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"No cigars either. You said you had some news for me. What is it?" "I brought along our ship-arrival Talent," said Gwenlyn blandly. "He can only tell when a ship will arrive at the solar system where he is, so he had to come here to precognize." Bors felt again that stubborn incredulity which Talents, Incorporated would always rouse in a mind like his.
Bors had himself ferried to the flagship by space-boat, because what he had to report was too disheartening to be spoken where all the fleet might hear. Gwenlyn met him at the flagship's airlock. She looked very glad, as if she'd been uneasy about him. "Call for a boat," Bors commanded her curtly, "to take you to the Sylva. Go on board with anybody else who belongs on it, your father, anybody.
"No," said Gwenlyn. "They're going to be released. They'll go to Mekin, and we couldn't go there!" Bors groaned again. Then he said savagely, "Wait here for me. I'll arrange something as soon as I've seen the king." He strode down the corridor to King Humphrey's cabin. A sentry came to attention. Bors passed through a door.
Naturally, Tralee wants your uncle back. Then they'll have you. Of course," he added complacently, "our Department for Disseminating Truthful Seditious Rumors had something to do with it. But that was necessary wartime propaganda. And you didn't let anybody down." Then he said peevishly, "Not until now!" Bors gaped. He looked at Gwenlyn. Her cheeks were crimson. Revelation struck Bors like a blow.
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