They looked at each other for a moment.
"With the information you got from Balmordan," Trigger remarked, "you should still be able to make a very good dicker with the Council, First Lady. I understand they're very eager to get the plasmoid mess straightened out quietly."
Lyad lifted one shoulder in a brief shrug. "Perhaps," she said.
"Let's move!" said Trigger.
They walked toward the ComWeb rather edgily, not very fast, not very slow, Trigger four or five steps behind. There had been no sound from the walls and no other sign of what must be very considerable excitement nearby. Trigger's spine kept tingling. A needlebeam and a good marksman could pluck away the Denton and her hand along with it, without much real risk to Ermetyne. But probably even the smallest of risks was more than the Tranest people would be willing to take when the First Lady's person was involved.
Lyad reached the ComWeb and stopped. Trigger stopped too, five feet away. "Go ahead," she said quietly.
Lyad turned to face her. "Let me make one last—well, call it an appeal," she said. "Don't be an overethical fool, Trigger Argee! The arrangement I've planned will do no harm to anybody. Come in with me, and you can write your own ticket for the rest of your life."
"No ticket," Trigger said. She waggled the Denton slightly. "Go ahead! You can talk to the Council later."
Lyad shrugged resignedly, turned again and reached toward the ComWeb.
Trigger might have relaxed just a trifle at that moment. Or perhaps there was some other cue that Pilli could pick up. There came no sound from the ceiling canopy. What she caught was a sense of something moving above her. Then the great golden bulk landed with a terrifying lightness on the thick carpet between Lyad and herself.