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and quickly away, and he vaguely wondered why.
 
What’s the matter with the red-headed kid
 
? He suddenly felt faint and swayed, and Desideria said quickly, “Go with your brother, Melitta; I have many plans to make. I will come for you at sunset.”

Too disoriented and confused to do anything else, Barron let Melitta lead him through the suddenlystrange corridors to a room where he knew he had slept the night before but which he had neverconsciously seen before. She stood looking down at him, distressed.

“Storn, what’s happened? Are you ill? You look at me so strangely—
Storn! Loran
!” Her voice rose in

sudden panic, and Barron put out a hand to quiet her.

“Take it easy, kid—” He realized he was speaking his own language and shifted back, with some effort into the tongue Storn and his sister spoke together. “Melitta, I’m sorry,” he said with an effort, but her eyes were fixed on him in growing horror and understanding.

“The telepathic damper,” she whispered. “Now I understand.
 
Who are you
 
?”

His admiration and respect for the girl suddenly grew. This must have been just about the most terrifyingand disconcerting thing that had ever happened to her. After she’d been so far, and been through somuch, and with help so near, to find that her brother was gone and she was alone with a stranger—astranger who might be raving mad, or a homicidal maniac, and in any case was probably mad—and shedidn’t run or scream or yell for help. She stood there white as a sheet, but she stood up to him andasked, “Who are you?”

God, what a girl!

He said, trying to match her calm, “I think your brother told you my name, but in case he didn’t, it’s Dan Barron. Dan will do, but you’d better go on calling me Storn or some of these people may get wise. Youdon’t want that to happen when you’ve been through so much, do you?”

She said, almost incredulous, “You mean—after what my brother’s done to you, you’ll still help me?

You’ll go back with us to Storn?”

“Lady,” said Barron, grim and meaning it more than he had ever meant anything in his life, “Storn is the one place on this damn planet that I want to go more than anything else in the world. I’ve got to help you get those bandits out of your castle so that I can get to your brother—and when I get my hands on him, he’s going to wish he only had Brynat Scarface to deal with! But that’s nothing against
you
 
. So relax. I’ll help you play your game—and Storn and I can settle our private difficulties later on. Good enough?”

She smiled at him, setting her chin courageously.

“Good enough.”

XIII

«^»

THERE WAS an airplane.

Barron looked at it in amazement and dismay. He would have sworn that there were few surface craft

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on Darkover; certainly no fuel was exported from the Zone for them, and he had never known of one being sold on Darkover, except one or two in Trade City. But here it was, and obviously of Empire manufacture. When he climbed into it he realized that all the controls had been ripped out; in place of an instrument panel was one of those blue crystals. Desideria took her place before it, looking like a child, and Barron felt like saying. “Hey, are
you
 
going to fly this thing?” But he held himself back. The girl seemed to know what she was doing, and after what he had seen on Darkover, he wouldn’t put anything past them. A technology which could displace possession by another mind was worth looking into. He began to wonder if any Terran Empire man knew anything about Darkover.

Melitta was afraid to climb into the strange contrivance until Desideria comforted and reassured her;then, looking as if she were taking her life in her hands and didn’t care, she climbed in, resolved not toshow her fear.

The queer craft took off in an eerie silence. Desideria put on another of the telepathic dampers inside,saying almost in apology, “I am sorry—I must control the crystal with my own strength and I dare nothave random thoughts intruding.” Barron had all he could do to endure the vibrations. He was beginningto guess what they were. If telepathic power were a vibration, the damper was a scrambler to protect theuser of the force from any intruding vibrations.

He found himself wondering what Storn would have thought of covering in a few hours, the terrain whichhe and Melitta had covered so laboriously, on foot and horseback, in several days. The thought wasunwelcome in the extreme. He did not want to think about Storn’s feelings. Nevertheless, his beliefsabout the backwardness of Darkover had been gravely shaken in the last few hours. Their refusal ofweapons other than knife and sword now seemed an ethical point—and yet Aldaran, too, seemed tohave a valid ethical point, that this kept them struggling in small wars and feuds which depended for theirsuccess on who had the stronger physical strength.

But don’t all wars depend ultimately on that? Surely you don’t believe that rightness of a causewould mean that the right side would be able to get the biggest weapons? Would the feud between Brynat and Storn be easier settled if both of them had guns?

And if this was an ethical point rather than a lack of knowledge, was it just possible that theirlack of transit, manufacturing and the like might come from preference rather than lack ofability?

Damn it, why am I worrying about Darkovan ways when my own problems are so pressing?

He had deserted his work with Valdir Alton’s men at the fire station. He—or Storn in his body—hadstolen a valuable riding horse. He had probably irredeemably ruined himself with the Terran authorities,who had exerted themselves to give him this job, and his career was probably at a permanent standstill. He’d be lucky not to find himself on the first ship off Darkover.

Then it struck him that probably he need not go. The Empire might not believe his story but the Altons,who were telepaths, certainly would. And Larry had given him friendship, while Valdir was interested inthe field of his professional competence. Perhaps there would be work for him here. He suddenly facedthe awareness that he didn’t want to leave Darkover and that he had at last become caught up in thestruggles and problems of these people whose lives he had entered against his will.

I could kill Storn for what he did
—
 
but damn it, I’m glad it happened
.

But this was the briefest flash of insight, and it disappeared again, leaving him lost and bewildered.

