ing, Thal," said Hoddan. To the red-headed man
he observed, "I suspect that call's been coming in all night. Something
was in orbit at sundown. You closed up shop and went home early, eh?"

"Why not?" rasped the red-headed man. "There's only one ship a month!"

"Sometimes," said Hoddan, "there are specials. But I commend your
negligence. It was probably good for me."

He charged one pistol, and snapped its butt shut, and snapped open
another, and charged it. There was no difficulty, of course. In minutes
all the pistols he'd brought from Walden were ready for use again.

He tucked away as many as he could conveniently carry on his person. He
handed the rest to Thal. He went competently to the pulsing call-signal.
He put headphones to his ears. He listened. His expression became
extremely strange, as if he did not quite understand nor wholly believe
what he heard.

"Odd," he said mildly. He considered for a moment or two. Then he
rummaged around in the drawers of desks. He found wire clips. He began
to snip wires in half.

The red-headed man started forward automatically.

"Take care of him, Thal," said Hoddan.

He cut the microwave receiver free of its wires and cables. He lifted it
experimentally and opened part of its case to make sure the thermo
battery that would power it in an emergency was there and in working
order. It was.

"Put this on a horse, Thal," commanded Hoddan. "We're taking it up to
Don Loris'."

The red-headed man's mouth dropped open. He said stridently:

"Hey! You can't do that!" Hoddan turned upon him and he said sourly:
"All right, you can. I'm not trying to stop you with all those hard
cases outside!"

"You can build another in a week," said Hoddan kindly. "You must have
spare parts."

Thal carried the communicator outside. Hoddan opened a cabinet, threw
switches, and painstakingly cut and snipped and snipped at a tangle of
wires within.

"Just your instrumentation," he explained to the appalled red-headed
man. "You won't use the grid until you've got this fixed, too. A few
days of harder work than you're used to. That's all!"

He led the way out again, and on the way explained to Fani:

"Pretty old-fashioned job, this grid. They make simpler ones nowadays.
They'll be able to repair it, though, in time. Now we go back to your
father's castle. He may not be pleased, but he should be mollified."

He saw Fani mount lightly into her own saddle and shook his head
gloomily. He cli