“The Songbird?” he said, looking at her with newfound interest. “He’s working with you?”

She nodded.

“I agree with you. This situation is made to order for a man like Cain. Why are you here instead of him?”

“He’s out in the Altair region.”

The stringer looked impressed. “Allow me to hazard a guess: Is he after Altair of Altair?”

“Yes.”

He let out a low whistle. “I don’t know what you two are up to, but you sure aren’t going about it the easy way, are you?”

“Evidently not,” she said, looking out the window once more and noticing that the three men were no longer stationed opposite the news office.

“Well, I wish you luck,” said the man. “You’re going to need it.”

“Thanks,” she said, walking to the door. “One mile due west, right?”

“Right,” he replied.

She pulled a small pistol out of her satchel and tucked it in her belt, then stepped out into the humid Goldenrod air. A number of people were walking down the street in twos and threes, and she stood still for a moment, scrutinizing them, trying to see if any of them seemed to be paying more than casual attention to her as they went about their business.

This is ridiculous, she thought as she watched the townspeople. Who the hell knows what a hired killer looks like?

She remained motionless for another minute, half expecting to hear a shot ring out or feel a laser beam searing through her flesh, then walked up to the corner and turned left. She made three more lefts, coming to a stop in front of the news office and trying to ascertain if anyone had followed her, then decided that on a world where the only law was a bandit who lived in a fortress atop a distant hill, the less time she spent presenting herself as a potential target, the better.

She headed off in a westerly direction, staying within the shadows of buildings for as long as she could. When she had traveled some two hundred yards, the town came to an abrupt end, and she could see a colorful tent set in the middle of a rolling field almost a mile away. She took one more look around, saw nobody following her, and began walking briskly toward it, checking behind her every few moments.

She had covered half the distance, and had temporarily dipped out of sight of the tent while crossing a low area of the field, when she saw an elderly couple strolling back toward town. The man was wearing a very formal suit, obviously donned in honor of Father William, and walked with a cane. The woman carried a picnic basket and a parasol. Keeping her hand very near the butt of her pistol, Virtue stopped and greeted them.

“Is Father William through speaking?” she asked.