At another table, Myra and Limila were sorting the Demu-disguise components by sizes. "Barton," said Limila, "you have not spoken of who is to go, and who to

stay at the ship."

"I know. I've been thinking about it." He, Limila and Eeshta bad to go, for sure. Anyone else? And if so, who?

He could afford no weak links-not, he thought, that any of his people could be called weak. But Cheng and Myra-who could hardly be assigned separately-were not weapons-oriented, despite their precautionary train- ing. Nor did they speak Demu.

Abdul was a true artist with weapons-never mind that Barton's landing had momentarily paralyzed him-and a maa Barton would like to have backing him in hostile country. He spoke very little Demu but had picked up a limited listening vocabulary.

Alene, now . . . Barton appreciated a sort of native ferocity he detected in her-but she was impulsive.

Could he risk her in a deadly situation that might call for subtlety as the key to survival? ,

He decided. "You and I, Limila-we go, of course.

And Eeshta-and, I think, Abdul."

A series of hisses startled him-Demu-fashion, Eeshta was laughing. "Did I say something funny, Eeshta?"

Barton's voice was mild; he was puzzled, not irritated.

"If I'm making a mistake, please correct me."

"It is Abdul, Barton."

"You don't think he's a good choice?"

"In all but size. Barton, he would be admirable. But no Demu is so very large, nor even closely to it. Limila, I would say, is near to the greatest height believable as Demu."

Barton had sat straight; sow he leaned'back in his chair. "Thanks, Eeshta. I guess if it weren't for you I'd have pulled a real blooper. Maybe you'd better keep tabs on me, and sing out if you catch me doing anything else stupid."

"Very well. Barton. But it was not stupid-you could not know."

"Yen. But-" He thought, I could have asked, damn it! Am I to kill us all, yet, with my single-minded lack of vision? Abruptly, he chose his course.

"Just the three of us, then. The rest stay."

306.

"Wait a minute," Alene protested. "What about me?

You know you need another gun-at the least."

He answered in Demu. "It is that you know not the tongue of the land."

"What did you say?"

"You don't talk the local lingo. We couldn't communi- cate in the presence of Demu. If you forgot, in a bind, and said even a few words in English, we'd all be up the spout. I'm sorry-in a different situation, there's damned few people I'd rather have backing me."

'Td be careful," she began. Then, "No-you're right Grover's tough and Grover's smart-I think you'll grant me that-but Grover's mouth does have one of the light- est trigger-pulls known to modem man. 1 hate to admit it, Barton, but you're right." Her eyelids lifted; reflected light flashed from widened eyes. "But it's not just because I'm a woman! My father's even worse!"

He laughed-he had to laugh. After a moment, so did she.

"Well," he said, "it's Halloweeo, kiddies-time to get dressed up for trick-or-treat. Incidentally-everyone who's staying home-if you wander around outside, go costumed. That way, if you're seen from a distance you won't set off any flares." He frowned. "I should have thought of that before we went out yesterday, but as usual I was in too damned much of a hurry to think at all."

"Barton," said Limila, "I Bo not like this mood-blam- ing yourself, calling yourself stupid. It is no mood in which to start an enterprise such as we now undertake."

She looked at him. "I would see you alone."

In Compartment One, Barton expected a lecture. He was agreeably surprised.

Under the dark blue sky, the day was sunny, the air cool. Inside the headpiece, though, Barton felt smothered -the Tilaran plastic was somewhat pervious to air, but not enough for comfort.

His eyelids burned. Around the eyeholes the plastic was thin and flexible, adhering to the lids in a perfect match under the lowering brow ridges. But another un- foreseen difficulty had arisen-in any adequate light, the eyelashes were a dead giveaway that whatever Barton might be, he was not Demu. So, one by one, Limila had plucked them out, and now the lids were sore and swollen. Limila, of course, lacked lashes-the Demu had

307.

removed them permanently. She merely removed the

false lashes she usually wore.

The robes and hoods were bulky and awkward, but Barton had worn such garb before and soon adjusted his stride to move more easily. At his belt, under the robe, he carried food pouch and water bag, his Shield genera- tor, and a small two-way radio set to ship's frequencies.

Under one arm was bolstered a sleep-gun-under the other, a hand laser. Limila carried a Tilaran ion-beam

weapon; Eeshta was unarmed.

.The four-digited gloves bothered Barton a little- the two smaller fingers confined in one tube, and the loss, as with any glove, of tactile sensation. The foot- wear, Barton thought, was the best of it. Simulating bare Demu feet, the outline was mittenlike-the great toe separate, the rest together in a casing marked and indented to indicate three nailless toes. The heavy soles gave good protection and sure footing.

On inspection, before leaving the ship, - consensus had been that Barton and Limila were nearly as con- vincing as Eeshta herself.

Still puzzled about Hishtoo's reason for coming to Sisshain, Barton reopened the question as they walked.

"Truly, I cannot say," said Eeshta. "As I have told you, Sisshain is of such importance to the Demu that it is both duty and privilege for the fortunate among us to come here at some time in their lives."

"Yes. Abdul's people once had a simitar custom."

"He has said-the place, Mecca. But as to Sisshain- Hishtoo my egg-parent traveled here, in his younger days. He has spoken of it to me, but not greatly, as I am too young to be told of such importances. Also my other

parent, Tashin, was here."

"Did they come here together?" Limila asked.

"No. At the times of their visits, they did not know each other. Nor do they now, except casually. The Demu do not carry the intimacies of breeding into their later personal lives. Each keeps ties with the lives of its own

egg-children, nothing more."

"Ann Landers would starve to death," Barton mut- tered. "You didn't have contact with your other parent?"

"Tashin? I have met Tashin. Long ago Hishtoo and I visited him at his home in Shestri, on Demmon-when we lived on that planet. Tashin greeted me civilly and wished me well."

308.

H This isn't getting us anywhere, thought Barton, and let 's: the subject drop.

*^ At the end of their first hour of walking, first in sun ; and then shaded by trees, they had seen no one, nor "'* signs of any. Occasionally some small brown animal, f. furry and plump, scuttled across the ground to take ref- ^ uge in a tree. The three were climbing now, a gradual

rise-if not the foot of the mountain itself, then close to