the little ragamuffin did
not speak the jargon of that slum, but the pure speech of Shainsa.

What I did then was as automatic as if it had been Juli. I pulled the
kid loose, shoved her behind me, and scowled at the brute who lurched
toward us.

"Make yourself scarce," I advised. "We don't chase little girls where I
come from. Haul off, now."

The man reeled. I smelled the rankness of his rags as he thrust one
grimy paw at the girl. I never was the hero type, but I'd started
something which I had to carry through. I thrust myself between them and
put my hand on the skean again.

"You--you Dry-towner." The man set up a tipsy howl, and I sucked in my
breath. Now I was in for it. Unless I got out of there damned fast, I'd
lose what I'd come all the way to Charin to find.

I felt like handing the girl over. For all I knew, the bully could be
her father and she was properly in line for a spanking. This wasn't any
of my business. My business lay at the end of the street, where Rakhal
was waiting at the fires. He wouldn't be there long. Already the smell
of the Ghost Wind was heavy and harsh, and little flurries of sand went
racing along the street, lifting the flaps of the doorways.

But I did nothing so sensible. The big lunk made a grab at the girl, and
I whipped out my skean and pantomimed.

"Get going!"

"Dry-towner!" He spat out the word like filth, his pig-eyes narrowing to
slits. "Son of the Ape! _Earthman!_"

"_Terranan!_" Someone took up the howl. There was a stir, a rustle, all
along the street that had seemed empty, and from nowhere, it seemed, the
space in front of me was crowded with shadowy forms, human and
otherwise.

"Earthman!"

I felt the muscles across my belly knotting into a band of ice. I didn't
believe I'd given myself away as an Earthman. The bully was using the
time-dishonored tactic of stirring up a riot in a hurry, but just the
same I looked quickly round, hunting a path of escape.

"Put your skean in his guts, Spilkar! Grab him!"

"Hai-ai! Earthman! _Hai-ai!_"

It was the last cry that made me panic. Through the sultry glare at the
end of the street, I could see the plumed, taloned figures of the
Ya-men, gliding through the banners of smoke. The crowd melted open.

I didn't stop to reflect on the fact--suddenly very obvious--that Rakhal
couldn't have been at the fires at all, and that my informant had led me
into an open trap, a nest of Ya-men already inside Charin. The crowd
e