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Larry did not panic. He felt sure that he need only retrace his steps a little way to come back into familiarground; or, perhaps, to go on a little further, and he would come out into a part of the city that he knew.

He went on a little way. The garden street suddenly ran out, and he found himself in a part of the citywhere he had never been before. It was so unlike anything he had seen so far that he seriously began towonder if he had strayed into a nonhuman district. The sun was low in the sky, and Larry began to worrya little about it. Could he, after all, find his way?

He looked around, trying to orient himself in the dimming light. The streets were irregular here, andtwisting; the houses close together, made of thatch and chinked pebbles daubed with what looked likecoarse cement, window-less and dark. The street seemed empty; and yet, as he stopped and looked

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around, Larry had the disconcerting notion that someone was watching him.

“Come on,” he said aloud, “don’t start imagining things.” He started seriously to take stock of his position. The spaceport lay to the east of the town, so that he should put his back to the sun, and keep on going that way.
 
Somebody’s watching me. I can feel it
 
.

He turned around slowly, getting his bearings. He ought to turn this way, into this street, and keep oneastward, then he couldn’t possibly miss the spaceport. It might be a long walk, but before long he oughtto get into some familiar district.
 
Before dark, I hope
 
. He looked back, nervously, as he turned into thenarrow street. Was that a step behind him?

He ordered himself to stop imagining things.
 
People live here. They have a right to walk down thestreet, so what if there is somebody behind you? Anyway, there’s nobody there
 
.

Abruptly the street turned a blind corner, ran into a small open square, and dead-ended in a low stonewall and the blank rear entrances of a couple of houses. Larry scowled, and felt like swearing. He’d haveto try again, damn it! And if the sun went down and he had to start wandering around in the dark, he’dbe in fine shape! He turned to retrace his steps, and stopped dead.

Across the square, several indistinct forms were coming toward him. In the lowering light, purple-edged,they seemed big and looming, and they seemed to advance on Larry with steady purpose. He started towalk on, then hesitated; they were moving—yes, they had cut off his return from the way he had come.

He could see them clearly now. They were boys and young men, six or eight of them, about his own ageor a little younger, shabbily dressed in Darkovan clothes; their rough-cut hair was lying on their shoulders,and one and all, they had a look of jeering malice. They looked rough, rowdy, and not at all friendly, and Larry felt a touch of panic. But he told himself, sternly,
 
They’re just a batch of kids. Most of them lookyounger than I am. Why should I assume they’re after me—or that they have any interest in me atall? For all I know, they might be the local chowder and marching society out for an evening onthe town
 
!

He nodded politely, and began to walk toward them, confident that they would part and let him through. Instead, the ranks suddenly closed, and Larry had to stop to keep from bumping headlong into theleader—a big, burly boy of sixteen or so.

Larry said politely, in Darkovan, “Will you let me pass, please?”

“Why, he talks our lingo!” The burly boy’s dialect was so rough that Larry could hardly make out the

words. “And what’s a
 
Terranan
 
from behind the walls doing out here in the city?”

“What you want here anyway?” one of the young men asked.

Larry braced himself hard, trying not to show fear, and spoke with careful courtesy. “I was walking inthe city, and lost myself. If one of you would tell me which way I should take to find the spaceport, Iwould be grateful.”

The polite speech, however, was greeted with guffaws of shrill laughter.

“Hey, he’s lost!”

“Ain’t that too bad!”

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“Hey,
 
chiyu
 
, you expect the big boss of the spaceport to come looking for you with a lamp?”

“Poor little fellow, out alone after dark!”

“And not even big enough to carry a knife! Does your mammy know you’re out walking, little boy?

Larry made no answer. He was beginning to be dreadfully afraid. They might simply take it out in roughlanguage—but they might not. These Darkovan street urchins’ might be just children—but they carriedwicked long knives, and they were evidently toughs. He began to measure the leader with his eyes,wondering if he could stand up to them if it came to a fight. He might—the big bully looked fat and out ofcondition—but he certainly couldn’t handle the whole gang of them at once.

Just the same, he knew that if he showed fear once, he was lost. If they were simply baiting him, a boldmanner might bluff them away. He clenched his fists, trying with the gesture to hold his voice tight, andstepped up to the bully.

“Get out of my way.”

“Suppose you
 
knock
 
me out of it, Terran!”

“Okay,” said Larry between his teeth, “you asked for it, fat guy.”

Quickly, with one hard punch, he drove his fist into the big boy’s chin. The youngster let out a surprised “Ugh!” of pain, but his own fists came up, driving a low, foul blow into Larry’s stomach. Larry, shockedas well as hurt, was taken aback. He staggered to recover his balance, gasping for breath.

The big boy kicked him. Then, in a rush, the whole gang was on him, shoving and jostling him rudely,yelling words Larry did not understand. They shouldered him back, hustling him, forming a circle aroundhim, pushing him off balance every time he recovered it, closing in to shove and jeer. Larry’s breath camein sobs of rage.

“
 
One
of you fight me, you cowards, and you’ll see—”

A kick landed in his shins; someone drove an elbow into his stomach. He slid to his knees. A fistjammed into his face, and he felt blood break from his lip. Cold terror suddenly gripped through him ashe realized that no one in the Terran Zone so much as knew where he was; that he could be not onlymauled but killed.

“Get away from him, you filthy gutter rabbits!” It was a new voice, clear and contemptuous, striking through the rude jeers and yells. With little gulps and gasps of consternation, the street urchins jostled back, and Larry, coming up slowly to his knees, wiping at his bloody face in the respite, blinked in the sudden light of torches.

Two tall men, green-clad, stood there carrying lights; but the lights, and all eyes, were focused on theyoung man who stood between the torches.

