"Let me get this straight," said the Mouse. "Are you telling me that you can see the future?"
"There are lots of futures," said Penelope. "I don't see all of them."
"What do you see?"
"I see what's going to happen next . . . sometimes."
"But you were wrong," said the Mouse. "You saw me stabbing the armored vest, and I didn't."
"I try to make the best future happen," said Penelope. She frowned. "But it doesn't always work. People still try to hurt me."
"You mean you could see what would happen if I tried to stab him, and also what would happen if I didn't?"
"It's not like reading a book," explained the girl. "I could see that if you stabbed him, he'd kill us. So I ran, and when we came to the fifth floor, I saw that if I picked up the broom and placed it a certain way on the staircase, he'd trip over it."
"And what about our room?" continued the Mouse. "Did you see someone inside it?"
Penelope nodded. "There was a man there. If we had gone in, he'd have shot us."
"How did you ever get captured by Jimmy Sunday or the alien or this man you call 32?"
Penelope shrugged. "Sometimes I can't get away in any of the futures I can see."
"How long have you been able to do this?"
"Do what?"
"See into the future."
"Always, I guess."
"How far ahead can you see?"
"It changes."
"A minute? An hour? A week?"
"Not a week," answered Penelope. "Usually just a few seconds. Sometimes maybe a minute." She paused. "And I can't always do it. Usually just when I have to."
"Like when someone's going to do something bad to you?"
"Yes."
"How does it work?" asked the Mouse. "Do you read their minds?"
"No. I just see what's going to happen, and then if I don't like it, I try to change it."
"That's quite a gift," said the Mouse. "Now I know why they want you back so badly."
"I don't want to go back," whined Penelope. "I want to stay with you."
"Nobody's sending you back," said the Mouse. She suddenly became acutely aware of the dead man at their feet. "We've got to get out of here." She began walking down the stairs.
"What about our clothes?" asked Penelope.
"Is the man still in our room?"
"I don't know."
"It's not worth the risk. We'll buy some new clothes on the next world. Come on."
They descended to the lobby, walked out the front door, and hailed a landcab.
As it approached the spaceport, Penelope tugged at the Mouse's sleeve.
"We shouldn't get out here," she said. "It's not safe."
"You're sure?"
Penelope nodded.
"But we have to get off the planet. Can you see how they plan to attack us?"
"No. I just know it's not safe."
"Then you don't know if we can elude them?"
"What does elude mean?"
"It means to keep away from them."
"I don't know," answered Penelope.
"All right," said the Mouse. "We'll play it safe." She leaned forward and instructed the driver to take them to the vehicle rental section. Once there, she paid off the driver and rented a landcar.
They drove through the streets of Haggard, found an all-night grocery store, bought a dozen sandwiches and a few drink containers, and then headed out of town.
"Where are we going?" asked Penelope, hugging Jennifer protectively.
"Away from anyone who wants to hurt you," answered the Mouse.
"Good," said Penelope. "You're my only friend." She leaned against the Mouse, and was sound asleep a moment later.
The Mouse drove through the night. The vegetation became increasingly sparse, and by sunrise she found herself on the outskirts of a vast desert. She pulled off the road, brought the vehicle to a stop, and began sorting through maps on the viewscreen.
"Where are we?" asked Penelope, waking up and rubbing her eyes.
"I'm not sure," said the Mouse, still going through maps. "Ah, here we are."
"Where?"
"The Devil's Anvil."
"What's that?"
"That's the name of the desert." She pointed to a tiny dot in the middle of it. "And this is a village called Ophir." She hit two buttons on the vehicle's computer, and the map was replaced by a readout. "One bar, one store, one hotel."
"Why would anyone build a city in the middle of a desert?" asked Penelope.
"Good question," said the Mouse. "Let's find out." She issued another command to the computer. "Hmm. We may be in luck."
"Why?"
"Because there's a diamond pipe about five miles from Ophir."
"What's a diamond pipe?"
"A mine," replied the Mouse. "They're still pulling diamonds out of it, or Ophir would be a ghost town."
"Why does that make us lucky?" persisted Penelope.
"Because where there's that kind of money, there's usually a ship or two. No mine owner is going to drive three hundred miles into the Devil's Anvil to check on business."
"He'd take a plane, not a spaceship."
