"Apparently," Trigger admitted.
They looked at each other a moment; then Brule grinned. "Well, keep your little secret!" he said. "All I really want to know is when you're getting back."
"Very soon, I hope, Brule," Trigger said unhappily. Then there was a sudden burst of sound from the ComWeb—gusts of laughing, chattering voices; a faint wash of music. Brule glanced aside.
"Party going on," he explained. "And here comes Nelauk! She wanted to say hello to you."
A dozen feet behind him, a figure strolled gracefully into view on the screen and came forward. A slender girl with high-piled violet hair and eyes that very nearly matched the hair's tint. She was dressed in something resembling a dozen blossoms—blossoms which, in Trigger's opinion, had been rather carelessly scattered. But presumably it was a very elegant party costume. She was quite young, certainly not yet twenty.
Brule laid a brotherly hand on a powdered shoulder. "Meet Trigger, Nelauk!"
Nelauk murmured it was indeed an honor, one she had long looked forward to. The violet eyes blinked sleepily at Trigger.
Trigger gave her a great big smile. "Thanks so much for arranging for the call. I've been wondering how Brule was doing."
Wrong thing to say, probably, she thought. She was right. Nelauk reached for it with no effort.
"Oh, he's doing wonderfully!" she assured Trigger without expression. "I'm keeping an eye on him. And this small favor—it was the very least I could do for Brule. For you, too, of course, Trigger dear."