"You turn me loose with a sword," said the barbarian slowly, "and expect me to do just what you want?"

"Naturally," said Rayth, "I will keep your charming lady as a hostage." He smiled on Leda and a slow hot flush crept up her cheeks and stained her breast. "I shall see that she is not bored."

With a shave and a haircut, a decent tunic and a sword at his waist and a feather-cap tilted rakishly over one ear, Rikard could pass for anyone but the hunted rebel of Nyrac--a young guardsman off duty, perhaps, recruited from some recently conquered province and swaggering into the civilization which had swallowed his people. He drew no special attention as he pushed through the crowded hubbub of the city, except from an occasional bold-eyed maiden.Toward the north side of the dome, roughly at ground level, was the area of those who were more than simple freemen without being quite nobles--merchants, shopkeepers, independent artisans of all kinds. Moving through that district, Rikard was struck by the bearing of the folk, neither servile nor haughty, neither uncouth nor overly mannered, a more civilized version of the barbarians' egalitarianism. It occurred to him that this class was an element which had entered into no one's calculations.

But he had a mission, and the farther he went the more desperate it began to seem. _There's little choice_, he thought grayly. _If I'd refused, he'd have had me slain then and there. But that I, who was chief over the freemen of Nyrac, should sink to be Rayth's assassin--!_ Kill the Chief Engineer of Coper City. Rayth had shown him the layout, warned him that the Temple had its own guards, and said that several of his men had attempted the job before and failed bloodily. On the other hand, could he but accomplish his task and fight his way out of the Temple, there'd be a gang of the prince's bully boys waiting to escort him home. Rikard had pulled off more daring stunts than this.

As to why the old man should be murdered, Rayth had said little except that he stood in the way of certain plans, and Rikard, who had small tenderness for any Copers, didn't inquire further.

He cast a glance behind him now and again as he thrust through the crowds which swarmed and eddied around bazaars, taverns, and playhouses, and once or twice thought he glimpsed a couple of the prince's hard-faced personal guards lounging inconspicuously after him--but he wasn't sure, the mob was too much a blend of every element in Luna. A richly dressed, pot-bellied merchant borne in a litter by four slaves; a pair of gay young warriors staggering out of 

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