"Maybe," said the Mouse. "But if he's from off-planet, he'll have a ship—and between you and me, I don't know why anyone would choose to live on this ugly little dirtball if he could afford to live somewhere else."
"And if he owns a diamond mine, he can afford to live somewhere else," concluded Penelope, inordinately proud of herself for following the Mouse's train of thought to its logical conclusion.
"Right," said the Mouse. She sighed. "Well, there's no sense wasting any more time. Let's go."
She pulled back onto the road and headed off across the Devil's Anvil.
After about sixty-five kilometers the road vanished, and the Mouse immediately slowed down.
"You can keep going fast," said Penelope. "The ground is hard here."
"I know," said the Mouse. "But if I don't slow down, we're going to leave a cloud of dust and sand, and that will make us easier to spot if anyone's following us." She turned to the girl. "Are they?"
Penelope shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well, since we don't know that they aren't, we'll do it the safe way."
"But it's hot."
"The air conditioner can only do so much," answered the Mouse. "The ground temperature must be close to 60 degrees Celsius. Just try not to think about it."
Penelope was silent for a moment. Then she turned to the Mouse. "The more I try not to think about it, the more I do," she complained.
"Then take a nap."
"But I just woke up."
"Then let's talk," said the Mouse. "Maybe that will take your mind off the heat."
"All right," agreed Penelope.
"Tell me about this man called 32."
Penelope shook her head. "I don't want to talk about people who were mean to me," she said adamantly.
"Suits me," said the Mouse. "Who hasn't been mean to you?"
"You and Merlin."
"There must have been someone else in your whole life."
The little girl was silent for a moment, lost in thought. "Maybe my mother," she said.
"Only maybe?"
"She let them take me away."
"She may not have had a choice."
"You had a choice," Penelope pointed out. "You didn't have to save me, but you did."
"You're not saved yet," said the Mouse. "First we've got to get off this world, and then connect with Merlin again."
"And then what?"
The Mouse shrugged. "I don't know."
"You won't make me go back?"
"No, I won't make you go back," said the Mouse. "I already told you that."
"Lots of people tell me things." Penelope paused. "Most of them lied."
"You're too young to be that cynical."
"What does that mean?" asked Penelope.
The Mouse sighed. "It means too many people have lied to you."
"We're talking about me again," complained Penelope. "I thought we were going to talk about you."
"I have a better idea," said the Mouse. "Let's talk about us."
"Us?"
"You and me."
"What about us?" asked the girl.
"Well, we're a team now."
"We are?" said Penelope, her face brightening.
The Mouse nodded. "We're together, aren't we?"
"Yes."
"And the same men who want you are after me, right?"
"Right."
"And if we get away, you're going to work with Merlin and me, aren't you?"
"I guess so."
"That makes us a team."
Penelope considered the statement for a moment, then smiled. "I like being a team with you."
"I like it too," said the Mouse. "And the first rule of being on a team is that you never keep secrets from your teammates."
"I don't know any secrets."
"Everyone knows some secrets."
"Not me."
"Even you," said the Mouse. "For example, you never told me where Jennifer came from."
Penelope looked at the battered doll, which was propped up next to her.
"My mother gave her to me."
"Where?"
"In the living room, I think."
"I mean, on what world?"
Penelope shrugged. "I don't remember."
"How did she die?"
"Jennifer's not dead. She's right here with us."
"I meant your mother."
"I don't know if she's dead," answered the girl.
"But you think she is."
Penelope nodded.
"Why?"
"Because she would have saved me if she was alive."
"Not if she didn't know where you were."
"You found me."
"I wasn't even looking for you," said the Mouse. "It was just a lucky accident." She paused. "If that's the only reason you have, then your mother might very well be alive. How about your father?"
"They took him away."
"They?" repeated the Mouse. "Who?"
"The men who came with 32. He didn't want them to take me, so they took both of us."
"And you haven't seen him since?"
"No."
"If your mother is alive, she must be looking for you."
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"She's afraid of me."
"Of you?"
"Yes."
"Why?" asked the Mouse.
"Because I'm different."
"You mean because you can see the future?"
Penelope nodded. "I used to think everyone could do it, so I talked about it. My mother didn't believe me, so I showed her that I was telling the truth. Then she was afraid."
