He moved cautiously now. He didn't see the lights again but knew he was going toward them. Ketrik was no stranger to this south desert. Now the old nameless awareness was with him. It may not have been anything he heard--but he suddenly knew that very close, just beyond the radius of his vision, unknown shapes moved through murky darkness. The very sands seemed to whisper the danger. But Ketrik heard other sounds now. The sounds he heard were sibilant footsteps and they were patient, very patient, as they kept pace with him. He became suddenly motionless, held his ears attuned. The soft footsteps stopped, but not before Ketrik determined that they were on both sides of him now and probably behind him as well. He nodded grimly and went on, no longer trying to tread softly. He loosened the electro in his belt. These might be Rajecs or they might be the scavenger rats that trailed a man until he dropped. In either event.... He knew very soon. They came hurtling out of darkness at him, great black shapes, silent and swift. But they were man-size, which meant they were Rajecs. His electro was out, but he didn't get a chance to use it. A muscular hand seized his arm and bore it painfully backward. Other Rajecs crowded in. Even at this close range Ketrik could see little except their eyes, feral as flaming topaz. Even Ketrik could not fight that which he could not see. But he tried, tried grimly until the weight of their bodies bore him down. He remembered that these people could see in darkness. They undoubtedly saw that he was "Martian," and his life would be forfeit unless.... He was trying to remember something else, something out of Rajec legendry. A single word. It came to him then, and he ceased fighting. He whispered the word fiercely. "_S'Relah!_" It was magic. The clutching hands loosened. He could feel the black muscular figures draw back, hesitant. "You are Martian!" one of them hissed. "But _S'Relah_, I tell you!" Ketrik spat the word. "I am one of you!" They helped him to rise, but kept firm grip on his arms. "We will see. Come." They went forward through darkness. Presently they were mounting a slight rise. From the top of it Ketrik looked down at the campfires of a Rajec caravan, a large one. As they moved down the slope, Ketrik realized he'd have to stick to his word. His mind raced, building up a brief but, he hoped, suitable story. He was sufficiently versed in Martian history. He knew that aeons ago vast tribes of these black-skinned Rajecs had been dominant on the planet. But the "Upper Martians," so called, had progressed phenomenally. They were superior in the arts, social government, science, and the "culture" of warfare. They had swept down from the north, expanding, building their cities and developing their waterways, the now famous Canals. A bitter thousand-years' war had driven the Rajecs ever southward into the merciless deserts.