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They turned into a sidestreet floored with uneven cobblestones, to narrow for any sort of vehicle. Hisfather walked swiftly, as if he knew where he was going, and Larry thought, not without resentment,
He’sbeen here before. He knows just where to go. Yet he never realized that I’d want to see all this,too
 
.

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The houses on either side were low, constructed of stone for the most part, and seemed very old. Theyall had a great many windows with thick, translucent, colored or frosted glass set in patterns into thepanes, so that nothing could be seen from outside. Between the houses were low stalls made of reeds orwood, and a variety of outbuildings. Larry wondered what the houses were like inside. As he passed oneof them, there was a strong smell of roasting meat, and behind one of the houses he heard the voices ofchildren playing. A man rode slowly down the street, mounted on a small brownish horse; Larry realizedthat he controlled the horse without bit or bridle, with only a halter and the reins.

The narrow street widened and came out into a much larger open space, filled with the low reed stalls,canvas tents with many-colored awnings, or small stone kiosks. It was dimly lighted with the flaringenclosed lights. Around the perimeter of the market, horses and carts were tied, and Larry looked atthem curiously.

“Horses?”

Montray nodded. “They don’t manufacture any surface transport of any sort. We’ve tried to get theminterested in a market for autocars or helicopters, but they say they don’t like building roads and nobodyis in a hurry anyway. It’s a barbarian world, Larry. I told you that. Between ourselves,” he lowered hisvoice, “I think many of the Darkovan people would like some of our kind of machinery andmanufacturing. But the people who run things want to keep their world just the way it is. They like itbetter this way.”

Larry was looking around in fascination. He said, “I’d hate to see this market turned into a bigmechanized shopping center, though. The ones on Earth are ugly.”

His father smiled. “You wouldn’t like it if you had to live with it,” he said. “You’re like all youngsters,you romanticize old-fashioned things. Believe me, the Darkovan authorities aren’t romantic. It’s justeasier for them to go on running things their own way, if they keep the people doing things the way theyalways have. But it won’t last long.” He sounded quietly certain. “Once the Terran Empire comes in toshow people what a star-travel civilization
 
can
 
be like, people will want progress.”

A tall, hard-faced man in a long, wrapped cloak gave them a sharp, angry glance from harsh blue eyes,then lowered thick eyelashes and walked past them. Larry looked up at his father.

“Dad, that man heard what you said, and he didn’t like it!”

“Nonsense,” his father said. “I wasn’t speaking that loud, and very few of them can speak Terran languages. It’s all part of the same thing. They trade with us, yet they want nothing to do with our culture.” He stopped beside a row of stalls. “Can you see anything you’d like here?” There was a row of blue-and-white glazed bowls in small and larger sizes, a similar row of green-and-brown ones. At the next stall there were knives and daggers of various sorts, and Larry found himself thinking of the Darkovan boy who had worn a knife in his belt. He picked up one and fingered it idly; at his father’s frown, he laughed a little and put it back. What would he do with it? Earthmen didn’t wear swords!

An old woman behind a low counter was bending over a huge pottery bowl of steaming, bubbling fat,twisting strips of dough and dropping them into the oil. Below the bowl, the charcoal fire glowed like thered sun, throwing out a welcome heat to where the boy stood. The strips of dough twisted like smallgoldfish as they turned crisp and brown; as she fished them out, Larry felt suddenly hungry. He had notspoken Darkovan since that first day, but as he opened his mouth, he found that the learning-tapes haddone their work well, for he knew just what he wanted to say, and how.

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“What is the price of your cakes, please?”

“Two sekals for each, young sir,” she said, and Larry, fishing in his pocket for his spending money,

asked for half a dozen. His father put down a scroll at the next stall, and came toward him.

“Those are very good,” he said, “I’ve tasted them. Something like doughnuts.”

The old woman was laying out the cakes on a clean coarse cloth, letting the sweet-smelling oil drain fromthem, dusting them with some pale stuff. She wrapped them in a sheet of brownish fiber and handed thepackage to Larry.

“Your accent is strange, young sir. Are you from the Cahuenga ranges?” As she raised her lined old

face, Larry saw with a shock that the woman’s eyes were whitish and unfocused; she was blind.
 
But she had thought his speech genuinely Darkovan
 
! He made a noncommittal reply, paying her for the cakes and biting hungrily into one. They were hot, sweet and crisp, powdered lightly with what tasted like crushed rock candy.

They moved down the twilit lane of booths. Now and again they encountered uniformed men from thespaceport, or occasional civilians, but most of the men, women and children in the market were Darkovans, and they regarded the Terrans, father and son, with faintly hostile curiosity.

Larry thought,
 
Everyone stares at us. I wish I could dress like a Darkovan and mix in with themsomehow so they wouldn’t take any notice of me. Then I could know what they were really like
 
. Gloomily he munched the doughnut cake, stopping to look over a display of short knives.

The Darkovan behind the stall said to Larry’s father, “Your son is not yet of an age to bear weapons. Ordo you Terrans not allow your young men to be men?” His smile was sly, faintly patronizing, and Larry’sfather frowned and looked irritated.

“Are you about ready to go, Larry?”

“Any time you say, Dad.” Larry felt faintly deflated and let down. What, after all, had he been

expecting? They turned back, making their way along the row of stalls.

“What did that fellow mean, Dad?”

