Merlin touched down on Binder X, one of the more populous worlds of the Inner Frontier, just long enough to drop off the Mouse and Penelope, then headed toward the galactic Core.
Within three hours, the Mouse and Penelope were on their way to Evergreen, a lush jungle world which had been opened up only two decades earlier. They spent one night there, then boarded the next ship to Solomon, a mining planet that had yielded the three largest diamonds ever discovered. The spaceport was in the small but bustling city of Haggard, and by nightfall the Mouse had obtained a room in a nondescript hotel.
"How much longer do we have to keep running?" asked Penelope wearily, as the Mouse began unpacking their single piece of luggage.
"Until I'm sure no one is following us."
"I'm hungry."
"Wash your hands and face, and I'll take you downstairs for dinner."
The girl walked into the bathroom, did as she had been instructed, and then emerged, holding up her hands for the Mouse's inspection.
"Very good," said the Mouse.
"Good," said Penelope. "I want you to like me."
"I'd like you just as much if your hands were dirty," said the Mouse. "After all, you're a very likable little girl. I just wouldn't shake hands with you."
"Do you really like me?"
"Yes, I really do."
"I like you, too." The little girl paused. "Will you always be my friend?"
"Of course," said the Mouse. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"I don't know," said Penelope. "But lots of people pretend to be my friend, and then they aren't."
"Oh?" said the Mouse. "Who?"
"Lots of people."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Penelope shook her head. "I'm hungry. So is Jennifer."
"Me, too," said the Mouse. "Bring Jennifer along, and let's go get some dinner."
They left the room, took the airlift down to the lobby, and entered the restaurant. The Mouse scanned the faces of the diners, not quite knowing what she was looking for, but hoping she would be able to spot someone who was after Penelope, either by the telltale bulge of a weapon, or by some surreptitious look. But everyone carried weapons on the Inner Frontier, and nobody paid her or the girl the any attention.
They punched out their orders on a computer—the Mouse had to help Penelope read some of the dishes—and then settled back to await their meal.
"If we're going to be friends forever," said the Mouse, "I should know a lot more about you. We've been so busy running for the past few days that we've hardly had a chance to get to know each other."
"And I should get to know more about you, too," agreed Penelope.
"That seems fair enough."
"Why are you called the Mouse?"
"Because I'm so small," answered the Mouse. "And because I can go places where most people don't fit."
"Like the laundry vent?"
The Mouse nodded. "Exactly."
"Why where you there?" asked Penelope.
"Because that's where Merlin put on his magic show."
"I like his tricks," said Penelope. "They're fun." She paused. "Is he your husband?"
The Mouse chuckled. "No, thank God. He's just my business partner."
"Do you love him?"
"No."
"Do you like him?"
"Yes."
"More than you like me?"
"I hardly know you yet, Penelope," said the Mouse. "But I'm sure that after we get acquainted, I won't like anyone better than I like you."
"I hope so," said Penelope.
"Now it's my turn to ask you some questions."
"All right."
"What's your home world?"
"I don't know."
"I don't mean the world you were born on. I mean the one you live on."
"Oh. Solomon."
"That's the world we're on now," the Mouse pointed out.
"Then it's my home world now."
"Let me try it a different way. Where did you grow up?"
"All over."
The Mouse frowned. "Where did your parents live?"
"With me."
A waiter arrived with their dinners, and the Mouse put off further questions until they had finished eating. Then, while they were waiting for dessert, she tried again.
"Do you know why the alien kidnapped you?"
"What is kidnapped?" asked Penelope.
"Why he stole you from your family?"
"He didn't. He stole me from Jimmy Sunday." She paused, considering her answer. "He saved me from Jimmy Sunday," she amended, "but he was very mean to me."
"Jimmy Sunday?" repeated the Mouse. "He was a bounty hunter. I remember hearing that they found his body on Glennaris V."
"Glennaris IV," Penelope corrected her. "No one lives on Glennaris V."
"And you say the alien stole you from him and killed him?"
"He saved me from him," repeated Penelope. "Jimmy Sunday was going to hurt me." She paused thoughtfully. "I don't know who killed him."
