But quite unbeknownst to Columbine, Lucifer and Little Levy Balquhidder, disguised as Blondin and Blondini, travelling minstrels, were already working their way around the habitable parts of Gor, singing for their supper and picking up any information which came their way as tid-bits of gossip, rumour, tales out of school; it was Levy who had come up with the plan, raddled up their parti-coloured costumes, used his skills developed as an infant cybernat back home in Scotland to hack into the Gorneto so that they were always one step ahead of the Gorsecs Force which was ever on the lookout for escaped slaves, eased Lucifer's aching limbs and sore feet with lenitive massage, and curtsied as Lucifer/Blondin bowed deeply in response to their audience's ovations when they finished their nightly show; it was also Levy – och, let's keep to their cover – Blondini, who sang the sweet song Columbine had always loved, and would hum even when they were both back among the other spirits, swirling around the Creator; but that is all by-the-by, and for the nonce, it is a might of darkness and mizzle, as through the rain and gloom the intrepid pair espy a wayside inn with the sign of The Jolly Roger – oh yes, even on Gor and far from the sea, for here Pirates be found aways inland, and law-abiding wayfarers take their lives in their own hands when they venture afield on such a night, but the lights were gleaming and they soon were upon the place: "perhaps this will atone for our futile efforts so far," said Blondin, and Blondini glanced at the faint moon, directly beyond and hidden by it is Earth, and she hummed the refrain she knew so well, but gazing into the sky she failed to see a side-glass in a passing coach where the curtain parted for an instant and a wan face peeped out and saw . . . . . !