“On Darkover you’d be legally of age—old enough to wear a sword. And expected to use them to

defend yourself, if necessary,” Wade Montray said briefly.

Abruptly and with a rush, the red sun sank and went out. Immediately, like sweeping wings, darknessclosed over the sky, and thin swirling coils of mist began to blow along the alleys of the market. Larryshivered in his warm coat, and his father pulled up his collar. The lights of the market danced andflickered, surrounded by foggy shapes of color.

“That’s why they call the planet Darkover,” Larry’s father said. Already he was half invisible in the mist.

“Stay close to me or you’ll get lost in the fog. It will thin out and turn to rain in a few minutes, though.”

Through the thick mist, in the flickering lights, a form took shape, coming slowly toward them. At first itlooked like a tall man, cloaked and hooded against the cold; then, with a strange prickling along his spine, Larry realized that the hunched, high-shouldered form beneath the cloak was not human. A pair of green

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eyes, luminescent as the eyes of a cat by lamplight, knifed in their direction. The non-human came slowly

on. Larry stood motionless, half-hypnotized, held by those piercing eyes, almost unable to move.

“Get back!” Roughly, his father jerked him against the wall; Larry stumbled, sprawled, fell, one hand

flung out to get his balance. The hand brushed the edge of the alien’s cloak—

A stinging, violent pain rocked him back, thrust him, with a harsh blow, against the stone wall. It was likethe shock of a naked electric wire. Speechless with pain, Larry picked himself up. The nonhuman,unhurried, was gliding slowly away. Wade Montray’s face was dead white in the flickering light.

“Larry! Son, are you hurt?”

Larry rubbed his hand; it was numb and it prickled. “I guess not. What was that thing, anyhow?”

“A
Kyrri
 
. They have protective electric fields, like some kinds of fish on earth.” His father looked

somber. “I haven’t seen one in a human town for years.”

Larry, still numbed, gazed after the dwindling form with respect and strange awe. “One thing’s for sure, Iwon’t get in their way again,” he said fervently.

The mist was thinning and a fine spray of icy rain was beginning to fall. Not speaking, Wade Montrayhurried toward the spaceport; walking fast to keep up—and not minding, because it was freezing coldand the rapid pace kept him warm—Larry wondered why his father was so silent. Had he simply beenafraid? It seemed more than that..

Montray did not speak again until they were within their own rooms in Quarters A, the warmth andbright yellow light closing around them like a familiar garment. Larry, laying his coat aside, heard hisfather sigh.

“Well, does that satisfy your curiosity a little, Larry?”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Montray dropped into a chair. “That means no. Well, I suppose you can visit the tourist section and themarket by yourself, if you want to. Though you’d better not do too much wandering around alone.”

His father dialed himself a hot drink from the dispenser, came back sipping it. Then he said, slowly, “Idon’t want to tie strings on you, Larry. I’ll be honest with you; I wish you hadn’t been cursed with thatinfernal curiosity of yours. I’d like it better if you were like the other kids here—content to stay an Earthman. It would take a load off my mind. But I’m not going to forbid you to explore if you want to. You’re old enough, certainly, to know what you want. If you’d been brought up here, you’d beconsidered a grown man—old enough to wear a sword and fight your own duels.”

“How did you know that, Dad?”

His father did not look at him. Facing the wall, he said, “I spent a few years here before you were born.

I never should have come back. I knew that. Now I can see—”

He broke off sharply, and without another word, he went off into his own bedroom. Larry did not seehim again that night.

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III

«^»

IF LARRY’S father had hoped that this glimpse of Darkover would dim Larry’s hunger for the worldoutside the Terran Zone, he was mistaken. The faint, far-off glance at strangeness had whetted Larry’scuriosity without satisfying it.

But after all, he didn’t forbid me to leave the Terran Zone
.

Larry told himself that, defiantly, every time he crossed the gates of the spaceport and went out into thecity. He knew his father disapproved, but they never spoke of it.

On foot, alone, he explored the strange city; at first staying close to the walls of the spaceport, withinsight of the tall landmark-beacon of the Quarters Buildings. Terrans were a familiar sight, and the Darkovans of the sector paid little attention to the tall, red-haired young Terran. Some of theshopkeepers, when they found that he could speak their language, were inclined to be friendly.

Heartened by these expeditions into the city, Larry gradually grew bolder. Now and again he venturedout of the familiar spaceport district, exploring an unusually alluring side street, walking through anunfamiliar court or square.

One afternoon he stood for an hour near the door of a forge, watching a blacksmith shoeing one of thesmall, sturdy Darkovan horses with light strong metal shoes. You didn’t see things like that on Earth, notin this day and age. Horses were rare animals, kept in zoos and museums.

He was aware, now and then, of curious or hostile glances following him. Terrans were not overlypopular in the city. But he had been brought up on Earth, a quiet and well-policed world, and hardlyknew what fear was. Certainly, he thought, he was safe on the public streets during the daylight hours!

It was a few days after he had watched the blacksmith at work. He had gone back to that quarter,fascinated by the sight; and then, lured by a street lined with gardens of strange, low-hanging trees andflowers, he had walked down court after court. After a time, he began to realize that he had taken littleheed of his bearings; the street had turned and twisted several times, and he was no longer very surewhich way he had come. He looked around, but the high houses nearby concealed the beacons of thespaceport, and he was not sure which way to go.