“Meow,” said Lunzie. “I’ve told you about Zebara

86   

before. He saved my life, years ago, and even though it’s been longer for him, I was glad to see him ...”

“We could tell.” Lunzie had never suspected Bias of prudery, but the tone was still icily contemptuous. “I might remind you, Doctor, that we are here on a mission of medical research, not to reunite old lovers. Especially those who should have the common sense to realize how unsuited they are.” The word unsuited caught Lunzie’s funny bone and she almost laughed again. That showed in her face, for Bias glowered. “You might try to be professional!” he said, and turned away.

Lunzie caught Conigan’s eye, and shrugged. The other woman grinned and shook her head: no accounting for Bias, in anything but his own field. Brilliancy hath its perks. Lunzie noticed that Jarl was watching her with a curious expression that made him seem very much the heavyworlder at the moment.

As the guards moved through the crowd, checking IDs, Jarl shifted until he was next to her, between her and the other team members. His voice was low enough to be covered by the uneven mutter of the crowd.

“It’s none of my business, and I have none of the, er, scruples of someone like Bias, but . . . you do know, don’t you, that Zebara is now head of External Security?”

She had not known; she didn’t know how Jarl knew.

“We were just friends,” she said as quietly.

“Security has no friends,” said Jarl. His face was expressionless, but the statement had the finality of death.

“Thanks for the warning,” said Lunzie.

She could feel her heart beating faster and controlled the rush of blood to her face with a touch of Discipline. Why hadn’t he told her himself? Would he have told her if they’d had more time? Would he tell her at their next meeting? Or as he killed her?