Aline’s face was white and tense in the red light that streamed into the room. “No,” she whispered.

“Yes,” said Flandry grimly. “It’s the only answer.”

“But telepathy — everyone knows its limitations—”

Flandry nodded. “The mental patterns of different races are so alien that a telepath who can sense them has to learn a different ‘language’ for every species — in fact, for every individual among non-telepathic peoples, whose minds, lacking mutual contact, develop purely personal thought-types. Even then it’s irregular and unreliable. I’ve never let myself be studied by any telepath not on our side, so I’d always considered myself safe.

“But Chereion is a very old planet. Its people have the reputation among the more superstitious Merseians of being sorcerers. Actually, of course, it’s simply that they’ve discovered certain things about the nervous system which nobody else suspects yet. Somehow, Aycharaych must be able to detect some underlying resonance-pattern common to all intelligent beings.

“I’m sure he can only read surface thoughts, those in the immediate consciousness. Otherwise he’d have found out so much from all the Terrans with whom he must have had contact that Merseia would be ruling Sol by now. But that’s bad enough!”

Aline said drearily, “No wonder he spared your life; you’ve become the most valuable man on his side!”

“And not a thing I can do about it,” said Flandry. “He sees me every day. I don’t know what the range of his mind is — probably only a few meters; it’s known that all mental pulses are weak and fade rapidly with distance. But in any case, every time he meets me he skims my mind, reads all my plans — I just can’t help thinking about them all the time — and takes action to forestall them.”

“We’ll have to get the Imperial scientists to work on a thought screen.”

“Of course. But that doesn’t help us now.”

“Couldn’t you just avoid him, stay in your rooms—”

“Sure. And become a complete cipher. I have to get around, see my agents and the rulers of Betelgeuse, learn facts and keep my network operating. And every single thing I learn is just so much work done for Aycharaych — with no effort on his part.” Flandry puffed a cigaret into lighting and blew nervous clouds of smoke. “What to do, what to do?”

“Whatever we do,” said Aline, “it has to be fast. The Sartaz is getting more and more cool toward our people. While we blunder and fail, Aycharaych is working — bribing, blackmailing, influencing one key official after another. We’ll wake up some fine morning to find ourselves under arrest and Betelgeuse the loyal ally of Merseia.”

“Fine prospect,” said Flandry bitterly.

The waning red sunlight streamed through his windows, throwing pools of dried blood on the floor. The palace was quiet, the nobles resting after the hunt, the servants scurrying about preparing the night’s feast. Flandry looked around at the weird decorations, at the unearthly light and the distorted landscape beyond the windows. Strange world under a strange sun, and himself the virtual prisoner of its alien and increasingly hostile people. He had a sudden wild feeling of being trapped.

“I suppose I should be spinning some elaborate counterplot,” he said hopelessly. “And then, of course, I’ll have to go down to the banquet and let Aycharaych read every detail of it — every little thing I know, laid open to his eyes because I just can’t suppress my own thoughts—”

Aline’s eyes widened, and her slim hand tightened over his. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s your idea?”

“Oh — nothing, Dominic, nothing.” She smiled. “I have some direct contact with Sol and—”

“You never told me that.”

“No reason for you to know it. I was just wondering if I should report this new trouble or not. Galaxy knows how those muddle-headed bureaucrats will react to the news. Probably yank us back and cashier us for incompetence.”

She leaned closer and her words came low and urgent. “Go find Aycharaych, Dominic. Talk to him, keep him busy, don’t let him come near me to interfere. He’ll know what you’re doing, naturally, but he won’t be able to do much about it if you’re as clever a talker as they say. Make some excuse for me tonight, too, so I don’t have to attend the banquet — tell them I’m sick or something. Keep him away from me!”

“Sure,” he said with a little of his old spirit. “But whatever you’re hatching in that lovely head, be quick about it. He’ll get at you mighty soon, you know.”

He got up and left. She watched him go, with a dawning smile on her lips.

Flandry was more than a little drunk when the party ended. Wine flowed freely at a Betelgeusean banquet, together with music, food, and dancing girls of every race present. He had enjoyed himself — in spite of everything — most of all, he admitted, he’d enjoyed talking to Aycharaych. The being was a genius of the first order in almost every field, and it had been pleasant to forget the dreadfully imminent catastrophe for a while.

He entered his chambers. Aline stood by a little table, and the muted light streamed off her unbound hair and the shimmering robe she wore. Impulsively, he kissed her.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said. “It was nice of you to wait for me.”

She didn’t leave for her own quarters. Instead, she held out one of the ornate goblets on the table. “Have a nightcap, Dominic,” she invited.

“No, thanks. I’ve had entirely too many.”

“For me.” She smiled irresistibly. He clinked glasses with her and let the dark wine go down his throat.

It had a peculiar taste, and suddenly he felt dizzy, the room wavered and tilted under him. He sat down on his bed until it had passed, but there was an — oddness — in his head that wouldn’t go away.

“Potent stuff,” he muttered.

“We don’t have the easiest job in the world,” said Aline softly. “We deserve a little relaxation.” She sat down beside him. “Just tonight, that’s all we have. Tomorrow is another day, and a worse day.”

He would never have agreed before, his nature was too cool and self-contained, but now it was all at once utterly reasonable. He nodded.

“And you love me, you know,” said Aline.

And he did.

Much later, she leaned close against him in the dark, her hair brushing his cheek, and whispered urgently: “Listen, Dominic, I have to tell you this regardless of the consequences; you have to be prepared for it.”

He stiffened with a return of the old tension. Her voice went on, a muted whisper in the night: “I’ve contacted Sol by courier robot and gotten in touch with Fenross. He has brains, and he saw at once what must be done. It’s a poor way, but the only way.

“The fleet is already bound for Betelgeuse. The Merseians think most of our strength is concentrated near Llynathawr, but that’s just a brilliant piece of deception — Fenross’ work. Actually, the main body is quite near, and they’ve got a new energy screen that’ll let them slip past the Betelgeusean cordon without being detected. The night after tomorrow, a strong squadron will land in Gunazar Valley , in the Borthudians, and establish a beachhead. A detachment will immediately move to occupy the capital and capture the Sartaz and his court.”

Flandry lay rigid with shock. “But this means war!” he strangled. “Merseia will strike at once, and we’ll have to fight Betelgeuse too.”

“I know. But the Imperium has decided we’ll have a better chance this way. Otherwise, it looks as if Betelgeuse will go to the enemy by default.

“It’s up to us to keep the Sartaz and his court from suspecting the truth till too late. We have to keep them here at the palace. The capture of the leaders of an absolute monarchy is always a disastrous blow. Fenross and Walton think Betelgeuse will surrender before Merseia can get here.