Calhoun absently filled Murgatroyd's tiny cup and handed it to him.

"But this is marvellous!" he said exuberantly. "The blue patches
appeared after the plague, didn't they? After people recovered--when
they recovered?"

Maril stared at him. His mind was filled with strictly professional
considerations. He was not talking to her as a person. She was purely
a source of information.

"So I'm told," said Maril reservedly. "Are there any more humiliating
questions you want to ask?"

He gaped at her. Then he said ruefully, "I'm stupid, Maril, but you're
touchy. There's nothing personal--"

"There is to me!" she said fiercely. "I was born among blueskins, and
they're of my blood, and they're hated and I'd have been killed on
Weald if I'd been known as ... what I am! And there's Korvan, who
arranged for me to be sent away as a spy and advised me to do just
what you said: abandon my home world and everybody I care about!
Including him! It's personal to me!"

Calhoun wrinkled his forehead helplessly.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Drink your coffee!"

"I don't want it," she said bitterly. "I'd like to die!"

"If you stay around where I am," Calhoun told her, "you may get your