cial norm, here. The man in the purple cloak
was insisting furiously that he was a Darthian gentleman and he'd have
his share or else--

"Those things," said Hoddan, "are mine. Put them back."

Faces turned to him, expressing shocked surprise. A man in dirty yellow
pants stood up with a suit of Hoddan's underwear and a pair of shoes. He
moved with great dignity to depart.

The stun-pistol buzzed. He leaped and howled and fled. Hoddan had aimed
accurately enough, but prudence suggested that if he appeared to kill
anybody, the matter might become serious. So he'd fired to sting the man
with a stun-pistol bolt at about the same spot where, on Walden, he'd
scorched members of a party of police in ambush. It was nice shooting.
But this happened to be a time and place where prudence did not pay.

There was a concerted gasp of outrage. Men leaped to their feet. Large
knives came out of elaborate holsters. Figures in all the colors of the
rainbow--all badly soiled--roared their indignation and charged at
Hoddan. They waved knives as they came.

He held down the stun-pistol trigger and traversed the rushing men. The
whining buzz of the weapon was inaudible, at first, but before he
released the trigger it was plainly to be heard. Then there was silence.
His attackers formed a very untidy heap on the floor. They breathed
stertorously. Hoddan began to retrieve his possessions. He rolled a man
over, for the purpose.

A pair of very blue, apprehensive eyes stared at him. Their owner had
stumbled over one man and been stumbled over by others. He gazed up at
Hoddan, speechless.

"Hand me that, please," said Hoddan. He pointed.

* * * * *

The man in the purple cloak obeyed, shaking. Hoddan completed the
recovery of all his belongings. He turned. The man in the purple cloak
winced and closed his eyes.

"Hm-m-m," said Hoddan. He needed information. He wasn't likely to get it
from the men in the grid's control room. He would hardly be popular with
any of these, either. He irritably suspected himself of a tendency to
make enemies unnecessarily. But he did need directions. He said: "I have
a letter of introduction to one Don Loris, prince of something-or-other,
lord of this, baron of that, and claimant to the dukedom of the other
thing. Would you have any idea how I could reach him?"

The man in the purple cloak gaped at Hoddan.

"He is ... my chieftain," he said, aghast. "I ... am Thal, his most