Shearing asked swiftly, "MacDonald never gave you any hint of where he'd hidden the Titanite?"
"No," said Hyrst. He paused, and then said, "It's the Titanite you're after?"
Shearing answered carefully. "In a way, yes. But we didn't kill MacDonald for it. Those who did kill him are the men who are after you now. They're afraid you might lead us to the stuff."
Hyrst swore, shaking with sudden anger. "Damn it, I won't be treated like a child. Not by you, by anyone. I want—"
"You want the men who killed MacDonald," said Shearing. "I know. I remember what was in your mind when you met your son."
A weakness took Hyrst and he leaned his forehead against the cold stone wall.
"I'm sorry," said Shearing. "But we want what you want—and more. So much more that you can't dream it. You must trust us."
"Us? That woman?"
Once again in Shearing's mind Hyrst saw the woman with her head against the stars, and the ship looming darkly. He saw the woman much more clearly, and she was like a fire, burning with anger, burning with a single-minded, dedicated purpose. She was beautiful, and frightening.