Catseye by Andre Norton Page A

not see anything wrong,” he reported.
    Kyger had turned, was walking back along the cages, and his fingers rasped across the netting of the one that held the kinkajou. The ball of fur remained unstirring. As the merchant joined Troy once more, he caught the younger man’s chin, turning his head directly to the light.
    â€œYou have a flash burn there.” His tone was almost accusing.
    â€œHe was armed with a blaster,” Troy explained.
    â€œWhat is going on here?”
    The yardmen in the doorway were elbowed aside; a patroller came in, blaster ready. Kyger answered with a bite in his voice.
    â€œWe had a visitor, who brought this—” He nodded to the sleeper cube on the top of a cage. The patroller scooped it up, his eyes cold.
    â€œWhat is the damage?”
    Kyger’s hand fell from Troy’s chin to his shoulder. He held that grip, propelling the younger man before him down the corridor.
    â€œSo far none, except a flash burn—too close for comfort. Mangy! Tansvel!” The yardmen snapped to attention. “Check out the rest of the rooms; report to me in the office. This officer”—Kyger nodded to the patroller—“will help you.”
    Troy stood quietly as his employer patted cov-aid dressing along the line of the burn. “Just grazed you.” Kyger retopped the container. “You were lucky.”
    â€œIt was dark and he was off orbit.”
    But Kyger was watching him with an intent stare as if he could see straight into Troy’s memory and pick out the events as they had really happened—the incredible fact that a wanting had struck from an animal’s mind to his.
    â€œHe must have been badly jigged,” Kyger commented. “So much so that I wonder. A sleeper makes this a Guild job—and I have one or two unfriends around here who might just employ such means to make trouble for me.” He was frowning a little. “Only Guild men do not get jigged—”
    â€œA novice might.”
    Kyger spread both hands on the top of his desk. “A novice? What do you know about this, Horan?”
    â€œI noticed a new buy-in man at the warehouse before they tried to lift us on the street.” Troy trusted now to Kyger’s own background. To a merchant-born he would not have made such an admission, unless the matter had proved far more serious than it was. But to a spacer who had himself lived by a more flexible code of ethics—or rather, a different code of ethics—he could confess that much.
    â€œA proving job for a novice.” Kyger considered that. “Might fit this flight pattern, at that. This buy-in man knows you?”
    â€œHe saw me at the warehouse—just as I saw him.”
    â€œAny challenge between you two?”
    â€œIf you mean was this personal—no. He was Dipple and I knew him by name, but we never messed together.”
    â€œSilly jig, hitting here. Unless it was just for nuisance value. There is nothing he could pick up to trot to the pass-boys.”
    Troy wondered about that himself. Portable property was to be had for the ingenious lifts of the Guild anywhere in Tikil, where theft had become both a business and a fine art. Why would anyone try to lift living creatures, most of which required special food and attention? There was only one possibility.
    â€œSome one-of-a-kind already promised?” he hazarded, knowing Kyger’s promises to his elite customers. A unique pet, certified to be the only one of its kind on Korwar, might be an inducement.
    â€œNo profit in that. It would have to be kept under cover.” Kyger put his finger on the weakness in that. Yes, the value of such a pet to the vain owner would be largely in its display before the envious.
    â€œTo keep someone else from having it?”
    Again that disconcerting stare from Kyger. Troy thought he had found another small piece in this match puzzle. That had hit, if not straight to the heart of the