The Iceman was still considering what Praed Tropo had said as they toured the grounds.

“Which way do you think Chandler will approach?” asked the Blue Devil when they had finished their inspection.

The Iceman placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the landscape.

“Difficult to say,” he replied. “I assume the fence on the west side is electrified?”

“Our security system does not use electricity,” answered Praed Tropo. “It is too easy to disable at the source. The fence has a self-generating field that will kill anything that touches it.”

“How about that overhang?” asked the Iceman, indicating the huge rock that towered over the house.

“It cannot be scaled.”

“Not by a Lorhn, perhaps—but it wouldn't be that difficult for a human.”

“Could you scale it?” asked Praed Tropo skeptically.

The Iceman smiled and shook his head. “No ... but I've got a prosthetic leg, and I've never really learned to use it properly; there's some nerve damage to my hip. Twenty years ago I could have climbed it with no trouble.”

“I shall deploy forces to guard all approaches to the overhang,” said Praed Tropo after some thought.

“I wouldn't, if I were you.”

“Why not?” asked the Blue Devil suspiciously.

“You're not dealing with an amateur here,” replied the Iceman. “He'll spot anyone you post there, and he won't try to come into the compound—and if he doesn't come in, then there's no way I can contact him.”

“You are certain?”

“The only way he'll enter the compound under those circumstances is if he kills every Lorhn you post there—and it's my understanding that that's what you've brought me here to prevent.”

“That is true,” admitted Praed Tropo. “But if we follow this philosophy throughout our defenses, it is almost certain that Chandler will at least reach the spot where we are standing without being apprehended.”

“That's the whole purpose of the exercise,” answered the Iceman. “We've got to entice him to breech your defenses or I won't be able to identify him and warn him off.”

“And what if you can't warn him off?” asked Praed Tropo. “What if, having come this far, he elects to kill you?”

“He has no reason to kill me.”

“Men lie to each other all the time. Why should he believe what you tell him?”

“Because he knows me.”

“That is an inadequate answer.”

“I'm sorry, because it's the best answer you're going to get,” replied the Iceman. “Besides, what difference does it make to you if he kills me or not? You insist that no one can kill the Oracle. At least this way you'll know where he is, and you can make sure he doesn't get out.”

Praed Tropo was silent for a moment. “Logical,” it said at last.

“I'm glad we agree on something,” said the Iceman.

“What do you suggest for the rest of the perimeter?” asked the Blue Devil. “It is possible to deactivate the fences.”

“Not a good idea,” answered the Iceman. “We want to pick and choose his approaches. If you just let him come in at random, I might never see him.”

Praed Tropo stared at him, a strange expression on its face.

“Is something wrong?” asked the Iceman.

“No,” answered the Blue Devil. “You are acting out your part very well.”

“I'm not acting any part,” protested the Iceman irritably. “I'm trying to earn my commission.”

“I still do not trust you, Mendoza,” said Praed Tropo. “But you have been very careful not to make a mistake. If you had suggested that we deactivate the fence, I would know you were an agent for the assassin, and I would have immediately imprisoned you.” It paused. “I will continue to work with you, but sooner or later I expect you to make an error, and I will be waiting for it.”

“You are doomed to be disappointed,” said the Iceman.

“I have always expected the worst from Men,” answered Praed Tropo. “And I have never yet been disappointed.”

“If you're going to continue telling me what a treacherous race I belong to, can we at least walk over to some shade?” asked the Iceman. “If I stand out here much longer, I may not live long enough to prove to you that I'm telling the truth.”

Praed Tropo led him to a bizarrely-shaped lean-to that seemed to have no purpose except to provide shade to anyone who was willing to bend over at the waist.

“Aren't you uncomfortable?” asked the Iceman, staring at the slightly taller Blue Devil.

“You asked for shade. I have provided it.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” said the Iceman. “Your furniture and vehicles are bad enough, but if I'm going to roast to death, I don't see why I have to do it while I'm bent in half.”

“You should have considered that before accepting an assignment on Alpha Crepello III,” replied Praed Tropo, stepping back out into the sunlight.

“Look,” said the Iceman, also stepping out from under the lean-to and straightening up painfully, “I know that you enjoy my discomfort, but my race wasn't built for this kind of heat, and I'm a very old man. You're going to have to provide me with some comfortable shade—and I emphasize the word comfortable—if I'm to stay outside and wait for Chandler to show up.”

“He will almost certainly arrive under cover of darkness,” answered Praed Tropo. “Our nights are quite cool.”

“I experienced one of your nights, thanks. They're only cool if you're a Lorhn.” The Iceman paused. “Do you know what an umbrella is?”

“No.”

“I'll draw one for you,” said the Iceman. “I want one of your Lorhn to construct one for me. And I'll need plenty of water.”

“Water is very rare on Alpha Crepello III.”

“Not as rare as assassins,” shot back the Iceman. “If you want me to stop him, you've got to keep me alive until he shows up.”

Praed Tropo seemed to consider his request. “I will see what can be done,” it said at last.

“Good.”

Praed Tropo stared at him for a moment. “You have not yet inspected the entrances to the property which are used by vehicles,” it said, indicating two driveways. “Do you feel strong enough to inspect them?”

“Let's get it over with,” said the Iceman. They had checked the first of them and were walking to the second when the Iceman suddenly stopped, overcome by dizziness.

“What is the matter, Mendoza?” asked Praed Tropo.

“Heat prostration, I think,” mumbled the Iceman. “I've got to get out of the sun.”

“How does one treat heat prostration in a human?”

“I don't know,” said the Iceman, grabbing Praed Tropo's arm for support. “I've never had it before. Get me to someplace cool, and if I pass out, find a way to get some fluids in me. Just water; I don't think my system can take anything the Lorhn drink.”

Praed Tropo summoned two other Blue Devils. The Iceman's last memory was of being half-carried and half-dragged into the foyer of the huge building.

Then he lost consciousness.