—it was too late. Gladax had struck the harp. The sweet, icky chord hung in the air. There was no way to be at ease with the harp’s vibration, which showed no sign of damping down. Everything on the psychic plane was wavy, messy, screwed up. Telepathy was impossible. Thuy no longer heard the songs of the flowers or the quarreling of Chu and Ond. But, thank God, she heard the calm voice of Azaroth, low and slow. He’d just walked into the tai chi room, talking aloud.

“It’s about your garden, Aunt Gladax,” said Azaroth. “Sorry to interrupt. I got a message from the plant-coaxer. He’s too shy to teep you himself. Some of the flowers want to change color.”

“What!” exclaimed Gladax, taking the bait. “I told those flowers they have to stay red right through to the end of the Cuttlemas holidays.”

“You’d better come outside and explain it to the flowers yourself,” rumbled Azaroth. “This little Lobraner—Thuy, isn’t it? Should I watch her for you?”

“I don’t trust you alone with her,” said Gladax. “I know you two are friends. You come out to the garden with me, nephew. My harp will keep Thuy isolated. My harp likes to sing.” Gladax inched open the door to the garden and inhaled a deep breath of fresh air. “I need to settle my nerves. That chord is so dreadful. It curdles the auras.”

“Do you really have to addle Thuy?” asked Azaroth.

“I have to erase her knowledge of the jump-code, and thanks to her I’ll have to addle Ond and even Chu again. I suppose you know those two gnomes were planning to tunnel into my house. I just sicced my new dogs on them. I’m not such an old fool as you and those jitsy Lobraners think—you and your silly animal disguises. And, no, I’m not letting the clumsy gnomes take my precious harp.”

A long uneasy silence. “I never underestimate you, Aunt Gladax,” said Azaroth finally, his face a polite mask.

“It’ll be easier for me to addle Thuy if she cooperates,” said Gladax. “I really don’t want to hurt the girl. Can’t you have a word with her?”

“No use,” said Azaroth, barely glancing at Thuy. “You’ve seen how she is.”

“Feisty,” muttered Gladax. “Too smart for her own good.” She shook her head. “Let’s do the easy thing first. Let’s talk to the damned flowers.” Moving like molasses, Azaroth and Gladax made their way outdoors.

Alone in the tai chi room, Thuy began stretching her bonds in earnest. Rather than struggling at random, she pulsed her kicks and shoves to match the rubber’s resonant rate. With each pulse she extended her legs and arms a little further. And then she broke the rhythm with a double pulse, catching the material on its way in. This was enough. A band snapped.