ncient stone and archaic towers, the ruling
group of all Mars, the Council of Senior Leiters, black-clad men who
governed and ruled with an iron hand.

The Senior Leiters, twelve fanatic and devoted men, black priests, but
priests with flashing rods of fire, lie detectors, rocket ships,
intra-space cannon, many more things the Terran Senate could only
conjecture about. The Senior Leiters and their subordinate Province
Leiters-- Erick and the two behind him suppressed a shudder.

"We've got to be careful," Erick said again. "We'll be passing among
them, soon. If they guess who we are, or what we're here for--"

He snapped open the case he carried, glancing inside for a second. Then
he closed it again, grasping the handle firmly. "Let's go," he said. He
stood up slowly. "You two come up beside me. I want to make sure you
look the way you should."

* * * * *

Mara and Jan stepped quickly ahead. Erick studied them critically as the
three of them walked slowly down the slope, onto the plain, toward the
towering black spires of the City.

"Jan," Erick said. "Take hold of her hand! Remember, you're going to
marry her; she's your bride. And Martian peasants think a lot of their
brides."

Jan was dressed in the short trousers and coat of the Martian farmer, a
knotted rope tied around his waist, a hat on his head to keep off the
sun. His skin was dark, colored by dye until it was almost bronze.

"You look fine," Erick said to him. He glanced at Mara. Her black hair
was tied in a knot, looped through a hollowed-out yuke bone. Her face
was dark, too, dark and lined with colored ceremonial pigment, green and
orange stripes across her cheeks. Earrings were strung through her ears.
On her feet were tiny slippers of perruh hide, laced around her ankles,
and she wore long translucent Martian trousers with a bright sash tied
around her waist. Between her small breasts a chain of stone beads
rested, good-luck charms for the coming marriage.

"All right," Erick said. He, himself, wore the flowing grey robe of a
Martian priest, dirty robes that were supposed to remain on him all his
life, to be buried around him when he died. "I think we'll get past the
guards. There should be heavy morning traffic on the road."

They walked on, the hard sand crunching under their feet. Against the
horizon they could see specks moving, other persons going toward the
City, farmers and peasants and merchants, bringing