"How many men have you killed in that job?" Daimya asked, almost casually.
Wolf watched her for a long moment before answering. "You don't want to know that," he said slowly.
The girl dropped her eyes. "No. No, I guess you're right. I'm sorry."
She stood and went to the door. She stopped there and turned, looking at Wolf. He met her eyes and held them with his own, frankly, without embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," she repeated. She closed the door softly behind her, and Wolf bent to study the map of the village she had provided.
The village lay in a cup-shaped valley. The main street was also a direct highway out of Thanlar. On either side of the highway, the farmer's fields stretched, checkered brown and green, to the foothills. The entire valley was not more than a mile wide, and the fields extended only a quarter of a mile on either side of the main road. The foothills added another quarter of a mile, and then, abruptly, the mountains started.
Though one of the principal highways to Thanlar, the main street was fairly narrow, bordered closely on either side by the small business district, composed mostly of single story buildings constructed out of native lumber from the hills.
Wolf decided the center of the business district would offer the most concealment. Any group of men at any other place would be viewed with suspicion by Mayne Landing's bodyguards, and their chances would be proportionately diminished.
It remained to determine the most effective weapon. Explosive? No, too many villagers would be killed. Yet that would certainly be the most certain way, a grenade thrown from the roof of one of the low buildings. He wondered how thoroughly the Administrator's men would check the village before the procession.