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During the days as Storn he had grown used to Melitta’s companionship. Now she seemed strange andaloof and when he tried to reach out and touch her with his mind, it was an almost automatic movementand the low-keyed vibration of the telepathic damper interfered, making him feel dull, sick and miserable. He had expected to feel more at home flying than riding horseback but after a short time all he wishedwas that the flight would be over. Melitta would not look at him.

That was the worst of it. He longed for the flight to be over so that he could speak to her, touch her. Shewas the only familiar thing in this world and he ached to be near her.

Inconsistently, he was distressed when the flight ended and Desideria brought the craft expertly down ina small valley as quietly as a hovercraft. She apologized to Melitta for not coming nearer to Storn, butexplained that the air currents around the peaks were violent enough to crash any small craft. Barronwondered how a girl her age knew about air currents.
 
Oh hell, she’s evidently something special inthe way of telepaths, she probably feels ’em through her skin or her balance centers or something

.

Barron had no idea where they were. Since Storn had never seen the place—being blind—Storn’smemories were no good to Barron. But Melitta knew. She took charge, directing them toward amountain village where Darkovans swarmed out, welcoming Melitta with delight, and showing Desideriaa reverential awe which seemed to confuse the young girl— the first time Barron had seen Desideriataken aback—and even make her angry.

“I
 
hate
 
this,” she told him, and Barron knew she still thought she spoke to Storn. “In the old days there might have been some reason for treating the Keepers like goddesses. But now we know how to train them, there is no
 
reason
 
for it—no more than for worshipping an expert blacksmith because of his skill!”

“Speaking of blacksmiths,” said Barron, “how are we going to round up these forge people?”

She looked at him sharply and it was like the first time she had seen him. She started to say, “You and Melitta will have to manage that; I have never been among them,” and stopped, frowning. She said,almost in a whisper and less to Barron than herself, “You have changed, Storn. Something hashappened—” and very abruptly turned away.

He had almost forgotten that to her he was still Storn. Elsewhere the masquerade was over; the villagepeople ignored him. He realized that if these were people who lived near High Windward, they wouldknow all the Storns.

He did not try to follow what Melitta was saying to the villagers. He was definitely excess baggage onthis trip and he couldn’t even imagine why Melitta had wanted him to come back to Storn with her. Aftera time she came back to Storn and Desideria, saying, “They will provide horses and guides to thecaverns of the forge folk in the hills. But we should start at once; Brynat’s men patrol the villages everyday or two—especially since I escaped—just to make sure that nothing is happening down here; and if itwere known that they had helped me—well, I don’t want to bring reprisals on them.”

They started within the hour. Barron rode silently close to Melitta, but he didn’t try to talk to her. Therewas some comfort in her mere presence, but he knew that she felt ill at ease with him and he did notforce himself on her. It was enough to be near her. He spared a thought for Storn, and this time he pitiedhim.
 
Poor devil, to have come so far and been through so much and then be forced offstage forthe last act
 
.

He supposed Storn was lying entranced, high in his old wing of the castle, and if he was conscious at

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all—which Barron doubted—not knowing what had happened.
 
Hell, that’s a worse punishment than

anything I could do to him
 
!

He had been riding without paying much attention to where he was going, letting the horse choose hisown road. Now the air began to be filled with the faintly acrid smell of smoke. Barron, alert from his daysat the fire station, raised his head to sniff the wind, but the others rode on without paying attention.

Only Melitta sensed his attention and dropped back to ride at his side. “It’s not fire. We are nearing thecaverns of the forge people; you smell the fires of their forges.”

They rode up along a narrow trail that led into the heart of the mountains. After a while Barron began tosee dark caves lining the trail. At their entrances, small, swart faces peeped out fearfully. There were littlemen dressed in furs and leather, women in fur cloaks who turned shyly away from the strangers, andwrapped in fur, miniature children who looked like little teddy-bears. At last they came to a caverngaping like a great maw, and here Melitta and Desideria alighted, their guides standing close to them in amixture of fear and dogged protectiveness.

Three men in leather aprons, bearing long metal staves and with metal hammers thrust into theirbelts—hammers of such weight that Barron did not think he could have lifted them—strode out of thecavern toward Melitta. Behind them the fearful people came up and gathered, surrounding them. Thethree men were dark, gnarled, short of stature but with long and powerful arms. They made deep bowsto the women. Barron they ignored, as he had expected. The central one, with white patches in his darkhair, began to speak; the language was
 
Cahuenga
 
, but the pronunciation so guttural and strange that Barron could follow only one word in three. He gathered, however, that they were making Melittawelcome and paying Desideria almost more reverence than the village people had done.

There followed a long colloquy. Melitta spoke. It was a long speech that sounded eloquent, but Barrondid not understand. He was very weary, and very apprehensive without knowing why, and this kept himfrom the attempt to reach out and understand as he had done with Larry and Valdir.
 
How the devil have I picked up telepathic gifts anyhow? Contact with Storn
 
? Then the white-haired forge man spoke. His was a long chanting speech that sounded wild and musical, with many bows; again and again Barroncaught the word
 
Sharra
 
. Then Desideria spoke, and again Barron heard
Sharra
 
, repeated again andagain, to cries and nods from the little people gathered around them. Finally there was a great outcry andall the little people drew knives, hammers, and swords and flourished them in the air. Barron,remembering the Dry-towners, quailed, but Melitta stood firm and fearless and he realized it was anacclamation, not a threat.