put back in the hopper. But he did not
press the "start" button.

"You know, Maragon," I told him. "This girl is hot, and then she's
cold. But there is so much accuracy when she's right that I think
there's some future to training her. What I want out of you is a
measurement of how great her accuracy is."

Norty snorted. "When Maragon doesn't believe it?" he said. "No
thanks." He started the card sorter, filling the room with its
clatter.

I drew a pair of dice from my pocket. I'm never without the ivories.
They are the original instruments of my TK skill. That's how Maragon
found me, unconsciously tipping dice in an alley crap game. I threw
them out on the table next to the sorter, when the cards had gone
through and it fell silent. They came up with a four-three natural.

"Maragon!" I snapped. "You know he doesn't think enough of _your_ TK
to have your training extended. Well, you and I both know we have done
wonders for your grip. Just because he's Grand Master doesn't make him
right all the time. I want you to test this girl, and I think she has
as much right to the facts as you have to the training I've been
giving you under the table all these months!"

"Blackmail," he said sadly. "Extortion!"

"So I'm extorting some work out of you," I agreed. "The only question
is whether you will pay."

"What do you want?" Baskins asked glumly.

"I want you to make this woman predict a series, a number of series,
and I want you to use your computers here to tell me on what basis her
accuracy varies. You can do that, can't you?"

He nodded, staring at the dice on the table. "If I wasn't so sure you
can help me develop my TK, Lefty," he said, "I'd never do this. All
right, sneak her down here and I'll get her to PC some weather
information for a month or so."

"Weather?" I said. "Why the weather?"

"You'll see when I show the results," he said. "Roll those dice again.
I swear I felt your lift that last time."

* * * * *

I made a few other calls around the building to catch up on what had
been going on while I was in Nevada. Our formal organization is lousy,
because Maragon is a one-man show. You just have to rely on gossip,
what the CV's pick up and what leaks by telepathy, to know all the
internal politics of the Lodge. I wouldn't want you to think that
Psi's are more devious or Machiavellian than normals, but sometimes
they act it.

By the time I reached up to tap on Pheola's