Free Mute by Piers Anthony Page A

intercepted that thought.
    Smart man, the weasel thought. But you still have power. She can’t switch you unless you wish to be switched.
    “And if I don’t join CC?” Knot demanded. “How much of you would I see then?”
    “That’s academic. But speaking theoretically, I would say that in such a case I would be reassigned elsewhere and would not meet you again.”
    “So you are the carrot before the ass.”
    “Donkey,” she corrected him. “And I prefer to think of myself as a plum. The symbolism is more conclusive.”
    “I adhere to my terms. You are making me bray. I swore I would not join, yet here I am negotiating terms. Are you really ignorant why CC wants me?”
    She is.
    “Yes. But Mit might know. His range is limited, but sometimes when he orients on a particular person—”
    Big awful threat, Hermine thought. Mit says something will destroy the empire. Many people and animals will die, and CC will be helpless. Only seven individuals can stop it, and three are enemies of CC, and one is insane. Two are animals. You alone remain—and for you the chance of success is one in ten.
    Finesse’s eyes widened. “Oh, Knot—I read that too! I didn’t know it was that bad!”
    True? he thought at the weasel.
    Half true. She suspected.
    She would have to have suspected, he realized. If a person as valuable as the leadmuter were only a pretext to reach Knot, he would have to be virtually invaluable. But the whole thing could be a gross exaggeration to evoke his galactic patriotism. It was easier for him to believe that CC would lie about his importance, than to believe that he really was the most important man in the galaxy. How could he be important, when no one remembered him?
    Awful smart man, Hermine thought. Mit says that because you are the one who can do what CC needs done, you are most important to CC.
    So he was the nail for the shoe for the horse for the messenger who could save the kingdom. That just might make sense. Circumstance could make little things important, on occasion.
    “I don’t know whether I really want to save CC,” Knot said seriously. “But it sounds like one hell of a challenge.”
    “You do like challenges,” she said.
    “It’s more that I feel compelled to rise to them. You come auditing my enclave, I’m turned off; you bring me a challenge that involves my hidden power, I’m hooked. Why didn’t you mention the challenge at the outset?”
    “My first visit was exploratory; I thought you understood that. I didn’t know what your power was, only that you had one CC was interested in. CC is interested in lots of people; it is constantly gathering data and locating mutants. So it was my job to put you through your paces and make my report. I did that. CC was impressed. It seems it had an inkling of your power, despite—or because of—certain lapses of information, lacunae in the files, and such. It wanted to see if that power could deceive an interviewer who was not specifically braced for it. If it could fool a CC interviewer, it could fool almost anyone. It seems CC needs to fool someone. I was fooled.” She grimaced adorably. “My second visit was to recruit you.”
    “I did my best to remain inconspicuous. But I think CC could have run me down years ago, had it really tried. Why didn’t it act before?”
    “I can only conjecture. I think it is to CC’s advantage to keep some talents in reserve. Any agent it develops and uses is soon known to whatever enemies it has. So it must constantly recruit unknown ones, and do it in ways that do not betray its intent.
    When a special need arises, it draws on its reserves—and it seems the need has now arisen for a good psi memory-erasure specialist.”
    “I don’t erase memories. I merely prevent the memory of me from registering in a person’s permanent recollection. It is pretty specific, relating only to me and my actions. Like doctoring a photograph to remove one person, without leaving evidence of that