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The big one stood up as well as he could in the swaying cart. “Guess I’d better introduce myself,” he said, holding out a sturdily shod foot. “I’m Malesor, headman of Katund. This is Piq; he deals in blots and snarls. And Hanxi here’s the inn-keeper.”

“My name is Balt,” Clarey said. “I am honored by this meeting.” And he went through the conventional toe-touching with each one.

“Guess you’ll be putting up with me until you’ve found permanent quarters, Til Balt,” Hanxi said. “Not that you could do much better than make your permanent home at the Purple Furbush. You’ll find life more comfortable than if you lodge with a private fam’ly. Bein’ a young unmarried man—” he twisted his nose suggestively—”you’d naturally want a bit of freedom, excitement.”

“Remember he’s a librarian,” Piq whistled. “He might not appreciate as good a time as most young fellers.”

Clarey was glad when a cluster of domes appearing over the horizon indicated that they’d reached Katund. He looked about him curiously. The countryside he’d been able to equate with a park, but this small aggregate of detached dwellings bore no relationship to anything in his experience.