Marah thundered on, a bronze Titan in the sultry glare. His gorget, his yellow eyes, the bosses on his kilt held points of angry flame. "You, Eran Mak, a Martian! Have you forgotten Kesh, and Balakar, and the Wells of Tamboina? Can you crawl to the Coalition like a _sindar_ for the sake of the bones they throw you? You, Tredrick! You've sold us out. Since when have _latniks_ been called to meddle in Romany's affairs?" Tredrick's cold voice was quite steady. "The Kraylens are beyond reach, Marah. A revolt will get you nothing. Do you want blood on your hands?" "My hand," said Marah softly. His hook made a burning, vicious arc in the hot light. "If there's blood on this, the Coalition spilled it when their Frontier Marshal lopped my sword-hand for raising it against him." The mob stirred and muttered. And Campbell said swiftly, "Tredrick's right. But there's still a chance, if you want to take it." Stella Moore put a hand on Marah's arm. "How?" Tredrick was still pretending he hadn't seen Campbell, pretending there weren't men crawling through dark tunnels to trap him. "It'll mean trouble. It may mean death or imprisonment. It's a million-to-one shot. You'd better give me up and forget it." The point of Marah's hook pricked under his jaw. "Speak quickly, little man!" "Okay. Tell 'em to behave. Then get me out of here, fast!" * * * * * Tredrick's men knew their way around. A lot of gypsies, moreover, who weren't with Tredrick, joined the hunt for the _latnik_. They didn't want trouble with the Spaceguard. Campbell stumbled through a maze of dark and stifling passages, holding Stella's hand and thinking of the Spaceguard ships sweeping closer. They were almost caught a dozen times, trying to get across Romany to the Fitts-Sothern. The hunt seemed to be an outlet for the pent feelings of Romany. Campbell decided he would never go hunting again. And then, just above where his ship lay, they stepped into a trap. They were in the Saturnian Quarter, in the hulk devoted to refugees from Titan. There were coolers working here. There was snow on the barren rocks, glimmering in weird light like a dark rainbow. "The caves," said Stella Moore. "The Baraki." There was an echoing clamor of voices all around them, footsteps clattering over metal and icy rock. They ran, breathing hard. There were some low cliffs, and a ledge, and then caves with queer blue-violet fires burning in them. Creatures sat at the cave mouths. They were small, vaguely anthropoid, dead white, and unpleasantly rubbery. They were quite naked, and their single eyes were phosphorescent. Marah knelt. "Little Fathers, we ask shelter in the name of freedom." The shouts and the footsteps were closer. There was sweat on Campbell's forehead. One of the white things nodded slightly. "No disturbance," it whispered. "We will have no disturbance of our thoughts. You may shelter, to stop this ugly noise."