It was clear from her face that this would be by far the worse calamity. Why, she's in love with Tomi! He must be something special, thought Ruth, though it complicates things. Can I trust her? I must. There's no one else.

She took the slave's hands in hers. They were rough and clammy. “Seventy-Three, it is vital for the safety of Lord Tomi, and the whole Ark, that you give him my message. Won't you do it, please?”

“What is it then?”

“I have to talk to him, somewhere safe and private. Say that Rowan sent me.”

Seventy-Three nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait.” Eight-Forty-Two stopped her at the door. “You can't bring him out here. If the Three-eyes find out they'll suspect another rising. Remember the last time?”

Seventy-Three bit her lip and frowned. “They're all over the Ark today. Trouble. Strangers, they say, from Outside, but…” She turned and looked more closely at Ruth. “You're not one of us. You're from out there, aren't you?

You're one of them!” Her voice went up.

“Hush up, Seventy-Three. It's not your place to make decisions. The way you protect your young Lord I'd almost think you was soft on him.”

Seventy-Three blushed up to the roots of her hair. She'll be in awful trouble if they notice, thought Ruth. She broke in loudly, talking to Scarface. “Surely there's a place where he goes when he doesn't want to be disturbed.”

“Down on Four,” Seventy-Three whispered, her eyes on the ground. “He spends a lot of time there.”

“The storage area? Funny place for a Lord. But it might do. There are not many Three-eyes on Four. Find your young Lord and give him a message at once, Seventy-Three.”

“Suppose he's in the library? He has a private room in there. I dursn't disturb him if he's there.”

“You could send a note, couldn't you?''

“Who's to write it? I've forgotten how.”

“I'll do it.'' Ruth's hand went automatically to her pantsuit pocket. “Bother. Give me a piece of paper and a pencil.” No one moved. “Oh, come on! There must be some somewhere if you have to steal it from a Lord!”

Eight-Forty-Two jerked his head and the slave who had been guarding the door slipped from the room. It seemed an age before he got back with a scrap of paper torn from the flyleaf of a book and a nub of pencil, roughly sharpened with a knife.

Message from Rowan, Ruth scribbled. Meet me at your store room immediately. She handed it to Seventy-Three, who tucked it into the belt of her tunic. “Do be quick.”

“He won’t come. “

“He will. I know he will. Only hurry.” She looked up at Scarface. “Would you have someone help me find the way to the store room?”

“Thought you knew this place like the back of your hand, the way you go on. There's dozens of store rooms.”