He fell silent, looking from face to face. Aryan, Croft, Vestaler, Usdon, Barog who as yet had said nothing. An old man who watched and voted, but who rarely spoke.

Now he said, slowly, "Do you claim to be one of our number?"

"Of your number, no. Of your following, yes. Do you think you are the only ones with such a creed? There are others on a host of worlds. Do you regard it as impossible that I am one of them?"

Croft said, sharply, "We are the true Original People. Others may claim that, but they lie. They use machines."

"You have a forge using bellows," said Dumarest. "You grind corn with the aid of a millstone, weave with a loom, fashion pots with a wheel. These things are also machines."

"But they do not use the demon of power."

"And so you consider yourself justified. A peculiar interpretation of the creed. The cleansing mentioned has a deeper significance."

"You dare to condemn us? You?"

Aryan said, "You have still not told us why you entered the Alphanian Chamber."

To take the opportunity before it was too late. To learn what he could while he was able, but Dumarest couldn't tell him that.

"I am far from my people," he said quietly. "A stranger-and I know the rule. In my position, wouldn't you have done the same?"

A good answer, thought Vestaler, but Croft wasn't satisfied. He leaned forward on the table, still brooding over the imagined insult, the sense he had received of being corrected. Machines were the product of evil; because of them Man had become diversified. How could anyone who followed the creed believe otherwise?

He said, curtly, "I still think you lie."

"An easy thing to say when you sit in Council backed by your guards," said Dumarest. "Would it be as easy if we stood face to face outside? But then, of course, you don't believe in personal combat. Leon told me that."

"Leon Harvey! That renegade? That coward!"

"Coward?" Dumarest shook his head. "Call him what you like, but never call him that. Consider what he did. He, alone, left the valley and ventured through the wilderness to the town. A boy doing that and more. He found work, kept himself, gained money, traveled to another world. Coward?" His voice took on a chilling note of contempt. "From where I stand, it is you who are the coward, not he."

"Master!"

"You provoked him," said Vestaler shortly.

"But Leon-"

"We know what Leon Harvey did. There can be no excuse, that I agree."

"And yet this man defends him!" Croft was repulsive in his anger. "They are two of a kind. Has he come here to rob us further? A man who claims to have befriended a boy? That is enough to condemn him. I say he is a criminal and deserves to die. The rule demands it!"

The rule, always the rule, the iron barrier which Dumarest had yet to break. Croft was a fanatic as was Aryan, but hope could lie with the others. At least they had not demanded his life.

He said, slowly, "Have any of you ever stopped to think why Leon ran?"

"Can there be any doubt?" Usdon spoke before Croft could further vent his anger. "He could not face the ordeal."

"The ordeal," said Dumarest. "To climb to the summit of a pinnacle, to sit there during the night, afraid to sleep in case of falling, listening to the predators below, the things which climb and sting. A healthy lad should have no trouble in staying awake. A fit one to hang on. Agreed?"

Usdon nodded.

"Then why, always, do some fail?"

"Guilt," snapped Aryan. "Fear. A knowledge of their own weakness. A proof that they are unfit to survive."

"No!" said Usdon sharply. "My-" He broke off, unwilling to mention his own recent loss.

A reluctance Dumarest recognized. A fortunate circumstance which would back his gamble.

"We spoke of cleansing," he said to Croft. "You sneer at others who believe as you do, but who use machines. Use them, but are not dominated by them, that is the important difference. Power, in itself, can do no harm. It is like a spear which, in itself, is a useful tool. It is the man using it which makes it evil. A spear, a knife, a gun, all tools, all forms of power. Any form of power can be misused. The ordeal is a form of power. The power you have over the young. A power you have misused."

He heard the sharp intake of breath, the instinctive protest at what they considered to be an insanely unfair accusation. Bluntly he pressed on.

"A boy ran from the only home he had ever known. He left his mother, his friends, his people. He plunged into the unknown-and yet some of you call him a coward. You never even considered that he might have a reason. And none of you seem to care about the boys who vanish, or the ones who are found turned into ghosts. Do you want to continue sacrificing your youngsters? Do you enjoy the tears of their mothers? The misuse of your power?"

"It is a test," rapped Aryan.

"An initiation. We have always had it," echoed Croft.

Barog, more observant than the others, less blinded by pride said, "You misjudge us. We are not evil men."

"You know," said Usdon. He looked at his hands, they were trembling. Too late, he thought bleakly. No matter what happened now, it was too late. Sham was gone-nothing could bring him back. Nothing. And yet, others could be saved if Dumarest had not lied. If he could prove his accusation to be just. "You know," he said again. "Know what happens to the boys, what robs their brains."

"Yes," said Dumarest. "I know and I will tell you-for a price."

* * * * *

Iduna shivered as she stepped from the door of the house, a reaction caused less by the chill than the sight of armed men looming in front of her in the starlight. The waking had been abrupt, a touch and a whispered command, her demand for explanation ignored. Perhaps, now, she was to be taken to some secluded place, there to be quietly disposed of, speared to death and buried.

Varg Eidhal's voice was a rumbling reassurance.

"Don't worry, we mean you no harm. It is just that you are wanted in the Council Chamber."

"Why?"

"Just walk beside us."

To a mockery of a trial, questions which could have no answers. A sentence which, somehow, she had to avoid.

She stumbled a little as she entered the warmly lit chamber. Eyes, accustomed to the outer darkness, unable to see detail immediately. Then she saw men seated at a table, more guards, the tall figure of Dumarest.

"Earl! What-"

"It's nothing serious, Iduna." He was, she saw, relaxed, apparently in command of the situation. She drew a deep breath of relief. "I just want you to answer some questions." He nodded to where Vestaler sat at the head of the table. "The truth now, there is no need to lie."

He watched the ring of faces as she verified what he had already told the Council. Yes, she had accompanied her brother on an expedition. They had crashed. He had died in the crash and their guide had also been killed. By a beast? Well, yes, in a way.

"In what way?" Aryan was quick to note the hesitation. He frowned as she explained. "So Dumarest killed him. Are you accusing him of murder?"

"No, the man was badly hurt, dying, in great pain. There was nothing else we could do."

"We?"

"He, Dumarest, he was merciful."

A type of mercy to which they were unaccustomed, and Vestaler frowned. Yet, the point was not worth pursuing at this time.

"Tell us of the Kheld."

"The Kheld?" She glanced at Dumarest. "Why, we, that is my brother, thought they could be found in the mountains. An ancient form of life native to this world, which at one time had threatened the town. My brother," she added, "was suffering from strain."

"He was deranged?"

"No."

"Deluded, then?" Vestaler rapped the table as she hesitated. "You must answer the question. Was your brother wholly normal?"