"No," he said, nodding at the floor, "I think I will go."

"All right… but this just doesn't seem like you, Gurgeh. You've always been so… measured. In control."

"You make me sound like a machine," Gurgeh said tiredly.

"No, but more… predictable than this; more comprehensible."

He shrugged, looked at the rough rock floor. "Chamlis," he said, "I'm only human."

"That, my dear old friend, has never been an excuse."

He sat in the underground car. He'd been to the university to see Professor Boruelal; he'd taken with him a sealed, hand-written letter for her to keep, to be opened only if he died, explaining all that had happened, apologising to Olz Hap, trying to make clear how he'd felt, what had made him do such a terrible, stupid thing… but in the end he hadn't handed the letter over. He'd been terrified at the thought of Boruelal opening it, accidentally perhaps, and reading it while he was still alive.

The underground car raced across the base of the Plate, heading for Ikroh again. He used his new terminal to call the drone named Worthil. It had left after their last meeting to go exploring in one of the system's gas-giant planets, but on receiving his call had itself displaced by Chiark Hub to the base underside. It came in through the speeding car's lock. "Jernau Gurgeh," it said, condensation frosting on its casing, its presence entering the car's warm interior like a cold draught, "you've reached a decision?"

"Yes," he said. "I'll go."

"Good!" The drone said. It placed a small container about half its own size down on one of the padded car seats. "Gas-giant flora," it explained.

"I hope I didn't unduly curtail your expedition."

"Not at all. Let me offer you my congratulations; I think you've made a wise, even brave choice. It did cross my mind that Contact was only offering you this opportunity to make you more content with your present life. If that's what the big Minds were expecting, I'm glad to see you confounding them. Well done."

"Thank you." Gurgeh attempted a smile.

"Your ship will be prepared immediately. It should be on its way within the day."

"What kind of ship is it?"

"An old «Murderer» class GOU left over from the Idiran war; been in deep storage about six decades from here for the last seven hundred years. Called the Limiting F actor. It's still in battle-trim at the moment, but they'll strip out the weaponry and emplace a set of game-boards and a module hanger. I understand the Mind isn't anything special; these warship forms can't afford to be sparkling wits or brilliant artists, but I believe it's a likeable enough device. It'll be your opponent during the journey. If you want, you're free to take somebody else along with you, but we'll send a drone with you anyway. There's a human envoy at Groasnachek, the capital of Eä, and he'll be your guide as well… were you thinking of taking a companion?"

"No," Gurgeh said. In fact he had thought of asking Chamlis, but knew the old drone felt it had already had enough excitement — and boredom — in its life. He didn't want to put the machine in the position of having to say no. If it actually wanted to go, he was sure it wouldn't be afraid to ask.

"Probably wise. What about personal possessions? It could be awkward if you want to take anything larger than a small module, say, or livestock larger than human size."

Gurgeh shook his head. "Nothing remotely that large. A few cases of clothes… perhaps one or two ornaments… nothing more. What sort of drone were you thinking of sending?"

"Basically a diplomat-cum-translator and general gofer; probably an old-timer with some experience of the empire. It'll have to have a comprehensive knowledge of all the empire's social mannerisms and forms of address and so on; you wouldn't believe how easy it is to make gaffes in a society like that. The drone will keep you clear as far as etiquette goes. It'll have a library too, of course, and probably a limited degree of offensive capability."

"I don't want a gun-drone, Worthil," Gurgeh said.

"It is advisable, for your own protection. You'll be under the protection of the imperial authorities, of course, but they aren't infallible. Physical attack isn't unknown during a game, and there are groups within the society which might want to harm you. I ought to point out the Limiting Factor won't be able to stay near by once it's dropped you on Eä; the empire's military have insisted they will not allow a warship to be stationed over their home planet. The only reason they're letting it approach Eä at all is because we're removing all the armament. Once the ship has departed, that drone will be the only totally reliable protection you have."

"It won't make me invulnerable, though, will it?"

"No."

"Then I'll take my chances with the empire. Give me a mild-mannered drone; positively nothing armed, nothing… target-oriented."

"I really do strongly advise—"

"Drone," Gurgeh said, "to play this game properly I'll need to feel as much as possible like one of the locals, with the same vulnerability and worries. I don't want your device bodyguarding me. There won't be any point in my going if I know I don't have to take the game as seriously as everybody else."

The drone said nothing for some time. "Well, if you're sure," it said eventually, sounding unhappy.

"I am."

"Very well. If you insist." The drone made a sighing sound. "I think that settles everything. The ship ought to be here in a—"

"There is a condition," Gurgeh said.

"A… condition?" the drone said. Its fields became briefly visible, a glittering mixture of blue and brown and grey.

"There is a drone here, called Mawhrin-Skel," Gurgeh said.

"Yes," Worthil said carefully. "I was briefed that that device lives here now. What about it?"

"It was exiled from Special Circumstances; thrown out. We've become… friends since it came here. I promised if I ever had any influence with Contact, I'd do what I could to help it. I'm afraid I can only play Azad on condition that the drone's returned to SC."

Worthil said nothing for a moment. "That was rather a foolish promise to have made, Mr Gurgeh."

"I admit I didn't ever think I would be in a position to have to fulfil it. But I am, so I have to make that a condition."

"You don't want to take this machine with you, do you?" Worthil sounded puzzled.

"No!" he said. "I just promised I'd try to get it back into service."

"Uh-huh. Well, I'm not really in a position to make that sort of deal, Jernau Gurgeh. That machine was civilianised because it was dangerous and refused to undergo reconstruction therapy; its case is not something that I can decide on. It's a matter for the admissions board concerned."

"All the same; I have to insist."

Worthil made a sighing noise, lifted the spherical container it had placed on the seat and seemed to study its blank surface. "I'll do what I can," it said, a trace of annoyance in its tone, "but I can't promise anything. Admissions and appeal boards hate being leant on; they go terribly moralistic."

"I need my obligation to Mawhrin-Skel discharged somehow," Gurgeh said quietly. "I can't leave here with it able to claim I didn't try to help it."

The Contact drone seemed not to hear. Then it said, "Hmm. Well, we'll see what we can do."

The underground car flew across the base of the world, silent and swift.

"To Gurgeh; a great game-player, a great man!" Hafflis stood on the parapet at one end of the terrace, the kilometre drop behind him, a bottle in one hand, a fuming drug-bowl in the other. The stone table was crowded with people who'd come to wish Gurgeh goodbye. It had been announced that he was leaving tomorrow morning, to journey to the Clouds on the GSV Little Rascal, to be one of the Culture's representatives at the Pardethillisian Games, the great ludic convocation held every twenty-two years or so by the Meritocracy Pardethillisi, in the Lesser Cloud.