“Don’t shoot!” cried King Bester.

He was too late. A green spiral of light flashed from the cylinder, corkscrewing a tight helical path that glowed in the air. It touched the escaping pair, first the man and then the woman. The backs of their jackets smoked, and threw off a shower of sparks. Then they were wriggling away out of sight behind a long curtain of golden beads.

“They’re not hurt,” said Brachis to King Bester. And then to Mondrian, “You’re going to lose your bet anyway, so I’ll give you a look at the monitor system you’ll never get.” He pulled a flat disk from his belt. “It’s never had a test before in a crowded environment like this. Let’s see how well it does.”

He held the disk horizontal. At its center a double arrow of light moved and turned. As they watched, it lengthened perceptibly and changed direction. A Tracker?”

Brachis nodded at Mondrian’s question. “But a lot fancier than usual. Direction and distance. Once anything’s tagged with the signature beam this can follow them for at least twenty-four hours. It’s also designed to be able to track five people at once. It must be confusing if they all go separate ways — five separate arrows to deal with — but with two it ought to be easy. And they’re keeping close together.” He handed it to Mondrian, who in turn held it out at once to Flammarion.

“Go follow them, bring them back here. I have to stay here and wait for Bozzie.”

Flammarion stared at him pop-eyed, then glanced in turn at the Tracker and the bewildering complexity of the chamber.

“Not by yourself, Captain,” went on Mondrian. “I realize you don’t know the place.” He gestured at King Bester, who was pointedly looking elsewhere. “He’ll help you — and he’ll be very well rewarded if he does.”

“Right you are, squire.” Bester slapped his hands together and grabbed the Tracker from Flammarion. “Now we’re cooking. The arrow’s not moving, they must have stopped. Come on, Captain. Well have ’em in a jiffy-o.”

With Flammarion trailing along behind he set out along the path defined by the arrow. Mondrian glanced mildly at Brachis, and actually came close to smiling. “Big mistake, Luther. You didn’t think when you set the Tracker on them. Now I’m going to win that bet — with those handsome two you were kind enough to tag for me. Want to concede right now?”

“The bet stands, Esro. Nothing good comes out of Earth.” His thought ran on: That irritates you mightily, doesn’t it, every time I say it?

And Mondrian was making his own useful observation. Nothing good comes out of Earth, you say. But some things on Earth certainly interest you. I caught that look, when King Bester was talking about visiting a Needler lab.

He had no time to pursue that thought. A blare of trumpets came from the direction opposite to the vanished Bester. The crowd was parting, pushed aside by a dozen hulking ruffians. Behind them came a flower-bedecked sedan chair carried by eight men, with Princess Tatiana walking at its side.

The Duke of Bosny, Viscount Roosevelt, Count Mellon, Baron Rockwell, Earl of Potomac — all five hundred and seventy pounds of him — was arriving to begin negotiation.

Twelve hours later, Tatty and Mondrian were at last alone. She was sitting by his side, reviewing a handwritten document.

“It looks all right, Essy,” she said, frowning in the dim light. “This transfers title, effective two hours ago. They’re all yours now.”

Mondrian nodded. He did not look up. In front of him on the table was an open flagon of ancient brandy. He was staring into the depths of a balloon glass holding half an inch of amber liquid.

“You have no idea how much effort it took to find that for you,” complained Tatty. “I started looking for it right after your last visit to Earth — and you haven’t even smelled it.”

Mondrian roused himself, brought the glass close to his nose, and gave it a dutiful sniff. “I’m sorry. You know me, Princess, most of the time I’d kill for a brandy like this.”

“So what’s wrong? Bozzie signed over the contracts, you’ve got your two candidates, and Captain Flammarion ought to have them away from Earth in a few more hours. Why aren’t you smiling?”

“I wish I knew. I can’t help feeling something’s wrong with the deal.”

“You think you paid too much?”

“No. Too little. Your friend Bozzie didn’t ask enough money for those two.”

“But you told me you had no idea how much it ought to cost to buy those contracts.”

“I didn’t. But King Bester knew, and I was watching his face when Bozzie accepted our first offer. Bester gawped and gasped.” Mondrian picked up the glass, breathed in the delicate centuries-old bouquet, and took a tiny sip. “Well, we’re committed now, even if I don’t feel comfortable with it. I told Flammarion to set them into the Link system and up as soon as he could, before Quarantine had a chance to change their mind. Now I wish I’d taken a look at them myself.”

“You did see them — you picked them out.”

“I mean a close look. I only saw them for a second or two, when we first met them. Luther Brachis took care of the exit permits — and he seems much too pleased with himself. I’m telling you, Tatty, something’s not right.”

“Did you talk to Commander Brachis about it?’

“I couldn’t. He slipped away with King Bester.”

“Where to?”

“They didn’t say. But I think I know. Bester took him to a Needler lab.

“Are you sure? I can’t think what either of them would want with one of those.”

Mondrian shook his head and took another taste of brandy. “Nor can I.” He finally smiled, but it was no more than a rueful grimace. “Princess, if anyone knows that people sneak down here to Earth for their own secret reasons, you and I do. Can you make an arrangement for me to see Rattafee again — tonight?”

“Rattafee! Didn’t you hear? Tatty put her hand on his arm. “Essy, Rattafee’s dead. A month ago. I assumed you would have heard about it. She overdosed on Paradox.”

Mondrian closed his eyes. “That is not … good news. She was the best Fropper I ever had. I even thought I might be making some progress with her. Now … I don’t know where to turn. Where else can I go?”

“For another Fropper?”

“I’ve tried them all. And got nowhere.”

“I heard about a new one last week, somewhere down in the deep basement levels. I can find out more about that if you want me to — maybe even get an appointment for you.”

“When?”

“In a week or so? You know it takes time if the Fropper’s any good.” Tatty hesitated. “I’ll check it out for you tomorrow if you like.”

“Tonight.”

“Esro, I can’t. It’s too late. I was hoping you’d be staying with me — just for the one night.” She came to stand behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. “I don’t ask much, you know that. You don’t have to fake it for me any more. I don’t want the same old promises: how you’ll find a place for me, how you’ll take me with you away from Earth. I’m past all that. Just stay here tonight. That’s all I’m asking.”

He reached up to cover her hands with his own. “Princess, you don’t understand. When I come to Earth, I always want to see you. But I’ve got to be honest with you, too. When I come to Earth, I have to see the Froppers, find out if they can help me yet. I’ll stay here tonight, of course I will. But would you at least try to make an appointment now for a Fropper meeting, as soon as I can be fitted into the new one s schedule? That way I’ll have some hope of a few hours’ sleep tonight.”

Tatty leaned over his shoulder and kissed Mondrian quickly on the lips. “Of course I will. My poor, poor Essy. Is it still as bad as ever?”

“It’s worse. Every year, it tightens and tightens.” Mondrian sat up straight, lifting Tatty with him. “There’s one other thing, then I can relax. Luther Brachis.”

“What about him.”