell of a lot of confidence," Luckman said, complainingly.

"It is useful," Mutreaux agreed.

"I wish I had it on my trip," Luckman said, and then he thought, I'm tired of catering to my superstitions. I don't need any Psionic power to protect me; I've got a lot more than that.

Sid Mosk, entering the office, glanced from Luckman to

Mutreaux and then back at his employer again. "You're going?" he said.

"That's right." Luckman nodded. "Pack my things for me and load them into an auto-auto; I intend to set up a temporary residence in Berkeley before The Game begins this evening. So I'll feel comfortable; you know, as if I be-long."

"Will do," Sid Mosk agreed, making a note of the request.

Before I go to bed tonight, Luckman realized", I'll have sat in with Pretty Blue Fox, will have begun almost a new Me ... I wonder what it'll bring?

Once more, fervently, he wished for Dave Mutreaux' talent.

IN THE condominium apartment in Carmel which the Bluff-playing group of Bindmen, Pretty Blue Fox, owned jointly, Mrs. Freya Gaines, making herself comfortable, not sitting too close to her husband Clem, watched the others arrive one by one.

Bill Calumine, sauntering aggressively through the open door in his loud sports shirt and tie, nodded to her and Clem. "Greetings." His wife and Bluff-partner Arlene followed after him, a preoccupied frown of worry on her rather wrinkled face. Arlene had taken advantage of the Hynes operation somewhat later in life than had the others.

"Hi ya," Walt Remington said gloomily, glancing furtively around as he entered with his alert, bright-eyed wife Janice. "I understand we've got a new member," he said in a self-conscious, uncomfortable voice; guilt was written all over him as he shakily removed his coat and laid it over a chair.

"Yes," Freya said to him. And you know why, she thought.

Now the sandy-haired baby of the group, Stuart Marks, put in his appearance, and with him his tall, masculine,

no-nonsense wife Yule, wearing a black suede leather jacket and jeans. "I was listening to Nats Katz," Stuart said, "and he said—"

"He was correct," Clem Gaines answered. "Lucky Luck-man is already on the West Coast, setting up residence in Berkeley."

Carrying a bottle of whiskey wrapped up in a paper bag, Silvanus Angst strolled in, smiling broadly at everyone, in a good mood as always. And immediately after him came swarthy Jack Blau, his dark eyes flickering as he looked at everyone in the room; he jerked his head in greeting but did not speak.

Jean, his wife, greeted Freya. "You might be interested ... we looked into the business of getting Pete a new wife; we were with Straw Man Special for two whole hours, today."

"Any luck?" Freya asked, trying to make her voice sound casual.

"Yes," Jean Blau said. "There's a woman named Carol Holt coming over from Straw Man Special, this evening; she should be here any time."

"What's she like?" Freya said preparing herself.

Jean said, "Intelligent."

"I mean," Freya said, "what does she look like?"

"Brown hair. Small. I really can't describe her; why don't you just wait?" Jean glanced toward the door, and there stood Pete Garden; he had come in and was standing listening.

"Hi," Freya said to him. "They found you a wife."

Pete said to Jean, "Thanks." His voice was gruff.

"Well, you must have a partner to play," Jean pointed out.

"I'm not sore," Pete said. Like Silvanus Angst, he carried a bottle wrapped up in a paper bag; he now set it down on the sideboard next to Silvanus' and took off his coat. "In fact I'm glad," he said.

Silvanus giggled and said, "What Pete's worried about is the man who got hold of the Berkeley deed, isn't it, Pete? Lucky Luckman, they say." Short and plump, Silvanus wad-

dled over to Freya and stroked her hair. "You worried, too?"

Carefully disengaging Angst's fingers from her hair, Freya said, "I certainly am. It's a terrible thing."

"It is," Jean Blau agreed. "We'd better discuss it before Luckman gets here; there must be something we can do."

"Refuse to seat him?" Angst said. "Refuse to play against him?"

Freya said, "No vital deeds should be offered during the play. His getting a toe-hold here in California is bad enough; if he gains more—"

"We mustn't permit it," Jack Blau agreed. He glared at Walt Remington. "How could you do it? We ought to expel you. And you're such a jackass you probably haven't got any idea what you've done."

"He understands," Bill Calumine said. "He didn't intend to; he sold to brokers and they right away—"

"That's no excuse," Jack Blau said.

Clem Gaines said, "One thing we can do, we can insist that he submit to an EEG. I took the Liberty of bringing a machine along. That might bar him. We ought to be able to bar him somehow."

"Should we check with U. S. Cummings and see if it has any idea?" Jean Blau asked. "I know it's contrary to their intentions to have one man dominate both coasts; they were upset when Luckman pushed Joe Schilling out of New York City, in fact—I remember that distinctly."

"I'd prefer not to turn to the vugs," Bill Calumine said. He looked around at the group. "Anybody else have any ideas? Speak up."

There was an uneasy silence.

"Aw come on," Stuart Marks said. "Can't we just—" He gestured. "You know. Scare him physically. There're six men, here. Against one."

After a pause Bill Calumine said, "I'm for that. A little force. At least we can agree to combine against him during The Game itself. And if-"

He broke off. Someone had come in.

Rising to her feet, Jean Blau said, "Folks, this is the new player who's come to us from Straw Man Special, Carol

Holt." Jean advanced to take the girl by the arm and lead her into the room. "Carol, this is Freya and Clem Gaines, Jean and Jack Blau, Silvanus Angst, Walter and Janice Remington, Stuart Marks, Yule Marks, and over here is your Bluff-partner, Pete Garden. Pete, this is Carol Holt; we spent two hours picking her out for you."

"And I'm Mrs. Angst," Mrs. Angst said, entering the room after Carol. "My, but this is an exciting night. Two new people, I understand."

Freya studied Carol Holt and wondered what Pete's reaction was; he showed nothing on the surface, only polite formality as he greeted the girl. He seemed abstracted tonight. Perhaps he hadn't entirely recovered from the shock of the night before. She herself had not, certainly.

The girl from Straw Man Special, Freya decided, was not too terribly bright-looking. And yet she appeared to have personality; her hair was nicely bound up in the currently-modish ratnest knot and her eye make-up was well-applied. Carol wore low-heeled slippers, no stockings, and a madras wrap-around skirt which made her seem, Freya thought, a trifle hefty at the midsection. But she had nice fair skin, and her voice, when she spoke, was pleasant enough.

Even so, Freya concluded, Pete won't go for her; she's just not his kind. And what is Pete's kind? she asked herself. Me? No, not herself either. Their marriage had been one-sided; she had felt all the deep emotions and Pete had simply been gloomy, anticipating in some vague way the calamity which would end their relationship: the loss of Berkeley.