"we've got to celebrate," but Bart stopped,
looking past them.

"Captain Vorongil!" he said, and went to greet the old Lhari. "I thought
you'd hate me, _rieko mori_." The term of respect fell naturally from
his lips.

"I did, for a time," Vorongil said quietly. "But I remembered the day we
stood on Lharillis, by the monument. And that you risked--perhaps your
life, certainly your eyesight--to save us from death. So when the Elder
asked for my estimate of your people, I gave it."

"I thought it sounded like you." Bart felt that his happiness was
complete.

"And now," Ringg cried, "let's celebrate! Meta, you haven't even told
him that he's free!"

But while the party got rolling, Bart wondered--free for what? And
after a little while he went out on the balcony and stood looking
down at the spaceport, where the _Swiftwing_ lay in shadow, huge,
beloved--renounced.

"What now, Bartol?" Vorongil's quiet voice asked from his elbow. "You're
famous--notorious. You're going to be rich, and a celebrity."

"I was wishing I could get away until the excitement dies down."

"Well," said Vorongil, "why don't you? The _Swiftwing_ ships out
tonight, Bartol--for Antares and beyond. It will be a couple of years
before your Eight Colors can be made over into an Interstellar line--and
as Raynor One has said to me several times, he'll have to handle all
those details, for you're not of age yet.

"I've been thinking. Now that we Lhari must share space with your
people, you'll need experienced men for your ships. Unless we all want
the disasters born of trial and error, we Lhari had better help you
train your men quickly and well. I want you to go back on the
_Swiftwing_ with me. Not an apprentice, but representative of Eight
Colors, to act as liaison between men and Lhari--at least until your own
affairs claim your attention."

Behind them on the balcony, Tommy appeared, making signals to Bart: "Say
yes! Say yes, Bart! _I_ did!"

Bart's eyes suddenly filled. Out of defeat he had won success beyond his
greatest hopes. But he did not feel all glad; he felt only a heavy
responsibility. Whether good or bad came of the gift he had snatched
from the stars, would rest in large measure on his own shoulders. He was
going back to space--to learn the responsibility that went with it.

"I accept," he said gravely.

"Oh, boy!" Tommy dragged Ringg into a sort of war dance of exuberant
celebration, pointing at the flaring glow of the spacep