The Agent Gambit

  She stared at him. It's all right, Robertson, she told herself. It's really all right.

  Peace, as shocking and unexpected as her tears, flooded in, and she leaned forward to hug him and put her cheek against his. "I think I ought to go to sleep and continue healing, too, now that you mention it. But if you want me to sleep anywhere but here, you're gonna have to carry me."

  "That," Val Con said, "can be arranged."

  VANDAR:

  Kosmorn Gore

  Sunlight glittered off the snow-covered rocks, bringing tears to Kem's eyes as she followed Hakan. If the whole thing were not so wild-but, there. Miri hurt, and Hakan and Cory bringing her out here, and Cory putting her in a doctor machine . . . and cups of tea coming out of a wall and panels of lights in an aircraft that was like no aircraft possible.

  Kem shook her head and squinted ahead, looking for the aircraft. Something as big as Hakan had described should certainly be visible in the bright sunshine.

  Ahead of her, Hakan stopped, staring at an oblong depression in the snow. She came to his side and slid her hand into his.

  "It's gone," he said, and looked at her, desolation in his eyes. "They're gone, Kemmy."

  She looked at him helplessly, then looked back at the depression, squinted against the glare, and pointed. "What's that, Hakan?"

  It turned out to be a flat wooden box, with a fitted, sliding top. When they slid the top back, a strong, spicy aroma was released, somewhat reminiscent of tea. Inside was a sheet of paper and a pouch.

  "Dear Hakan and Kem," the note began, in Miri's slanting, rounded letters.

  "We're sorry we have to leave before you can see us again. Please believe that I am much better and that I'm not going to die, probably for a long, long time, so pity Cory. In the box is also the money we got from the king for being heroes. There is different money in the place we're going to, so you use this. Please. Hakan, I'm sorry we couldn't finish the last set. You're a good musician and a good friend. Remember to always play for joy. Kem, I owe you so much! I'm sorry we put you and Hakan to such trouble. Thank you both for all your help. Tell Zhena Trelu we won't bother her anymore. We love you. Miri."

  There were several blank lines, then in a sharp, backhand script: "Be well and be joyful, both of you. We'll miss you and think of you often, with love. May the music never stop for either of you. Cory."

  That was all. Kem blinked back tears and looked up from the letter to see Hakan pacing around the oblong indentation, peering carefully off in all directions. She went to him. "What is it?"

  He pointed at the unmarked snow all around. "No running start," he said. "He lifted that aircraft of his straight up!"

  She looked at his face, around at the snow, up at the sky, and back at his face, worriedly. "Is that possible, Hakan?"

  He started to say something but instead shut his mouth and looked at her for a long, long time. Then he reached out and hugged her to him, pushing his face into her hair.

  "No," he whispered. "No, it isn't."