“You need my help?”

“Yes, and that . . .”He suddenly lunged toward her, and flattened her to the couch.

“What!” His face smothered her. She beat a tattoo on his back. Behind her, she heard a chuckle.

“Good start, Zebara!” said someone she could not see. “But don’t be too long. You’ll miss the Governor’s speech.”

“Go away, Follard!” Zebara said, past her ear. “I’m busy and I don’t care about the Governor’s speech.”

A snort of laughter. “Bedrooms upstairs, unless you’re also working on blackmail.”

Zebara looked up. Lunzie couldn’t decide whether to scream or pretend acquiescence. “When I need advice, Follard, I’ll ask for it.”

“All right, all right; I’m going.”

Lunzie heard the thump of the door closing and counted a careful five while Zebara sat back up.

“I’m glad you warned me! Or I’d be wondering why you wanted my help.”

“I do.” Zebara was tense, obviously worried. “Lunzie, we can’t talk here, but we must talk. I do need your help and I need you to pretend your old affection for

me.