"Understandable," Aikman nodded. "Well, then, whenever you're ready—"

"Oh, and Mr. Benedar will be coming, too," Randon said blandly, gesturing a hand toward me. "I'm sorry; I've been remiss, haven't I? Mr. Aikman, Dr. DeMont—Gilead Raca Benedar."

It was a game on Randon's part, of course—nothing more or less than a way to suddenly spring my name and Watcher status on them and force a reaction. Certainly he had no interest in trying to carouse through Alabaster City's night life with someone he considered a religious fanatic hovering disdainfully in the background. My own interest in playing that role was equally microscopic.

But Aikman and DeMont didn't know that. "Mr. Benedar," Aikman said in acknowledgment, his formal stiffness turning abruptly rigid. "Mr. Kelsey-Ramos... with due respect for your position, I'd like to suggest that it would be best if your associate remains behind."

"Oh?" Randon asked, almost innocently. "Is there a problem, Mr. Aikman?"

Aikman locked eyes with him. "To put it bluntly, sir, Watchers aren't especially welcome in Alabaster City."

Randon met his gaze steadily. "I understood the Watchers have a settlement here on Whitecliff."

"I'm sure he'd be welcome there," Aikman countered. "But not anywhere else on the planet."

For a long moment the room was silent; silent with heavy discomfort from DeMont, with almost calm calculation from Randon, with black hatred from Aikman. I lie surrounded by lions, greedy for human prey...

An icy shiver ran up my back. I'd encountered hatred before—Watchers who left their settlements couldn't avoid running into it these days. We'd been barely tolerated before Aaron Balaam darMaupine and his followers had come on the scene; now, two decades later, feeling against us was still running high. There was