this city was not really part of the old dead planet, of the dark barrens that rolled away beneath the night. This was the place of the rocket-men, the miners, the schemers, the workers, who had come from another, younger world. Their bars and entertainment houses flung a sun-like brilliance. Their ships, lifting majestically skyward from the distant spaceport, wrote their flaming sign on the sky. Only here and there moved one of the hooded, robed humanoids who had once owned this world. The next corner, said the whisper in Hyrst's mind. Turn there. No, not toward the spaceport. The other way. Hyrst thought suddenly, "Shearing." Yes? "I am being followed." His physical ears heard nothing but the voices and music. His physical eyes saw only the street crowd. Yet he knew. He knew it by a picture that kept coming into his mind, of a blurred shape moving always behind him. Of course you're being followed, came Shearing's thought. I told you they've been waiting for you. This is the corner. Turn. Hyrst turned. It was a darker street, running away from the lights through black warehouses and on the labyrinthine monolithic houses of the humanoids. Now look back, Shearing commanded. No, not with your eyes! With your mind. Learn to use your talents. Hyrst tried. The blurred image in his mind came clearer, and clearer still, and it was a young man with a vicious mouth and flat uncaring eyes. Hyrst shivered. "Who is he?" He works for the men who have been waiting for you, Hyrst. Bring him this way. "This—way?" Look ahead. With your mind. Can't you learn? Stung to sudden anger, Hyrst flung out a mental probe with a power he hadn't known he possessed. In a place of total darkness between two warehouses ahead, he saw a tall man lounging at his ease. Shearing laughed. Yes, it's me. Just walk past me. Don't hurry. Hyrst glanced backward, mentally at the man following him through the shadows. He was closer now, and quite silent. His face was tight and secret. Hyrst thought, How do I know this Shearing
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