Blade walked over to the wardrobe. It looked brand-new and was made of something like pale gray plastic with a pebbled finish. When he was three feet away, the front of the wardrobe quietly folded itself up. Inside he saw his clothing and gear, all of it cleaned and hung on hooks as neatly as a trained valet could have done. A quick examination told Blade that nothing was missing except his bow and arrows. Even the knife and the spare sword he'd tied to his pack were there.

He began to wonder if he were a prisoner at all, or some sort of guest. He decided the only way to find out was to search out his captors-or hosts. He also wanted to find Twana. If the Wall-people hadn't killed him, they probably hadn't killed her, but she might be half out of her wits with fear over actually being in the hands of the Watchers. He wanted to calm her, and when he'd calmed her, they could start planning what to do next-including escaping, if that turned out to be necessary.

On the opposite side of the room from the bed was a pointed archway fifteen feet high and ten feet wide. Blade could see a lighted corridor beyond it. He pulled on his clothes and hid the knife in one boot, but left his sword behind. The sword was more likely to offend the Wall-people than protect him from their weapons.

Blade was almost to the archway when there was a sudden metallic rattling and squealing, and another robot entered the room. This one was about the same shape as the Watcher, but lay on its side instead of standing erect. It had eight wheels instead of an air-cushion fan and no visible arms or weapons. Instead, it had large hatches at either end, and in the middle, what looked like a control panel, with knobs, dials, and winking tights. The robot seemed to detect Blade the moment it entered the room. It rolled rapidly toward him, then stopped with a last squeal of wheels, so close that he could reach out and touch it. Like the Watcher, this robot showed tarnishing, pitting, and dents that suggested hard use and poor maintenance over many years.

As the robot stopped, the hatch at one end sprang open, and a platform rose up out of the robot's interior. On the platform was a tray holding two metal bottles, several covered dishes, tableware, and a pile of napkins. Room service had arrived without even being called!

The logical thing to do with this free meal was to eat it. Blade did so. The bottles contained water and something tasting vaguely like stale beer. He didn't drink much of it. The food was a vegetable soup, cutlets grained like meat but tasting more like tuna fish, more vegetables so heavily salted they all tasted the same, and a sort of custard pie. Blade had eaten better meals, but not usually in prison. He could eat this food for months if he had to.

He finished the meal and was putting the tray back on the platform when the robot suddenly spoke.

«Was it pleasing to the Master?»

The words came out in a dull, heavy, metallic tone. There was so much crackling and buzzing along with it that it was like listening to a radio during a thunderstorm.

Blade replied, speaking as slowly and distinctly as the robot.

«It was good.»

«It is good that the Master is pleased.» The robot started to back away. A thought struck Blade.

«Do you wish to please the Master again?»

«It is an order, to please the Master.»

«Good. Tell me where the-the woman Master who came with me lives.»

The robot sputtered and hissed for so long that Blade thought perhaps he'd asked a question it could not answer. Then the robot's other hatch opened, and what looked like a thin television screen unfolded. A moment later the screen lit up, showing what appeared to be a map of the interior of a building. The robot made a spitting sound, and a sheet of what looked like plastic-coated paper shot out from the top of the screen and fell to the floor.

Blade picked it up. One room was outlined in green, another in red. The robot spoke before he could ask.

«The Master is in the green room. The other Master is in the red room. Is it the Master's wish that they be together?»

Blade was about to say yes, then realized that might make the robot bring Twana to him. He would rather go to her and explore this building on the way.

«The Master will go to the other Master,» he said. «That will please both of us.» The robot made another spitting sound and produced another map. This one had a route from Blade's room to Twana's, marked out with a silver line that seemed to glow faintly. Blade picked up the second map. «This is good. You have pleased us. You may go.» The robot turned about and rolled out of the room.

Spacious living quarters, good food, and now a map that showed him the way to Twana. The mystery of where he was and who had brought him there was growing with every minute. However, finding Twana was still the first thing to do. Blade decided it would be safe to take his sword, took it out of the wardrobe, belted it on, and strode out into the corridor.

The map took him down the corridor, around three successive right-angled turns, then up two flights of stairs. At the second turn Blade found a bathroom, with four large sunken tubs, seven shower stalls, a number of toilets, and two robots watching over it all. The robots were wheeled cones, with four jointed arms at the top and four more spaced equally around the base.

The map now led Blade through a narrow corridor with an arched ceiling and a floor that sloped gently upward. The corridor began to curve around to the left. Blade followed it and abruptly found himself facing one of the armed Watcher robots. In the narrow corridor it looked even bigger and uglier than it had out on the Wall.

The head swiveled toward Blade as the Watcher sensed his presence. He stood where he was, but made no move to disarm himself. The Watcher's reaction should tell him more about whether he was a prisoner or a guest.

The man and the robot stared at each other for several minutes. Each minute seemed like half an hour to Blade. When he was satisfied that the Watcher wasn't simply going to shoot him on the spot, he lowered a hand to the hilt of his sword. Slowly, an inch at a time, he drew the weapon. Then, even more slowly, he raised it to striking position. He was totally alert and ready to drop it if the Watcher showed any reaction at all.

In another minute or two the robot's head began to swivel away from Blade. He let out all the breath he'd been holding and quickly thrust his sword back into the scabbard.

Instantly the Watcher hooted in alarm, and the head swung back toward him, eyes pulsing angrily. Blade froze, with the knowledge that he'd brought himself very close to being killed or stunned. How?

Again man and robot faced each other, and again the robot finally turned its head away. Blade's arms flopped to his side almost of their own weight-and again the Watcher went on the alert. This time it raised all four of its arms and held them out toward Blade. Again Blade did his best to imitate a statue for several hour-long minutes. As he stood, his mind was working furiously.

What had alerted the Watcher? Sheathing his sword and dropping his arms to his sides. Both were movements. What else did they have in common? Another moment of furious thinking, then ….

He'd made both movements quickly. Everything else he'd done slowly. Could that be it? Could the Watcher be programmed to react to fast movements and ignore slow ones?

It made sense. The Watchers might be programmed to deal with primitive people, who would be frightened by them and run in panic, like Twana. More civilized people, like the Watchers' Masters, would not be frightened. They would not run.

At least it was worth an experiment.

Without waiting for the robot to turn its head away, Blade raised his arms above his head-slowly. Then he lowered them to his sides, even more slowly. The Watcher kept its eyes on him, but was silent. Blade drew his sword, held it over his head for a moment, then slowly sheathed it. By the time he was half done, the Watcher was turning its head away again.