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Terrans, as such,” he said. “Without offense to you personally. It’s true that we have wars on Darkover, but they are small local hand-to-hand skirmishes; they seldom get bigger than this—” again he motioned toward the blackening ruin of the Ranger station. “The individual who makes trouble is promptly punished and the matter ends there, without involving a whole countryside.”

“But—” Larry hesitated, remembering he was Valdir’s guest. The older man said encouragingly, “Go

ahead.”

“Kennard has told. me something of this, sir. You have long-lived feuds and when a troublemaker is punished, his family takes revenge, and doesn’t this lead to more and more trouble over the years? Your way doesn’t really
 
settle
 
anything. Really lawless people—like these bandits—ought to be dealt with by the law, shouldn’t they?”

“You’re entirely too clever,” Valdir said, with a bleak smile. “That’s the one flaw in the system. We use their own methods to revenge ourselves on them; they raid us, we raid them back, and we’re as bad as they are. Actually, Larry, it goes deeper than that. Darkover seems to be in one of those uncomfortable times to live in—a time of change. And having the Terrans here hasn’t helped. Again—without offense to you personally—having a highly technical civilization among us makes our people dissatisfied. We live the way men were meant to live—in close contact with real things, not huddled in cities and factories.” He looked around, past the burnt station, at the high mountains, and said, “Can’t you see it, Larry?”

“I can see it,” Larry admitted, but a brief stab of doubt struck at him. When he had said the same thing, his own father had accused him of being a romantic. The Darkovans seemed to want to go on living as if change did not exist, and whether they liked it or not, the space age was here—and they
 
had
 
chosen to let the Terran Empire come here for trade.

“Yes,” Valdir said, reading his thoughts. “I can see that too—change is coming, whether we like it or not. And I want it to come in an orderly fashion, without upheaval. Which means I’ve made myself awfully damned unpopular with a lot of people in my own caste. For instance, I organized this defense system of border stations and Rangers, so that every farm and estate wouldn’t have to stand alone against raids by bandits from across the Kadarin. And there are some people who find this a clear

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violation of our code of individual responsibility.” He stopped. “What’s the matter?”

Larry blurted out, “You’re reading my mind!”

“Does that bother you? I don’t pry, Larry. No telepath does. But when you’re throwing your thoughts at

me so clearly—” he shrugged. “I’ve never known a Terran to be so open to rapport.”

“No,” Larry said, “it doesn’t bother me.” To his own surprise, that was true. He found that the idea didn’t bother him at all. “Maybe if more Terrans and Darkovans could read each other’s minds they’d understand one another better, and not be afraid of each other, any more than you and I are afraid of each other.”

Valdir smiled at him kindly and stood up. “Time to get on the road again,” he said; then breaking off,added very softly, “But don’t deceive yourself, Larry. We are afraid of you. You don’t know, yourself,how dangerous you can be.”

He walked away, quickly, while Larry stared after him, wondering if he had heard right.

VI

«^»

THE ROAD into the valley was steep and winding, and for some time Larry had enough to do to keephis seat in the saddle. But soon, the road widened and became easier, and he realized that he had beensmelling, again, the smoke from the burned station. Had the wind changed? He raised his head, slowinghis horse to a walk. Almost at the same moment, Valdir, riding ahead, raised his arm in signal, andstopped, turning his head into the wind and sniffing, nostrils flared wide.

He said, tersely, “Fire.”

“Another station?” one of the Darkovans asked.

Valdir, moving his head from side to side—almost, Larry thought, as if he expected to hear the sound offlames— suddenly froze, statue-still. At the same moment Larry heard the sound of a bell: a deep-toned,full-throated bell tone, ringing through the valley. It tolled over and over, ringing out in a curious pattern ofsound. While the little party of riders remained motionless, still listening intently, another bell farther away,fainter, but repeating the same slow rhythm, took up the ringing, and a few minutes later, still fartheraway, a third bell added a deep note to the choir.

Valdir said, harshly, “It’s the fire-bell! Kennard, your ears are better than mine—which ring is it?”

Kennard listened intently, stiffening in his saddle. He tapped out the rhythm with his fingers, briefly.

“That’s the ring from Aderis.”

“Come on, then,” Valdir rapped out. In another minute they were all racing down the slope; Larry, startled, jerked his reins and rode after them, as fast as he could. Keeping his seat with an effort, not wanting to be left behind, he wondered what it was all about.

As they came over the brow of a little hill, he could hear the still-clamoring bell, louder and moreinsistent, and see, lying in the valley below them, a little cluster of roofs—the village of Aderis. The streets

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were filled with men, women and children; as they rode down from the slope into the streets of the

village, they were surrounded by a crowd of men who fell silent as they saw Valdir Alton.

Valdir slid from his saddle, beckoned his party closer, Larry drawing close with them. He found himselfbeside Kennard. “What is it, what’s going on?”

“Forest fire,” Kennard said, motioning him to silence, listening to the man who was still pointing toward the hills across the valley. Larry, raising his head to look where the man pointed, could see only a thick darkening haze that might have been a cloud—or smoke.

The crowd in the village street was thickening, and through it all the bell tolled on.

Kennard, turning to Larry, explained quickly, “When fire breaks out in these hills, they ring the bells fromthe village that sees it first, and every village within hearing takes it up. Before tonight, every able-bodiedman in the countryside will be here. That’s the law. It’s almost the only law we have that runs past theboundaries of a man’s own estate.”