The Mouse looked puzzled. "Why would he want to hurt you?"
Penelope shrugged. "I don't know."
"Maybe you just thought he was going to hurt you. He was probably a gruff man."
"He was going to kill me," said Penelope adamantly.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Those two men on Cherokee were going to kill me, too."
"No, they weren't," said the Mouse. "They were going to take you away from us and return you to your family."
"I don't have any family."
"You must have someone—a cousin, an uncle, something."
Penelope shrugged. "Maybe."
"Anyway, they weren't going to kill you. Someone has offered a lot of money for anyone who finds you and returns you to them. Nobody can collect it if you're dead."
"You're not going to return me, are you?" asked Penelope fearfully.
"Of course not," lied the Mouse. "But I have to find out who wants you back, so I can tell them that you're safe and that you'd rather stay with me." She paused. "Who do you think wants you back?"
"Everybody," said Penelope. "Especially the Number Man."
"The Number Man?" repeated the Mouse. "Who's that?"
"I don't know."
"Why do you call him the Number Man?"
"Because his name is a number."
"It is?"
Penelope nodded. "32," she said.
"Maybe it's a code."
"Everyone called him that."
"Who is everyone?"
"Everyone in the building."
"What building?"
"I don't know."
"Where was this building?" asked the Mouse.
"Far away," said Penelope. "On a big planet with lots of buildings."
"If I named the planet, would you know it?"
"Yes."
"Earth?"
"No."
"Sirius V?"
"No."
"Deluros VIII?"
"That's it," said Penelope.
"You've been to Deluros?"
Penelope nodded. "It's a big world."
"The biggest," agreed the Mouse. "Did you live there?"
Penelope shook her head. "The Number Man took me there."
"Why would someone take you to the capital world of the Democracy?"
"I don't know."
"How long were you there?"
"A long time."
"A week? A month? A year?"
Penelope shrugged. "A long time."
"Did you like it there?" asked the Mouse.
"No. Everybody wore uniforms and they weren't nice to me. They wouldn't play with me."
"How did you leave?"
"Somebody stole me."
"Jimmy Sunday?"
Penelope shook his head. "No. Before him."
The Mouse was silent for a moment, trying to understand what she had been told, and to determine how much of it was true.
"It's my turn," said Penelope.
"Your turn?"
"To ask you more questions."
"All right," said the Mouse.
"Were you always called the Mouse?"
"No. I had a real name once."
"What was it?"
The Mouse smiled a bittersweet smile. "That was a long time ago, and I never think about it any more."
"How long ago?"
"Very."
"How old are you?" asked Penelope.
"Thirty-seven Standard years."
"You're much older than Merlin," observed Penelope.
"Not that much," said the Mouse defensively. "Six or seven years, that's all."
"What did you do before you met him?"
"All kinds of things," said the Mouse.
"Were you ever married?"
"No."
"Did you ever want to be?"
The Mouse shrugged. "I thought I did once. I was wrong."
"Is that when you became the Mouse?"
The Mouse smiled. "Not quite."
"How does Merlin do his tricks? Are they really magic?"
"No, not really; they're just illusions. And he never tells me how they work."
"But he's your friend, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"Then he should tell you."
"But because I'm his friend, I never ask."
"I don't understand," said Penelope.
"When you get a little bigger, you will." Suddenly the Mouse became aware of a large man staring at them through the doorway that faced the lobby. When she met his gaze he looked away.
"Penelope," said the Mouse softly, "I want you to turn your head very slowly and tell me if you recognize the man standing by the pillar just beyond the door. Not quickly, now; just casually, as if you're bored and are looking around."
Penelope did as she was instructed, then turned back to the Mouse.
"Have you ever seen him before?" asked the Mouse.
Penelope shook her head. "No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"I may be wrong, but I've got a feeling that he's staring right at us." She reached out and took Penelope's hand in her own. "There's no reason to be afraid. He won't make a move while there are so many witnesses. We're safe for the moment."
"I knew it wouldn't stop," said Penelope unhappily.
The Mouse let go of Penelope's hand and began checking her weaponry beneath the table: the knife in her boot, the acid spray in her pocket pouch, the tiny sonic pistol tucked beneath her belt. When she was sure everything was in order, she instructed the computer to bill her room, and then got to her feet.
