nosed kid, looking slightly pale, called out. "Get inside the
gates, Cargill! If I have to shoot--"

The older man motioned him to silence. "Wait. Cargill," he called.

I nodded to show that I heard.

"You talk their lingo. Tell them to haul off! Damned if I want to
shoot!"

I stepped down and walked into the open square, across the crumbled
white stones, toward the ragged mob. Even with two armed Spaceforce men
at my back, it made my skin crawl, but I flung up my empty hand in token
of peace:

"Take your mob out of the square," I shouted in the jargon of the
Kharsa. "This territory is held in compact of peace! Settle your
quarrels elsewhere!"

There was a little stirring in the crowd. The shock of being addressed
in their own tongue, instead of the Terran Standard which the Empire has
forced on Wolf, held them silent for a minute. I had learned that long
ago: that speaking in any of the languages of Wolf would give me a
minute's advantage.

But only a minute. Then one of the mob yelled, "We'll go if you give'm
to us! He's no right to Terran sanctuary!"

I walked over to the huddled dwarf, miserably trying to make himself
smaller against the wall. I nudged him with my foot.

"Get up. Who are you?"

The hood fell away from his face as he twitched to his feet. He was
trembling violently. In the shadow of the hood I saw a furred face, a
quivering velvety muzzle, and great soft golden eyes which held
intelligence and terror.

"What have you done? Can't you talk?"

He held out the tray which he had shielded under his cloak, an ordinary
peddler's tray. "Toys. Sell toys. Children. You got'm?"

I shook my head and pushed the creature away, with only a glance at the
array of delicately crafted manikins, tiny animals, prisms and crystal
whirligigs. "You'd better get out of here. Scram. Down that street." I
pointed.

A voice from the crowd shouted again, and it had a very ugly sound. "He
is a spy of Nebran!"

"_Nebran--_" The dwarfish nonhuman gabbled something then doubled
behind me. I saw him dodge, feint in the direction of the gates, then,
as the crowd surged that way, run for the street-shrine across the
square, slipping from recess to recess of the wall. A hail of stones
went flying in that direction. The little toy-seller dodged into the
street-shrine.

Then there was a hoarse "Ah, aaah!" of terror, and the crowd edged away,
surged backward. The next minute it had begun to melt away, its entity
dissol