“Oh,” she said. The tension drained from her. She stood straighter and met his eyes with a look in which he thought he read some contempt. “One of those.”

“Yes,” he said. Then frowned. “What do you mean one of those?”

“I understand,” she answered. “You’re a mercenary.”

“I prefer the term professional soldier,” he said—a little stiffly in his turn.

“The point is,” she said, “you’re for hire.”

He felt himself growing cold and angry. He inclined his head to her and stepped back, leaving her way clear. “My mistake,” he said, and turned to leave her.

“No, wait a minute,” she said. “Now that I know what you really are, there’s no reason why I can’t use you.”

“None at all, of course,” said Donal.

She reached in through a slit in her tight gown and produced a small, thick folding of some printed matter, which she pushed into his hand.

“You see this is destroyed,” she said. “I’ll pay you—whatever the usual rates are.” Her eyes widened suddenly as she saw him unfold what he held and start to read it. “What are you doing? You aren’t supposed to read that! How dare you!”

She grabbed for the sheet, but he pushed her back absently with one hand. His gaze was busily running down the form she had given him, his own eyes widening at the sight of the facsimile portrait on it, which was that of the girl herself.

“Anea Marlivana,” he said. “Select of Kultis.”

“Well, what if I am?” she blazed. “What about it?”

“Only,” said Donal, “that I expected your genes to imply intelligence.”

Her mouth fell open.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Only that you’re one of the worst fools I’ve had the bad fortune to meet.” He put the sheet into his pocket. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You will?” Her face lit up. A second later it was twisted in wrath. “Oh, I don’t like you!” she cried. “I don’t like you at all!”

He looked at her a little sadly.

“You will,” he said, “if you live long enough.” He turned about and pushed open the door through which he had come just a few minutes ago.

“But wait a minute—” her voice leaped after him. “Where will I see you after you’ve got rid of it? How much do I have to pay—”

He let the door, sucking to behind him, be the period to that question of hers—and his answer to it.