"Well, we might as well find out if I'm right or wrong," she announced. "Stay near me, but always keep me between you and that man, do you understand?"
"Yes."
"And don't be afraid. No one's going to hurt you."
"I won't be afraid," promised Penelope.
The Mouse took Penelope by the hand and walked out of the restaurant toward the airlift. The large man fell into step about forty feet behind them.
"Damn!" muttered the Mouse under her breath.
She pulled Penelope onto the invisible cushion of air and let it propel them to the eighth floor. The large man took the airlift just to the left, about ten seconds behind them.
They stepped off at the eighth floor and began walking toward their room. The large man remained some forty feet behind them.
The Mouse reached her door and began entering the computer lock combination, then felt a small hand on her wrist.
"Don't," whispered Penelope.
The Mouse turned to her.
"There's someone inside."
"How do you know?" asked the Mouse.
"I just know," said Penelope with total conviction.
The Mouse took her at her word, grabbed her hand again, and began walking down the corridor, away from the large man.
"There'd better be a stairway!" she muttered.
They turned a corner and saw an exit sign above one of the doors.
"Faster!" said Penelope, breaking into a run, and the Mouse followed suit.
They entered the stairwell and the door slammed shut behind them, just as the large man reached the corner. The Mouse pulled her knife out and crouched in the shadows, waiting.
"That won't work!" whispered Penelope.
"It'd damn well better work!" said the Mouse.
"It won't," she repeated. "Follow me."
She darted down the stairs, and the Mouse raced after her. When she reached the fifth floor, they could hear the large man coming down the stairs behind them.
On the fifth floor, Penelope stopped and looked into the darkness behind the door for an instant, then reached into the shadows and grabbed a broom.
"You go first," she said.
"Not a chance!" whispered the Mouse, tightening her grip on her knife.
"You can't hurt him with a knife!" hissed Penelope. She held up the broom. "This will stop him."
The Mouse stared at her as the little girl placed the broom on the stairs, then ran down to the next landing.
"Hurry!" urged Penelope, as the large man came into view.
The Mouse raced down to the landing, then turned and prepared to do battle.
The man had a sonic pistol in his hand, and as he surged down the stairs he was so intent upon his quarry that he didn't see the broom until he tripped over it. He careened off a wall, grunted in surprise, then fell heavily down the stairs, bellowing in pain. As he rolled onto to the landing, the Mouse crouched down and expertly slit his throat.
Suddenly Penelope began crying, and wrapped her arms around the Mouse.
"Won't they ever stop?" she whimpered.
The Mouse, breathing heavily, stroked Penelope's blonde hair for a moment, then stepped back and held the little girl's face between her hands.
"Don't ever disobey my orders again," she said. "I told you to keep me between you and him."
"Now you're mad at me, too!" wept Penelope. "I thought we were friends."
"We are friends," said the Mouse. "That's why I'm mad at you. You might have been killed because you didn't obey me."
"But your knife wouldn't have hurt him," protested the little girl.
"Hurt him? It killed him."
"But you wouldn't have cut his neck. You would have stabbed his chest or his belly."
"It would have killed him just as dead."
Penelope shook her head. "It wouldn't have hurt him," she repeated stubbornly.
"Why do you keep saying that?" demanded the Mouse.
"Look," said Penelope, pointing to the dead man.
The Mouse knelt down and examined him, then looked up, surprised.
"He was wearing body armor!" she exclaimed.
"That's what I was trying to tell you."
"But it was hidden under his tunic," continued the Mouse. "How did you know it was there?"
"I didn't."
"But you said you did."
Penelope shook her head again. "I said I knew your knife wouldn't hurt him."
The Mouse frowned. "But you didn't know why?"
"No."
"And how did you know there was a broom behind that door?"
Penelope shrugged.
"I thought we were friends," said the Mouse. "Friends don't keep secrets from each other."
"I saw it," said Penelope.
"You've never been in this stairwell."
"I know."
"Then how could you have seen it?" persisted the Mouse.
"I saw it"—Penelope pointed to her head—"in here."