First question: did the parrot only echo the thoughts of the person touching it? Or did the parrot echo every thought nearby?

I remembered how Jerith had responded to my thoughts all evening, like touching me when I was annoyed that he hadn’t tried anything yet. His hand had been in his pocket most of the night, the pocket that held the parrot.

The parrot must echo everyone’s thoughts. And not just the unspoken words; I could sense it broadcasting my emotions too, the outrage growing in me as I realized how Jerith had eavesdropped on my mind. I felt violated. He’d seen me more naked than naked. Hell, who cared about being naked anymore? I’d bared my all three times on Trash and Thrash; by now, half the galaxy had had the chance to count my freckles.

But this... I tried to remember all the thoughts I’d had in Jerith’s company. I tried to recall what shameful things might have passed through my mind...

Jerith had said, “That Kilgoorlie is a spooky guy.”

I wondered what thoughts the Singer had. About me.

I wondered what thoughts Alex had. About me.

And Roland. And Helena. And the roadies and everyone.

But of course it was wrong to eavesdrop on them.

The parrot didn’t resist as I picked it up and stroked its nose. The little animal seemed perfectly content to be held. It nestled into my palm and gave a tiny yawn.

I told myself I would take it back to camp, to prove to the others what the animals could do. Telepathic parrots that echoed people’s thoughts — no one would believe that without proof. Well, Alex probably would; but that was a mean thing to say. The parrot repeated the thought over and over, “Alex would believe it” ...and under that phrase other thoughts chorused like backup singers, copies of my own voice whispering things I hadn’t put into words: Alex is gullible, Alex is a child, I want to know what he thinks, I want to know what he thinks of me.