Jorak had a friendly smile for Smith when he entered their room. "There's a card for you in the box, Smith. Read it." Jorak, it seemed, had stopped playing with his name. Smith took the card, read it. "_Smith of Earth, report to Registrar at once._" "You know why, don't you?" Jorak asked him. But the smile was no longer friendly. "How should I know?" "Trouble, that's what. But you asked for it. Psi and Wortan don't mix, barbarian." Smith was glad when he hardly felt any impulse to strike the purple man. But he said, mocking Jorak's own tones, "Don't provoke me," and Jorak cowered in a corner. * * * * * Smith looked into the banks of the Registrar's lights, spoke into the speaker. "Smith of Earth," he said. This time his voice didn't boom with loudness. And it didn't seem to matter much anymore. And this time, the Registrar's voice wasn't so femininely petulant. It sounded masculine, authoritative. "Smith of Earth. Item. Garnot of Jlob feels you are an inferior history student, recommends withdrawal from the school. "Item: Sog-chafka of Wortan announces your wanton use of psi-powers in Wortan fighting, recommends clemency because you are a barbarian. "Item: Kard of Shilon wants to meet you in Wortan again. Promises to kill you. "Item: both Jorak of Gyra and Geria of Bortinot have questioned your mentality, want you tested." Vaguely Smith listened. He felt removed, resigned. But then certain words struck hard.... "_ ... Geria of Bortinot questions your mentality...._ "Smith of Earth. Are you listening?" "I'm listening," Smith said. "I feel you have two choices," the Registrar said. "We can request your withdrawal from the school, or we can keep you here under observation and give you an exhaustive battery of tests. The decision is in your hands." "_ ... Geria of Bortinot questions your mentality...._" "_ ... the decision is in your hands._" Jorak moved, slipped along the wall. His face was sneering and fearful too. The purple mask of his face seemed to swim before Smith's eyes like something seen through watered glass. Smith was pacing. He felt the emotions beginning to work yeastily and he longed to take that face and twist it off its snaky neck. "You had better go back to Earth, Smith," Jorak said. "Wherever it is." Abruptly, Smith felt the tendons writhing between his hands. He lifted. He held the squirming figure off the floor, held it there and looked into it curiously. "You'd better use some of your psi-power, my little green friend," Smith said, "While you can." The green face was turning purple. Words choked off somewhere down in the tubular length of the neck. Smith could feel it now! He could feel it! And he knew. The desperate tendrils of psi-power flailing out. And Smith began to smile.