"What sort of an animal act do you have in mind?" the impresario asked doubtfully. "Our audiences are very particular. It has to be good, very good, and unusual."
"I think they'll like mine," confidently. "I have eight pet roches, and as...."
"Roches!" Yandor looked incredulous. "You mean you've actually trained some roches?"
"That's right. I've trained them as a hobby. I drill 'em just like our Ruler's residence guards do—and other things as well. I'm sure the people will like the act. I'll bring 'em down and show you what they can do."
"Well now," still hesitantly, "that may be all right. It sounds most unusual, to say the least. I'll look at them, say, the day after tomorrow—yes, I think I'll have time then."
"Thank you, nyer. Then, after I've shown you what I can do about that, we can talk about ... other things."
There was a flash of anger in the snapping, black eyes. "Don't press me, Anlo. I go slow about things like this, and I'll want to know all about you first."
"Sure, I know that. I didn't mean to hurry you—I just wanted to remind you I was still thinking about the main thing, not merely about a little matter like being an animal trainer."
He left the offices then, and started toward home. But on the way he began thinking about that man, Ovil Esbor, he had heard mentioned. He took a couple of hours out, then, to investigate many minds to see what he could learn about the fellow.
He found that his initial information was correct—Esbor was a small-time, local politician, but was also connected with many other businesses about the city. He ran a sort of employment agency as his business "front", but there were rumors that he was also a "fence" for stolen goods, a panderer and narcotics agent, and many other illegal things.