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Rowan nodded, sighed. Her hands were folded calmly in her lap. "I've been expecting you. Or them. The Hung." She shrugged. "I didn't know which would find me first."
She smiled, lopsided. "Ironic. All these years, I've listened for the footstep behind my back. When it finally comes, I don't hear it." Rowan looked up at him steadily. "I'm glad it was you, Xris. Glad and ... strangely enough ... relieved." She glanced around. "It's all over at last."
Xris was at a loss. This was certainly not what he'd expected. He'd been imagining the fear. The look of guilt. The frantic plea for understanding, for life--which he would take grim pleasure in denying. He hadn't expected resignation, sadness. It was starting to unnerve him.
He brought up the mental picture of Ito.
"You're going to die, Rowan." Xris held up his metal hand, wiggled the thumb. "There's a needle here. When I touch you, it'll inject poison into you. It's a pity," he added, working himself back into his comfortable anger, "but you won't feel any pain. Not like Ito. Not like me. You'll be unconscious for about an hour--long enough for me to leave-and then you'll die. Of unknown causes. This leaves no trace, and there's no antidote."
Rowan listened to all this gravely, as she once used to listen to Xris outlining a plan for a bust. When Xris was finished, she sat motionless, looking up at him
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