atisfy Rhes and his face cracked into a mirthless
smile. "They would think that, those junkmen. Can't move a meter outside
their own walls without an armor-plated machine as big as a barn. What
did they tell you about us?"

Again Jason knew a lot depended on his answer. This time he thought
carefully before speaking.

"Well ... perhaps I'll get that ax in the back of my neck for saying
this ... but I have to be honest. You must know what they think. They
told me you were filthy and ignorant savages who smelled. And you ...
well, had curious customs you practiced with the animals. In exchange
for food, they traded you beads and knives ..."

Both Pyrrans broke into a convulsion of laughter at this. Rhes stopped
soon, from weakness, but Naxa laughed himself into a coughing fit and
had to splash water over his head from a gourd jug.

"That I believe well enough," Rhes said, "it sounds like the stupidity
they would talk. Those people know nothing of the world they live in. I
hope the rest of what you said is true, but even if it is not, you are
welcome here. You are from off-world, that I know. No junkman would have
lifted a finger to save my life. You are the first off-worlder my people
have ever known and for that you are doubly welcome. We will help you in
any way we can. My arm is your arm."

These last words had a ritual sound to them, and when Jason repeated
them, Naxa nodded at the correctness of this. At the same time, Jason
felt that they were more than empty ritual. Interdependence meant
survival on Pyrrus, and he knew that these people stood together to the
death against the mortal dangers around them. He hoped the ritual would
include him in that protective sphere.

"That is enough for tonight," Rhes said. "The spotted sickness had
weakened me, and your medicine has turned me to jelly. You will stay
here, Jason. There is a blanket, but no bed at least for now."

Enthusiasm had carried Jason this far, making him forget the two-gee
exertions of the long day. Now fatigue hit him a physical blow. He had
dim memories of refusing food and rolling in the blanket on the floor.
After that, oblivion.

XVII.

Every square inch of his body ached where the doubled gravity had
pressed his flesh to the unyielding wood of the floor. His eyes were
gummy and his mouth was filled with an indescribable taste that came off
in chunks. Sitting up was an effort and he had to stifle a groan as his
joints cracked.

"G