of breath with long running, I let him lead me, meaning to break
away after a few steps, apologize for mistaken identity and vanish, when
a sound at the end of the street made me jerk stiff and listen.

Tap-_tap_-tap. Tap-_tap_-tap.

I let my arm relax in the hand that guided me, flung a fold of my
shirtcloak over my face, and went along with my unknown guide.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I stumbled over steps, took a jolting stride downward, and found myself
in a dim room jammed with dark figures, human and nonhuman.

The figures swayed in the darkness, chanting in a dialect not altogether
familiar to me, a monotonous wailing chant, with a single recurrent
phrase: "Kamaina! Kama-aina!" It began on a high note, descending in
weird chromatics to the lowest tone the human ear could resolve.

The sound made me draw back. Even the Dry-towners shunned the orgiastic
rituals of Kamaina. Earthmen have a reputation for getting rid of the
more objectionable customs--by human standards--on any planet where they
live. But they don't touch religions, and Kamaina, on the surface
anyhow, was a religion.

I started to turn round and leave, as if I had inadvertently walked
through the wrong door, but my conductor hauled on my arm, and I was
wedged in too tight by now to risk a roughhouse. Trying to force my way
out would only have called attention to me, and the first of the Secret
Service maxims is; when in doubt, go along, keep quiet, and watch the
other guy.

As my eyes adapted to the dim light, I saw that most of the crowd were
Charin plainsmen or _chaks_. One or two wore Dry-town shirtcloaks, and I
even thought I saw an Earthman in the crowd, though I was never sure and
I fervently hope not. They were squatting around small crescent-shaped
tables, and all intently gazing at a flickery spot of light at the front
of the cellar. I saw an empty place at one table and dropped there,
finding the floor soft, as if cushioned.

On each table, small smudging pastilles were burning, and from these
cones of ash-tipped fire came the steamy, swimmy smoke that filled the
darkness with strange colors. Beside me an immature _chak_ girl was
kneeling, her fettered hands strained tightly back at her sides, her
naked breasts pierced for jeweled rings.

Beneath the pallid fur around her pointed ears, the exquisite animal
face was quite mad. She whispered to me, but her dialect was so thick
that I could follow only a few words, and would just a