"Charisse, Earl, you may call me Charisse. And you are correct. It was necessary for me to discover its tolerance level and also its potential strength. Clients do not take kindly to being supplied with beasts they cannot control. The cage seemed strong enough but, obviously, it was not. And I had underestimated the maniacal fury level by a factor of at least five percent. It could even be ten."

A mistake-and two guards had died and the child could have joined them. The men standing by had been slow to act or had been ordered to hold their fire. More tests?

"That's why I called you a fool, Earl." Charisse seemed oblivious to Dumarest's anger. "To have risked your life for so little. A child. Something so easily replaced. But perhaps you had a personal reason?"

She guessed too much and Dumarest remembered the montage of dreams; the images, names, faces which had spun before him. Had he raved in delirium? Talked in answer to direct questions? She knew his name which was a clue in itself. How deeply had she probed?

She stepped back as he threw his legs over the edge of the cot to stand upright, the sheet wrapped around his waist. A tall woman, deep-breasted, her hips and buttocks a harmony of curves. The outline of her thighs showed taut against the embroidered fabric of her gown. She emitted a delicate perfume: a blend of rose and carnation coupled with a scent he did not recognize, but which made him acutely aware of her femininity.

She said, "You need to take things easy for a while. Good food and rest and no undue exertion. Your system has been shocked in more ways than one."

"I have to go somewhere."

"I know. To Ascelius." She shrugged at his expression. "It's obvious. You wore a student's robe and where else do ships head for at this time? Which was yours? The Evidial The Qualt!

"The Cossos."

"You blame me for having missed it?"