Soothsayer Read Free

never been arrested is because we do our looting only during the time we have an alibi."
    She made no reply, but kept looking surreptitiously into corners, down corridors, behind room dividers. From what she could tell—and she couldn't be certain until she examined some of the rooms—it appeared that most or all of the human guests used the airlifts to the right of the registration desk, which put them on levels Four through Nine. Levels Two and Three were reached by gently-ascending ramps to the left of the registration desk, and seemed to be of interest only to Canphorites, Lodinites, and Robelians.
    "Well, at least they're all oxygen breathers,” she muttered. “I hate it when they change environments.” She turned to Merlin. “Have you spotted the service lifts yet?"
    He frowned. “There don't seem to be any."
    "There must be. They'd never let the maids go up in the same airlift as the paying customers.” She paused. “Maybe you'd better go tell the management that we're here to put on a show for their customers tonight, before they think that we're casing the premises."
    "And what will you be doing while I'm explaining away our presence?” asked Merlin.
    "Casing the premises,” she replied with a smile.
    Merlin approached the front desk, and the Mouse took an elevator to the seventh level, made sure that the locks were a type she could pick, tried to take the lift down to the basement to inspect the laundry, found that it stopped at the lobby, and finally rejoined the magician just as he was emerging from the day manager's office.
    "All set?” she asked.
    "They won't give us any problems, and it'll justify our hanging around the hotel for the rest of the afternoon."
    "Good. Let's start by having some lunch."
    He agreed, and a moment later they entered the main-floor restaurant. Only two other tables were occupied, and Merlin nodded toward the farthest one.
    "See that alien over there?” he whispered, indicating the lone being at the table.
    "The humanoid with the bad complexion?” she asked.
    Merlin nodded. “The one who's dressed all in silver. Steer clear of him."
    "Why?"
    "Wait'll he reaches for something and you'll see."
    As if on cue, the alien signaled for a waiter, and she could see that he had once possessed four arms, but that one had been amputated.
    "What kind of race does he belong to?” she asked.
    "I don't know—but unless I miss my guess, that's Three-Fisted Ollie."
    "Never heard of him."
    "Just keep out of his way."
    "Outlaw?"
    "Bounty hunter. They say he's killed more than thirty men, and that he never takes contracts on his own race.” The magician paused thoughtfully. “I wish I knew why he was on Westerly; he usually operates on the Inner Frontier."
    "Unless he's hunting for us."
    "Come on,” said Merlin. “There's not a warrant out on us anywhere in the Democracy."
    "That you know of,” she said.
    "That anyone knows of,” he replied confidently. “Anyway, if you run into him tonight, just apologize and get the hell out of his way quick."
    The Mouse nodded and punched her order into the small menu computer. A moment later Merlin prodded her with his toe.
    "What now?” she asked.
    "Don't look turn around or pretend to notice him—but do you see who just joined the alien?"
    She turned her head.
    "I said don't look directly!” hissed Merlin.
    "All right,” said the Mouse, staring directly into Merlin's eyes. “It's a big bearded human with a small arsenal hanging down from his belt. I assume you know him , too?"
    "It's Cemetery Smith."
    "Another bounty hunter?"
    Merlin shook his head. “A hired killer. One of the best."
    "So why are an alien bounty hunter and a professional assassin sitting fifty feet away from us?” asked the Mouse.
    "I don't know,” said the magician nervously. “They should both be on the Frontier, and they sure as hell shouldn't be talking to each other."
    "Are they after us?” asked the Mouse calmly, even as she searched for exits and mentally