"I know." Don nodded. "Pete was upset the other evening. He told me a little. A little more than is made public."
Waern's eyebrows went up. "He said nothing about that."
Don waved negligently. "It did no harm. Maybe it was a good thing." He turned toward the door, waiting.
Pete came in, looking about the room. "You brought Don Michaels here, Father?"
Waern shook his head. "He came. He insisted on talking to you, Petoen. And I find he is very persuasive."
"Oh." Pete turned. "I'm sorry, Don. Father thought that I——"
Don laughed shortly. "He was right—to some extent. But I'd like to talk to both of you about a few things."
He moved back, to perch on the edge of a heavily carved table.
"Let's look at it this way. I got into trouble over the affair. Not good, of course, but what happened to me is just one small incident. All over Oredan, good intentioned people have things happening to them. Sometimes, they're pretty serious things—like someone getting killed. And they usually can't figure out what hit them. These things happen pretty often. Why?"