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warning—not only that Ludorica could expect no aid, but that those who came might take her into another captivity, that her quest for the Crown might well come to an end here and now. Roane half opened her lips, was about to say what she must, when there was a shifting of earth about the plug. The stone which was its anchor disappeared.
    Roane caught her breath. They were using that tool! Then indeed they were ready for desperate measures; such were unboxed only at times of extreme need.
    She glanced at the Princess. What effect had that sudden disappearance of a very large and heavy rock had on her companion? But she could detect no sign of surprise, only a deepening of that confidence which was going to be so rudely shattered soon.
    Fresh air bearing the damp of the rain blew in. Then Sandar, stooping a little, came through. He was alone, and in his hand—Roane gasped but she had no time to move, to warn. He had already pressed the button of the stunner. Beside her the Princess wilted to the rock floor. For the first time in her life Roane faced her cousin with open anger.
    “Why did you do that? You did not even know what—”
    His mouth had the same twist as Uncle Offlas’s could wear upon occasion. But this time it did not daunt her as it might have in days only shortly past.
    “You know the rules. I saw a stranger—” he said harshly. “Now—” He looked down at the detect he carried, as if Ludorica were no more than the rock he had blasted out of existence. Then his face lost a little of its grim cast. “But you are right! There is a find here—”
    Roane was on her knees by the Princess, lifting her limp body to lie against her shoulder. Ludorica would sleep it off, of course, but she must not remain here. The dampness of that inflow of air was already reaching her. Roane did not know how disease might develop on Clio, but she was certain that the inhabitants could not endure long exposure without suffering for it.
    “Leave her—she’ll keep!” Sandar came to her side. “What’s inside?”
    “An installation. You can see it through a plate in the wall down there.” She made no move to guide him.
    Nor did he wait for her, but switched on his own beamer and trotted away in the direction she pointed, while she was left with the problem of the unconscious Princess. Uncle Offlas and Sandar would be solidly united against any plan of freeing Ludorica; Roane had known that. But she determined that the Princess would have shelter and care even if she herself had to face such pressure of their wills as had always before frightened her.
    She was still holding the girl against her for warmth, interposing her body between that of the Princess and the damp inflow of air, when Sandar returned.
    “I don’t know what it is. It may be Forerunner. But at least it is not of present-day Clio,” he reported.
    “Maybe something of the Psychocrats, to do with the settlers’ conditioning.”
    “How do you—” he began and then shrugged. “Who knows before we take a closer look at what is in there? Now—there are men searching the woods. I had Eight-fingered Dargon’s own luck trying to dodge them. Father has had to extend the distorts to cover this area. Who are they after—her? If so, we give her a brainwash and dump her where they can pick her up. Then our troubles are over.”
    “No.”
    “No, what?” He stared at her, Roane thought (with wild laughter stirring far within her), as if she had suddenly grown horns or turned blue before his eyes.
    “No brainwash, no dumping. This is the Princess Ludorica.”
    “I don’t care if she’s the Star Maiden of Raganork! You know the rules as well as I do. You’ve broken them alðready by being with her at all. How much else have you spilled?” He was twirling the setting on his stunner. Roane went cold with more than the wind.
    She drew the small cutting tool from her belt. “You try brainwashing, Sandar, and I’ll burn that stunner out of your hand. Drop