The Mandmooran chief was a big fellow six and a half feet tall. He was old: the shock of stiff yellow hair had faded to a corn-silk color, the purple skin was wrinkle-creased and had lost some of its sheen. But he carried himself straight and tall and he looked every inch a chieftain. "We stay here," he told Sid in English. "Lord Sun no kills worship people. You tell soldiers?" "They're coming," Sid said. "See? We have nothing to do with that." "You not with them?" "Not us," Sid said. "What then you want?" Sid looked at Jane, who shrugged. Words and phrases were already forming in her mind. The sad proud look on the old chief's face. The gleaming, healthy, royal purple Mandmoorans. The dried, withered vegetation all around them, scorched by the swollen sun. The angry, resentful look on some of the Mandmooran faces behind the chief. The distant wailing chant of the sun-worshipping priests. "... cameras," Sid was saying. "As for the lady, she only wants to talk with you and look around some. All right?" "Twice," the chief said slowly, "your soldiers try to trick us. Third time now." Sid shrugged. "We're not soldiers." "You have nothing to do with them?" "We have nothing to do with them." "Third trick make people angry." "If there's a third trick, we're no part of it." The chief nodded solemnly and turned to face the water. Ahead of the flotilla, a single runabout was quite close to land now. Jane recognized the corporal who had chased her out on the quay. With him were two other soldiers. "Halloa!" the corporal shouted. "Hallo, Miz Crowley. Won't do you no good to try and hide. We got orders to take you back. Mr. Masters with you, ma'am. You'll come peacefully?" "We won't come any way at all," Sid said defiantly. "Not until we're good and ready." The chief suddenly strode forward, to the edge of the water and then ankle deep in the surf. "Wait," he said, lifting both hands solemnly. "You and these two--you know one another?" "They're Miz Crowley and Mr. Masters," the corporal shouted back. "And you know they come here?" "Heck, yes," said the corporal. "It's why we came. Following them." "Otherwise you no have come?" "That's right." "Then you go," the chief said in a strong, solemn voice. "Tell others. Go! You come close, we hurt these two people. You try to land, take us off--we kill them. We stay here. Our right is to stay. Our Lord Sun no hurt Mandmoorans. Lord Sun for life and growing of crops, not for death. You go." "You can't keep them for hostages," the corporal shouted across the water. "You can't do that." * * * * * The chief let his right hand fall. A line of spearmen trotted up behind him and let fly with a fusillade of long-shafted spears. The spears fell around the military runabout, but none of them touched it. "They stay," the chief said, "You take hundred million Mandmoorans off Mandmoora, we keep two earth people here to see nothing happens to Lord Sun. Now go!"