She nodded. "Exactly as with the Fifteen. We eliminate the least useful. Sometimes we eliminate the child itself. More often, an older and worn-out individual." I thought that I sensed an uncomfortable wriggle in Sporr, behind me. "Why is this?" I demanded. "Because, Yandro, there cannot be room and supplies enough for a greater number." I scowled to myself. So far I had seen luxury enough in Dondromogon's chambers and tunnels. But there remained so much to learn. "Go on," I bade her. She nodded again, and obeyed: "Thus we on Dondromogon live and have lived. This world is ours, its good and evil. But," and her voice, from a soft, shy murmur, turned hard, "there are those who do not wish it so. The Newcomers--the invaders!" "Ill be their fate," growled Gederr beside her, as if rehearsed. "They came to us, not long ago in years ... but I forget, Yandro does not know as yet the length of Dondromogon's year, or Dondromogon's day. They came, then, no longer ago than the time needed for a baby to become a child." Three years of my own reckoning I decided, and wished she had not mentioned babies and children. I still disliked that arbitrary survival-of-the-fittest custom. "Where did they come from?" I asked. "Who can tell? Perhaps from the forgotten world where came our ancestors. Somehow they had learned of our conquest here, our advances and wealth-gathering in spite of natural obstacles. That is what they hope to plunder from us, these conquering Newcomers!" "Ill be their fate," repeated Gederr, and two or three of the Council with him. "But the winds are too high for a final battle to happen quickly. After some fighting, they seized upon the other strip of habitable land, on Dondromogon's other side. We fight them at the two poles--mostly underground. Do you understand?" "I seem to," I replied. "But now what about me? The story of Yandro?" "Did not Sporr tell everything?" broke in Gederr. "He should have done so. Sporr, the Council is not pleased." "I had to go slowly," apologized the old man, and Elonie took up the tale: "It is known to all on Dondromogon. The days of the First Comers held great minds that could see the future. Then it was foreseen that, in Dondromogon's hour of peril and need, a time set by the destruction of an enemy great and mighty--" "Barak," I said aloud, still puzzling over that strangely familiar name. "At that time," finished Elonie, "a leader to be called Yandro, the Conquering Stranger, would come. Even clothing was supplied--clothing not like that we wear today." * * * * * She gestured toward me. Indeed, the garments I wore were different from those of my companions. I shook my head slowly, and tried to digest what I had heard once again. But one bit of it still clamored for rejection. "About these eliminations," I harked back. "Who decides on which person must die to keep the number down to seven hundred?" "We do," replied Gederr, almost bleakly.