ble and he don't believe in it when it happens! It's taken me a
lifetime to keep my brains from ruinin' me! No, sir! I hope none o' my
descendants inherit my brains! I pity 'em if they do!"

Hoddan had been on Darth not more than four hours. In that time he'd
found himself robbed, had resented it, had been the object of two
spirited attempts at assassination, had ridden an excruciating number of
miles on an unfamiliar animal, and now found himself in a stone dungeon
and deprived of food lest feeding him obligate his host not to cut his
throat. And he'd gotten into this by himself! He'd chosen it! He'd
practically asked for it!

He began strongly to share his grandfather's disillusioned view of
brains.

* * * * *

After a long time the door of the cell opened. Thal was back, chastened.

"Don Loris wants to talk to you," he said in a subdued voice. "He's not
pleased."

Hoddan took another gulp of the wine. He picked up his ship bag and
limped to the door. He decided painfully that he was limping on the
wrong leg. He tried the other. No improvement. He really needed to limp
on both.

He followed a singularly silent Thal through a long stone corridor and
up stone steps until they came to a monstrous hall with torches in
holders on the side walls. It was barbarically hung with banners, but it
was not exactly a cheery place. At the far end logs burned in a great
fireplace.

Don Loris sat in a carved chair beside it; wizened and white-bearded, in
a fur-trimmed velvet robe, with a peevish expression on his face.

"My chieftain," said Thal subduedly, "here is the engineer from Walden."

Hoddan scowled at Don Loris, whose expression of peevishness did not
lighten. He did regard Hoddan with a flicker of interest, however. A
stranger who unfeignedly scowls at a feudal lord with no superior and
many inferiors is anyhow a novelty.

"Thal tells me," said Don Loris fretfully, "that you and he, together,
slaughtered some dozens of the retainers of my neighbors today. I
consider it unfortunate. They may ask me to have the two of you hanged,
and it would be impolite to refuse."

Hoddan said truculently:

"I considered it impolite for your neighbors' retainers to march toward
me waving large knives and announcing what they intended to do to my
inwards with them!"

"Yes," agreed Don Loris impatiently. "I concede that point. It is
natural enough to act hastily at such times. But still-- How ma