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Even at an Ermetyne dinner she couldn't actually look dowdy in it. And then, accompanied by Gaya, who had turned out to be a very pleasant but not very communicative companion, she'd headed for a gambling room to make back the price of the gown. It hadn't worked out. The game she'd particularly studied up on turned out to have a five hundred minimum play. Which finished that scheme.
Did you know Lyad Ermetyne put in for voluntary rehabilitation with us, and then changed her mind and joined the Service?" "I'd heard of it." Trigger hesitated. "Did you know Lyad paid me a short visit about an hour before you got here this morning?" "I thought she would," Pilch said. "We came in to Maccadon together."
Trigger had been a little startled when she answered the doorchime and saw Lyad standing there. She invited the Ermetyne in. "I thought I'd thank you personally," Lyad said casually, "for a recording which was delivered to me some months ago." "That's quite all right," Trigger said, also casually. "I was sure I wasn't going to have any use for it." Lyad studied her face for a moment.
Doctor Veetonia's face had turned very sullen. "No?" said Lyad. "She will agree to nothing. Any fool can see that. I recommend, then, a simple chemical approach. Your creatures can handle it. Drain her. Throw her away. I will have nothing to do with the matter." "Oh, but Doctor!" the Ermetyne protested. "That would be so crude. And so very uncertain. Why, we might be here for hours still!"
"Pilli won't hurt you, Trigger," the Ermetyne said. "He's been sent in to disarm you, that's all. Throw your gun away and he won't even touch you." She laughed. "Don't bother shooting in my direction either! I'm not in the room any more." Trigger stopped. Not because of what that hateful, laughing voice had said. But because in the dark about her a fresh, pungent smell was growing.
But Tranest is also one of the wealthiest individual worlds in the Hub." Trigger watched the woman with some interest as the party moved along a dim corridor, followed by the viewer circuit's invisible pick-up. Lyad Ermetyne didn't look more than a few years older than she was herself. Rather small, slender, with delicately pretty features.
She may hope to be rescued before the information you want can be forced from her." The Ermetyne sighed. "Oh, really now, Trigger!" she very nearly pouted. "Well, if I must explain about that to you, too, I shall." She considered a moment. "Did you see your facsimile?" Trigger nodded. "Very briefly." Lyad smiled.
Then he reached for his glass, blinking at top speed. "Excuse me," he muttered. "Hardly, Belchik!" said Lyad. She gave Trigger a small wink. "But I can assure you, Trigger Argee, that you'd find my pay and working conditions very attractive indeed." It seemed a good moment to look inscrutable. Trigger did. "Serious about that, Lyad?" asked Quillan. The Ermetyne said, "Certainly I'm serious.
They walked toward the ComWeb rather edgily, not very fast, not very slow, Trigger four or five steps behind. There had been no sound from the walls and no other sign of what must be very considerable excitement nearby. Trigger's spine kept tingling. A needlebeam and a good marksman could pluck away the Denton and her hand along with it, without much real risk to Ermetyne.
Naturally, Major Quillan's personal habits were none of her business. It was just that in less than an hour he was to pick her up and take her to the Ermetyne suite for that dinner. She was wondering how she should behave towards him. Reasonably pleasant but cool, she decided. But again, not too cool, since she'd obligated herself to help him find out what the Tranest tycooness was after.
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