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it.”
    “Regis, I know all that, but—”
    “Will you listen ? You know as well as I; some Darkovans wanted, and still want, the advantages of Terran technology, a place in the Empire, status for Darkover as a colony with political strength, representation in the Empire Senate—all those things. Others, especially in the Comyn, felt that Empire citizenship would destroy our world and our people. That we’d become just another colony like a dozen others, dependent on Terran trade, offworld metals and luxuries, tourists— They’ve had their way so far. I can see that there will have to be changes on Darkover. But I want them to come at a rate we can assimilate.”
    “And I don’t want them to come at all,” Danilo said.
    “Who would? But the Terrans are here , like it or not. And I will not be accused of trying to keep our people primitives, barbarians, so that my family and I can maintain our superstitious powers over them!”
    He had spoken more forcefully than he realized, forgetting where they were. A languid voice said,
    “Bravo! The Heir to Hastur has come of age and learned that Terrans are a reality, not a crew of bogeymen to frighten little children!”
    Regis started. He had forgotten they were not alone. He turned to see a tall thin man, fair-haired, with the stamp of the Comyn on his angular features; elegantly dressed in foppish Darkovan clothing, but with rich alien furs adorning his cloak. Regis bowed, his face set in rigid politeness.
    “Cousin,” he acknowledged. “I did not see you, Lerrys.”
    “Nor I you, Dom Regis,” said Lerrys Ridenow, “but when you shout so loudly that the Terrans in their Headquarters could hear you across the city, why should I pretend I did not hear? I am glad to know that you understand the situation. I hope this means there will be another advocate for sanity in the Council this year, and that the Ridenow need not stand alone against that doddering conclave of maiden ladies of either sex!”
    Regis said stiffly, “Please don’t believe that I am altogether in agreement with you, Dom Lerrys. I do not like to think of the kind of social upheavals there would be, if we became just another Terran colony—”
    “But we are another Terran colony,” Lerrys said. “And the sooner we recognize it, the better. Social upheavals? Bah! Our people want the good things Terran citizenship will bring them, and they would accept the rest, once they were confronted with an accomplished fact. They simply haven’t enough education to know what they want, and the Hasturs, and the worthy lords of the Comyn, have made sure they won’t have it!” He half-rose. “Must we shout this from table to table? Will you not join us, cousin—and your friend as well?” He used the intimate inflection of the word, with its implications, and Regis, flicked raw, glanced at Danilo, half-wishing the other would refuse; but there was no reasonable cause for denial. Lerrys was Comyn and his kinsman. There was no reason for his distaste.
    Only, perhaps, that we have more in common than I could wish. He flaunts abroad what I must, for the sake of my grandfather, keep discreetly within bounds. I envy him, perhaps, that he is a younger son of a minor Comyn house, that he is not always in the public eye. Everything he does, does not immediately become public property for gossip or censure.
    They took a seat at Lerrys’s table and accepted a fresh round of drinks, which neither of them wanted.
    After another round or two, he thought, he would make some excuse, then he and Danilo would go somewhere and dine; Early Quarters had been some time ago. Soon there would be the sound of Night Quarters from the Guard Hall and he could invent an engagement somewhere. The places he chose to dine would be too tame for Lerrys and his elegant hangers-on; most of them, he could see, were Darkovan, but they wore elaborate Terran clothing; not the functional uniform of the spaceports, but brilliant and colorful things