The girl looked at the bench. Upon it lay the aura detector, unharmed from its water immersion, since it was completely sealed. Next to it there now stood an object rather like a compass, a thin, magnetic needle swinging gently on a central pivot.
“Perfect reaction,” Earmar said. “I have the compass tuned to Pasty Face’s aura, as given on the detector, and you observe that the needle moves every time he does.”
Though she had seen this uncanny instrument at work on other occasions, it never lost its fascination for Vanita. For a moment she studied the delicate oscillations of the needle, then she asked a question.
“How far away is Pasty Face? Obviously he’s due south of here, but at what distance?”
“From the energy reaction I’d say about five miles—and south of here are the poorest quar