Larry could see why; even in a countryside that scorned impersonal laws, men must band together tofight the one great impersonal enemy of fire. Valdir turned his head, saw the two boys standing by theirhorses; and came swiftly toward them. He looked harried and remote again, and Larry realized whysome men were afraid of the Alton lord when he looked like this.

“Vardi will take the horses, Kennard. They’re going to send us forward into the south slopes; they need fire-lines there. Larry—” he frowned slightly, shaking his head. Finally he said, “I am responsible for your safety. The fire may sweep down this slope, so the women and children are being sent to the next town. Go with them; I will give you a message to someone there who can have you as a guest until the emergency is over.”

Kennard looked startled, and Larry could almost read his thoughts; the look in Kennard’s eyes was toomuch for him. Should he, the stranger, be sent to safety with the women, the infirm, the little children?

“Lord Alton, I don’t—”

“I haven’t time to argue,” The Darkovan snapped, and his eyes were formidable. “You’ll be safe enough

there.”

Larry felt a sudden, sharp-flaring rage, like a physical thing.
Damn it, I won’t be sent out of the waywith the women! What do they think I am
 
? Valdir Alton had begun to turn away; he stopped short, soabruptly that Larry actually wondered for a moment if he had spoken his protest aloud.

Valdir’s voice was harsh. “What is it, Larry? Be quick. I have a place to fill here.”

“Can’t I go with the men, sir? I—” Larry sought for words, trying to put into words some of the angry

thoughts that struggled in his mind.

As if echoing his thoughts, Valdir said, “If you were one of us—but your people will hold me responsibleif you are harmed…”

Larry, catching swifly at what Valdir had told him of Darkovan codes, retorted, “But you’re dealing withme, not with all my people!”

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Valdir smiled, bleakly. “If that’s the way you want it. It’s hard, rough work,” he said, warningly, but

Larry did not speak, and Valdir gestured. “Go with Kennard, then. He’ll show you what to do.”

Hurrying to join Kennard, Larry realized that he had crossed another bridge. He could be accepted bythe Darkovans on their own terms, as a man—like Kennard—and not as a child to be guarded.

After a confused interval, he found himself part of a group of horsemen, Valdir in the lead, Kennard athis side, half a dozen strange Darkovans surrounding him, riding toward the low-lying haze. As they rode,the smell of smoke grew stronger, the air heavy and thick with curious smells; flecks of dust hung in theair, while bits of black soot fell on their faces and stung their eyes. His horse grew restive, backing andwhinnying, as the smoke thickened. Finally they had to dismount and lead their horses forward.

As yet, the fire had been only a smolder of smoke lying against the sky, an acrid and stinging stench; butas they came between the two hills that cut off their view of the forested slopes, Larry could see acrimson glow and hear a strange dull sound in the distance. A small rabbitlike beast suddenly scuddedpast, almost under their horses’ hooves, blindly fleeing.

Valdir pointed. He made a sharp turn past a high hedge, and came out into a broad meadow whosegrayish high grass was trampled and beaten down. A large number of men and boys were milling aroundat the center; there was a tent pitched at the edge, and after a moment of confusion Larry realized that therandom groupings were orderly and businesslike. An elderly man, stooping and hobbling, came to leadtheir horses away; Larry gave up his reins and hurried after Kennard to the center of the field.

A boy about his own age, in a coarse sacking shirt and leather breeches, motioned to them. He noddedto Kennard in recognition, looked at Larry with a frown and asked, “Can you use an axe?”

“I’m afraid not,” Larry said.

The Darkovan boy listened briefly to his accent, but shrugged it aside. “Take this, then,” he said, andfrom a pile of tools handed Larry a thing like a long-toothed, sharp rake. He waved him on. Raising hiseyes to the far end of the meadow, Larry could see the edge of the forest. It looked green and peaceful,but over the tops of the trees far away, he saw the red glare of flame.

Kennard touched his arm lightly. “Come on,” he said, and gave Larry a brief wry grin. “No doubt aboutwhich way we’re going, that’s for sure.”

Larry put the rake over his shoulder and joined the group of men and boys moving toward the distantglow.

Once or twice during that long, confused afternoon, he found himself wondering, remotely, why he hadgotten himself into this, but the thought was brief. He was just one of a long line of men and boys spreadout, with rakes and hoes and other tools, to cut a fire-line between the distant burning fire and the village. Crude and simple as it was, it was the oldest known technique for dealing with forest-fires—create awide space where there was nothing for it to burn. With rakes, hoes, spades and shovels, they clearedaway the dry brush and pine-needles, scraped the earth bare, chopped up the dry grass and made awide swath of open ground where nothing could burn. Men with axes felled the trees in the chosenspace; smaller boys dragged the dead trees and brush away, while behind them came the crew thatscraped and shoveled the ground clear. Larry quickly had an ache in his muscles and his palms stung andsmarted from the handle of the rake, but he worked on, one anonymous unit in the dozens of men thatkept swarming in. When one spot was cleared they were moveed on to another. Younger boys broughtbuckets of water around; Larry drank in his turn, dropping the rake and lowering his lips to the bucket’s

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edge. When it was too dark to see, he and Kennard were called out of the line, their places taken by a fresh crew working by torchlight, and they stumbled wearily down the slope to the camp, lined up for bowls of stew ladled out by the old men keeping the camp, and, wrapping themselves in blankets, threw themselves down to sleep on the grass, surrounded by young men and old.