[Bene's mouth has gone dry. He shakes his head, and is near-paralyzed by the helplessness of their slowly dawning, shared realization: there are probably people in there right now.]
That was, [he reaches for the memory,] ...at least... seventeen, eighteen years ago.
[Bene nods, his throat tight and his stomach roiling. He stares at his desk.]
I'll help. However I can.
[It's not like he's going to be allowed anywhere near Minrathous again, although if the dream was any indication, he might be the perfect bait. Either way, it won't be his choice.]
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That was, [he reaches for the memory,] ...at least... seventeen, eighteen years ago.
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[ Byerly's voice is low. ]
You have to be certain.
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[Is he certain? If he turns out to be wrong, if it's just residual from the dream, will he be accused of treason again?]
It's a memory, [he hedges.]
There's a door in the wall, in her study. Maybe it's-- maybe it's for something else.
[He is not convinced.]
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We can - possibly divert agents to investigate. It would be dangerous, though. And our assets are few enough in number as it is.
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I'll help. However I can.
[It's not like he's going to be allowed anywhere near Minrathous again, although if the dream was any indication, he might be the perfect bait.
Either way, it won't be his choice.]