He walked a few steps away from the auctioneer's booth. The auctioneer was getting ready for the next segment of his sale, and Herndon caught a glimpse of three frightened-looking naked Villidon girls behind the curtain being readied for display. He stared seaward. Two hundred yards away was the quay, rimmed by the low sea-wall, and beyond it was the bright green expanse of the Shining Ocean. For an instant his eyes roved beyond the ocean even, to the far continent of Zonnigog where he had been born. Then he looked at the terrified little proteus, halfway through yet another change of shape. Nine hundred thirty-five stellors, altogether, for this proteus. Herndon scowled bitterly. It was a tremendous sum of money, far more than he could easily have afforded to throw away in one morning--particularly his first day back on Borlaam after his sojourn on the outplanets. But there had been no help for it. He had allowed himself to be drawn into a situation, and he refused to back off halfway. Not any more, he said to himself, thinking of the burned and gutted Zonnigog village plundered by the gay looters of Seigneur Krellig's army. "Walk toward the sea-wall," he ordered the proteus. A half-formed mouth said blurredly, "M-master?" "You understand me, don't you? Then walk toward the sea-wall. Keep going and don't turn around." He waited. The proteus formed feet and moved off in an uncertain shuffle over the well-worn cobbles. Nine hundred thirty-five stellors, he thought bitterly. He drew his needler. The proteus continued walking, through the marketplace and toward the sea. Someone yelled, "Hey, that thing's going to fall in! We better stop it!" "I own it," Herndon called coolly. "Keep away from it, if you value your own lives." He received several puzzled glances, but no one moved. The proteus had almost reached the edge of the sea-wall now, and paused indecisively. Not even the lowest of life-forms will welcome its own self-destruction, no matter what surcease from pain can be attained thereby. "Mount the wall," Herndon called to it. Blindly, the proteus obeyed. Herndon's finger caressed the firing-knob of the needler. He watched the proteus atop the low wall, staring down into the murky harbor water, and counted to three. On the third count he fired. The slim needle-projectile sped brightly across the marketplace and buried itself in the back of the proteus' body. Death must have been instantaneous; the needle contained a nerve-poison that was effective on all known forms of life. The creature stood frozen on the wall an instant, caught midway between changes, and toppled forward into the water. Herndon nodded and holstered his weapon. He saw people's heads nodding. He heard a murmured comment: "Just paid almost a thousand for it, and first thing he does is shoot it."