195

“I’m afraid they did.” His lips pursed. “We found nothing we recognized. We thought perhaps when you woke, you would know what to look for. You don’t?”

“No. If he included it, I don’t recognize it.”

“He gave you nothing at ail?” Coromell’s voice had a querulous edge now, age roughening it with impatience. He gave me a very good time, Lunzie thought to herself, and a lot of worries.

“Nothing.” Then she frowned. He started to speak but she waved him to silence. “No, I think he did after all.”

Quickly, she went to the locker and pulled out the duffel, pawing through it. She had not kept her copy of the Bitter Destinies program. She had not felt she needed it to remember that powerful work and she had not wanted to chance being teased by the team members if they saw her with it. She had not even been sure that Diplo customs would let her take it out. So Zebara must have put that program among her things. She found it, and brought it to Coromell.

“This isn’t mine. I threw mine away. And this is signed. Look! All the singers autographed it.”

Thick dark ink, in many different calligraphies, most of them extravagantly individual. Coromell took it gingerly from her hand.

“Ah! Perfect for a rather old-fashioned technology. It would take a dot only this size,” and he pointed to one of the ellipsis dots between a performer’s name and role, “to hold a great deal of information. We’ll have to

see

He stood, then shook his head at her. “I’m sorry, dear Lunzie, but you must stay here, unknown, awhile longer. Without Sassinak, we must not lose your testimony, no matter what this gives us.”

“But I. . .”

He had moved even as he spoke, more swiftly and fluidly than she would have supposed possible, and abruptly she faced a closed door again.

“Blast you!” she said, to that impassive surface, “I am not a stupid child, even if you are an arrogant old goat.”