whistling noise, and a sharp thud against the door planks. He did not need to look to know that an arrow stood in its wooden panels.

Grady closed the heavy wooden shutters carefully, not even jumping when a second arrow whickered through the last shutter as it swung. He lit a table lamp and took the heavy, seldom-used rifle from the wall. He did not need to check it; he had oiled and cleaned it once a week for two years. Instead, he laid it on the table and took a book down from a shelf.

"General Code of the Federation Authority," Grady read the words on the spine, and opened it. "Extent of responsibilities of individuals on mandated planets...."

Under the circumstances, Grady discovered, he could kill any number of Kya if he were so inclined. The Authority would require a full report, in quadruplicate, of the circumstances—and as another arrow struck the door, Grady wondered wryly who would make out that report.

Also, Grady was not in the least inclined to kill any Kya. If doing so would have saved his life, he would have shot any number of them without any particular qualms. But there were no reasons at all to think that killing any of them would do Grady any good. And Grady thoroughly understood why it was that they had to kill him. He was no more angry with the Kya than he had been with the Imperial Guards, five years before, when they had come up Kanno Hill with their band playing and their bayonets gleaming. He could remember how military and colorful they had looked, in comparison to the overalled, grimy rabble who stood beside him; and how they had come up that hill again and again, fewer of them each time, and the band losing a bit of verve on the last. Grady's anger then had been at the damned fool, whoever he was, who ordered those useless charges; and his anger now was with himself, because it had been his own mistake.

There was a growing murmur outside the agency. The villagers were gathering in the street, and in the yards behind the building. There was no way out now, and nowhere to go if there had been a way out.

Grady got up, and walked to the door. He opened the sliding panel a crack and peered out.

The rain had begun again, and through its thin gray curtain he could see the ranks of villagers, silent, standing around the house, along the railings, and watching. The men stood in front, each holding his weapons, his bow bent in his hands. There was Lahrsha, who had been brother in the Lodge to Grady, and 

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