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. Will you do that also?"
"Why, of course, Pop, if that's what you want."
"Count it as one last favor to an old man who tried to do right by you and would have done better had he been able. It's the very last thing I want from you, son. Don't bother to burn an offering for me at the temple, just do these two things: deliver a message and one more thing, whatever the man suggests that you do."
"I will, Pop," Thorby answered solemnly.
"All right. Let's get busy."
The "man" turned out to be any one of five men. Each was skipper of a starship, a tramp trader, not of the Nine Worlds but occasionally picking up cargoes from ports of the Nine Worlds. Thorby thought over the list. "Pop, there's only one of these ships I recall ever putting down here."
"They all have, one time or another."
"It might be a long time before one showed up."
"It might be years. But when it happens, I want the message delivered exactly."
"To any of them? Or all of them?"
"The first one who shows up."
The message was short but not easy, for it was in three languages, depending on who was to receive it, and none of the languages was among those Thorby knew. Nor did Baslim explain the words; he wanted it learned by rote in all three.
After Thorby had stumbled through the first version of the message for the seventh time Baslim covered his ears. "No, no! It won't do, son
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