"And your father," said the Mouse. "Was he afraid of you, too?"
"No."
"What did he do for a living?"
"I don't know."
"Was he rich?"
"I don't know." Penelope frowned. "We're talking about me again."
"We're talking about secrets," said the Mouse. "And now I'm going to tell you one."
"What is it?" asked Penelope eagerly.
"Someone very rich is trying to find you."
"You told me that already . . . but you didn't tell me why."
"Because you can see the future."
"What good does seeing the future do?" asked Penelope. "Everybody keeps chasing me, and no matter how hard I try to get away, sooner or later they catch me."
"Did you ever make a bet on anything?" asked the Mouse.
"No. My parents didn't like betting."
"But you know how it works?" continued the Mouse. "I say something is going to happen one way, you say it's going to happen another, and whoever turns out to be right wins the bet."
"I know."
"A person who could see the future would know in advance which side to bet on."
"It doesn't work that way," said Penelope.
"Oh?"
"When 32's people were making me do all those things, they tried to make me say how a coin would land or what numbers would be on some dice after they rolled them."
"And you couldn't do it?"
"Sometimes I could."
"Even if you just guessed like everyone else, you'd be right half the time on a coin flip," said the Mouse.
"I mean, sometimes I could see in my mind how the coins or the dice would land."
"But only sometimes?"
"Only sometimes."
"Were you ever wrong?" asked the Mouse. "I mean, on those times when you could see the coins in your mind?"
Penelope shook her head.
"That's why this rich person wants you," said the Mouse. "You don't have to know the right answer every time you tell him how to bet or invest. You just have to be right on those occasions that you do see the future."
"I wish I couldn't do it," said Penelope, frowning. "Then maybe everyone would leave me alone."
"But you saved my life by doing it," noted the Mouse.
"They wouldn't have been trying to kill you if I couldn't do it," said Penelope. "I wish I were just a normal little girl."
"But then we'd never have met," said the Mouse, offering her a reassuring smile.
Penelope sighed deeply. "I forgot about that," she admitted. "But I wish everyone would leave us alone."
The Mouse shrugged. "We'll just have to find a place where they will."
"Maybe we'll be safe at Ophir," suggested the girl.
"Nobody's safe in a mining town," answered the Mouse. "Everyone thinks everyone else is after their goods, and nobody ever trusts anybody. I'll be happy if we just live long enough to borrow or steal a ship." She paused. "God, it's getting hot in here!" She slammed her hand against the vehicle's air conditioner. "I wonder if this thing is still working."
Penelope reached a small white hand toward one of the vents. "It is." She paused. "Kind of," she added.
"They must be pulling some damned big diamonds out of the ground to be worth living out here in this heat," said the Mouse. She paused. "Well, we've each told the other a secret. Now I think we'd better invent one."
"Invent a secret?" repeated Penelope uncomprehendingly.
The Mouse nodded. "We need a secret signal so I'll know if someone wants to harm us."
"Like a secret code!" said Penelope excitedly. "Like the stories I saw on the video!"
"Just like them."
"How about if I do this?" suggested Penelope, screwing up her face in such a grotesque expression that the Mouse laughed out loud.
"It wouldn't be secret for very long."
"I could pretend to sneeze."
"No," said the Mouse. "We need something that doesn't draw attention to you. Try scratching your chin."
Penelope made a claw of her left hand and scratched her chin vigorously.
The Mouse shook her head. "Use one finger, and do it very gingerly."
The little girl did as she was instructed.
"That's it. If anyone is going to try to hurt us, that's what I want you to do."
"But what if I'm in another room, or you can't see me?" asked Penelope. "Maybe I should whistle a song."
"It will attract too much attention."
"But if someone wants to kill us, shouldn't we want to attract attention?"
The Mouse grimaced. "I'm not big enough to fight off an attacker; I just want a little warning so we can sneak out before they pounce." She paused. "Besides, someone has offered an awful lot of money for you. Attract enough attention in a town like Ophir, and four out of every five men who figure out who you are will be more likely to kidnap you than save you."
Penelope fell silent and practiced gently scratching her chin, and the Mouse increased their speed and tried to ignore the constantly increasing heat within the vehicle.
Two hours later they arrived at the tiny outpost of Ophir.