ng meal was simple. There was a single dish of meat and some
sort of beans; after it had been eaten, and the darkness outside grew to
full night, it was time to retire. Jonas went over to his pallet,
removed his jerkin and shoes, and lay down. He heard the others readying
themselves for sleep, but he did not look into their minds. Soon they
were asleep and breathing heavily.

But Jonas stayed awake for a while.

"It's really too bad we can't work this sort of thing at a distance,"
Claerten's voice said suddenly. "But then, none of us has ever met the
man, and you can't read a mind if you haven't had some physical contact
with the man who owns it."

"It is too bad," Jonas agreed politely. Five hundred miles away Claerten
chuckled, and the linkage of minds transmitted the amusement to Jonas.

"You don't think so, at any rate," the director said. "You're having
adventures--and a fine time. It's the sort of thing you like, after
all."

Jonas shrugged mentally. "I suppose so," he said. "I like to work on my
own, do my own job--"

"And it's got you into trouble before," Claerten said. "But you can't
afford any mistakes this time."

"I know the risk perfectly well," Jonas thought back.

Claerten's thought carried a wry echo. "You know the risk to yourself,"
he told Jonas, "and you've accepted that. You rather like it, as a
matter of fact. But you haven't thought of the risk to the rest of
us--and to the town you're in."

Jonas sent a thought of uncertainty: "What?"

Claerten transmitted the entire picture in one sudden blow: the chance
that Jonas would not be killed immediately, but would be discovered; the
chance that the Inquisitor would get from him the secret of the
Brotherhood--

"That's impossible," Jonas said.

Claerten sounded resigned. "Nothing's impossible," he said. "And if the
secret is let out--why, the Brotherhood is finished. Finished before
it's barely started. Because you can read a man's mind doesn't mean you
can defeat him, Jonas."

"But you know what he's going to do--"

"And if he's got you in a wooden house and he's going to burn it down,
what good does your knowledge do you?"

"But you can transmit false thoughts--"

"And confuse him," Claerten said. "Fine. Fine. If you've ever met the
man before. And suppose you haven't? Then you can't transmit a thing to
him; you're trapped in the house, remember, and the fire's started. What
good's your telepathy?"

"But--"

"It's a sense," Cl