He was tall and red-haired, dressed in an embroidered leather jacket and a short fur cloak; his hand wason the hilt of a knife. His eyes, cold gray, were blazing as he whipped them with stinging words:

“Nine—ten against one, and he was still giving a good account of himself to you! So this proves that

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Terrans are cowards, eh?”

His eyes swung to Larry, and he gestured. “Get up.” The fat bully-boy was literally shaking. He bowedhis head, whining, “Lord Alton—”

The newcomer silenced him with a gesture. The smaller roughnecks looked sullen or overawed. Theyoungster in the fur cloak took a step toward Larry, and a cold, bleak smile touched his lips.

“I might have known it would be you,” he said. “Well, we’re under bond to keep peace in the city, but it

seems to me you were asking for trouble. What were you doing here?”

“Walking,” Larry said. “I got lost.” Suddenly he resented the cool, arrogant air of authority in the newcomer’s voice. He flung his head back, set his chin and looked the strange boy straight in the eye. “Is that a crime?”

The fur-cloaked boy laughed briefly, and suddenly Larry recognized the laugh and the face. It was thesame insolent redhead he had seen his first day on Darkover; the youngster who’d spoken to him at thespaceport gate.

The Darkovan boy looked around at the little knot of roughs, who had drawn back and wereshouldering one another restlessly. “Not so brave now, eh? Don’t worry, I didn’t come to stop yourfight,” he said, and his voice was contemptuous and clear. “But you might as well make it meansomething.” He looked back at Larry, then back to the gang. “Pick out someone of yournumber—someone his own size—and
 
one
 
of you will take him on.” His eyes raked Larry’s and headded, consideringly, “Unless you’re afraid to fight, Terran? Then I can send you home with mybodyguards.”

Larry bristled at the suggestion. “I’ll fight any five of them, if they fight fair,” he said angrily, and the

Darkovan threw back his head with a sharp laugh.

“One’s plenty. All right, you bully boys,” he snarled suddenly at the gang, “pick out your champion. Or

isn’t any one of you willing to stand up to a Terran without the whole rat-pack behind you?”

The street boys crowded together, looking warily at Larry, and the two looming guards, at the young

Darkovan aristocrat. There was a long moment of silence. The Darkovan laughed, very softly.

Finally one of the gang, a long lean young man almost six feet tall, with a broken tooth and a rangy,yellowed, evil face, spat on the cobblestones.

“I’ll fight the—” Larry did not understand the epithet. “I’m not afraid of any Terran from ’ere to the

Hellers!”

Larry clenched his fists, sizing up his new opponent. He supposed the street boy was a year or so olderthan himself. Tall and stringy, with huge fists, he looked a nasty customer. This wasn’t going to be easyeither.

Suddenly the boy rushed him, landing a pounding succession of blows before Larry could counter asingle punch. Larry was forced backward. One fist smashed into his eye; a second landed on his chin. Hestruggled to stay upright, hearing the street toughs yelling encouragement to their mate. The soundsuddenly made Larry angry. He rushed forward, head down, and brought up his fist in a hard, rockingblow to the roughneck’s chin; followed it up with a fast punch to the nose. The street boy’s nose began

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to trickle blood. He struck out at Larry, furiously, but Larry, his rage finally roused, easily countered the wildly flailing blows. He realized that in spite of the street boy’s longer reach, he didn’t have the advantage of knowing what he was doing. The ruffian got in one or two low body punches, but Larry, carefully mustering his knowledge of boxing, slowly forced him back and back, stepping on his toes, keeping him off balance, driving punch after punch at the boy’s nose and chin. Head down, the roughneck tried to clinch; grabbed Larry around the waist and grappled with him, struggling to bring his knee up; but Larry knocked his elbow across the boy’s face, managed to pry him loose, and drove up one single, hard punch in the eye.

The street boy reeled back, swayed, stumbled and crashed down full length on the cobblestones.

“Come on,” said Larry, standing over him in a rage. “Get up and fight!”

The tough stirred. He struggled halfway to his knees, swayed again, and collapsed in a heap.

Larry drew a long breath. His mouth was split and tasted of blood, his eye hurt, and his ribs werebruised; and his fists, knuckles skinned raw, felt as if he’d been banging on a brick wall with them.

The Darkovan aristocrat motioned to one of his bodyguards, who bent to look at the unconscious streetboy.

“Now, the rest of you tough fellows—make yourselves scarce!” His voice held stinging contempt. One

by one, the gang melted away into the lowering mists of darkness.

Larry stood with his knuckles throbbing, until no one was left in the square but himself, the Darkovanboy, and the two silent guards.

“Thanks,” he said, at last.

“No need to thank me,” the Darkovan lad said brusquely. “You handled yourself well. I wanted to see how you’d come off.” Suddenly, he smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve earned the freedom of the city. You’ve done something to deserve it. I’ve had an eye on you for several days, you know.”

Larry stared. “What?”

“Do you think a redheaded Terran can walk in places where no other Terran ever dared to go, without

half the city knowing it? And things come to the ears of the
 
Comyn
 
.”

Comyn
… Larry didn’t know the word.

The boy went on, “I was sure it was only a matter of time until you got into trouble, and I wanted to seewhether you’d handle it like the typical Terran”—again there was a trace of contempt in his voice— “andtry to scare off your attackers with cowards’ weapons, like your guards with their guns, or shout for thepolice to come and help you out of your troubles. No Terran ever settles his own affairs.” Then hegrinned. “But you did.”

“I couldn’t have without your help, though.”

The boy shook his head in disclaimer. “I didn’t lift a hand. I only made sure that the settlement was anhonorable one—and as far as I’m concerned, you can go where you like in the city, from now on. Myname is Kennard Alton. What’s yours?”