«Tides,» Ander said. «We've been watching their, ah, retreat. The Pierson's puppeteers understand tides very well, Beowulf, whether or not they ever had a moon.»

«All right.» I believed him and wasn't surprised.

«By the way, that information is absolutely proprietary —»

«Man with a secret, hah? Even so, I think they were taking a shot at me when they hired me the second time.»

AT THE CORE

I.

I couldn't decide whether to call it a painting, a relief mural, a sculpture, or a hash, but it was the prize exhibit in the art section of the Institute of Knowledge on Jinx. The Kdatlyno must have strange eyes, I thought. My own were watering. The longer I looked at FTLSPACE, the more blurred it got.

I'd tentatively decided that it was supposed to look blurred when a set of toothy jaws clamped gently on my arm. I jumped a foot in the air. A soft, thrilling contralto voice said, «Beowulf Shaeffer, you are a spendthrift.»

That voice would have made a singer's fortune. And I thought I recognized it — but it couldn't be; that one was on We Made It, light-years distant. I turned.

The puppeteer had released my arm. It went on: «And what do you think of Hrodenu?»

«He's ruining my eyes.»

«Naturally. The Kdatlyno are blind to all but radar. FTLSPACE is not meant to be seen but to be touched. Run your tongue over it.»

«My tongue? No, thanks.» I tried running my hand over it. If you want to know what it felt like, hop a ship for Jinx; the thing's still there. I flatly refuse to describe the sensation.

The puppeteer cocked its head dubiously. «I'm sure your tongue is more sensitive. No guards are nearby.»

«Forget it. You know, you sound just like the regional president of General Products on We Made It.»

«It was he who sent me your dossier, Beowulf Shaeffer. No doubt we had the same English teacher. I am the regional president on Jinx, as you no doubt recognized from my mane.»