The Polarian woman who had been excited gasped. Whispers ran through the crowd. "Let me see them," Felg demanded coldly, and examined the maces as the barkeep lifted the _melgast_ over the surface of the bar with both hands. "You can still change your mind," the barkeep suggested. Felg raked him with a glance. "Would _you_ want me to?" The barkeep could not stare at him long. "No," he said. "Not if you don't want to." "I am ready, master," the lowborn said. Felg bowed to him, mocking him. "Select your weapon, then, and tell me your name so I may have it for the report I must file after our duel." The beautiful woman looked at him coldly. "You already have this man dead and cremated, don't you, Felg?" she asked contemptuously. "He'll live on!" cried Felg, in mock reverence. "Don't we all. We live forever--as we die forever! On with the cycle! Hooray for life! Hooray for death! Are you ready, lowborn? Ready for your passage to a higher station?" The woman whispered fiercely, "You don't believe a word of that, do you?" Instead of answering her, Felg hefted his mace and waited for the lowborn's reply. "Ranmut is my name," came the other's piping voice. And again he said, "I am ready, master." He held the mace uncertainly, awkwardly. It was obvious to everyone present that he barely knew how to use it and would not have a chance against the experienced Felg. But still, he had courage.... No, Matlin thought, his courage is based upon a lie! _The Book of the Dead_--a tissue of lies fabricated thousands of years ago and still keeping the lowborn Kedaki in fearful bondage to the highborn. But--but how, Matlin wondered wildly, do I know this? How.... He was very adept with the Kedaki mace. He knew that suddenly too, and at first the knowledge surprised him. Then the memory came. It was the first clear memory of the time before the Earthquake that he had experienced. It was a single memory-picture, devoid of all connections, devoid of any real meaning. He was in a room. The walls were padded and the floor was padded. He had come there for exercise. It was--it was a gymnasium. You fought with Kedaki maces in this gymnasium, but see? see? they were not real maces. They were padded instead of spiked and if you swung with all your might you could possibly knock your antagonist senseless as you would in Earth-style boxing, but nothing else. And, in the memory, Matlin usually won. Also in the memory, Matlin's skin was the tan-white of Earthmen! "Wait!" he blurted, and silence fell like a shroud on the large room. Felg and the lowborn named Ranmut were squaring off with the maces. Felg snapped, "Well, what is it?" Again the shroud of silence. Padded maces, thought Matlin. It was a memory, a vague, troubled, unclear memory. Perhaps I was very good with padded maces, but in their padding they did not hold death, the kind of death this man Felg had delivered with spiked maces and would deliver again....