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nd scrimped till he could start a freight line； took a huge loss underbidding the first pany so he could get the franchise； and died happy only because he knew he'd set us on the path to this day。〃
Dirk listened closely； knowing the words by heart； letting them sink in to stoke the fire of his purpose into flame。
'Ten generations of us have escaped from our masters to these ships；〃 Domigny went on。 〃Escaped off…planet； crammed knowledge into our heads till they ached； and worked our backs raw to keep this line running； trading with the planet of our birth so we could sneak in information； arms…waiting for The Day。〃
He fell silent a moment glaring at Dirk。 〃It won't fail； Lieutenant。〃
Dirk took a deep breath and stood； slowly。 〃No。 It won't。〃
〃Not if you do your job； you mean。〃 Domigny stood slowly； never taking his eyes from Dirk's。 〃If we drop down before the peasants rise； and the rebellion fails because of it； you'll be sitting in the blastpit when the ship lifts off。〃
Dirk looked into Domigny's grim eyes and knew he meant it。
〃Find the rebel leader；〃 Domigny went on。 〃Make contact with him。 Find out what he wants us to do。 If he doesn't want us to do anything and the rebellion breaks out； figure out what we should do。 But when you call； you'd better be right。〃
〃Don't worry；〃 Dirk said evenly。 〃When I call； I'll be sure。〃
Domigny held his eyes a moment longer； then smiled and clasped Dirk's band and forearm tightly。 〃Good luck；〃 he said。 〃And when you drop from that gig； drop running。〃
The gig swooped down out of the night and slammed to a stop as its hatch boomed open and Dirk shot out。 He landed rolling； swung up to his feet； and lit out for the trees at the edge of the meadow。 He glanced back over his shoulder…once…to see the gig a hundred feet up and rising； then he turned back to serious business； like running。
He sprinted through meadow grass； feeling as though a hundred snipers had their sights locked on him every foot of the way； and were just waiting for him to slow down a little so they could see if there was a brandmark on his back； to make sure he was a churl before they shot him down。
Then Dirk was in among the trees； and he had to slow down to a rapid walk。 He knew the forests well； they'd been his first refuge when he escaped from serfdom twenty years ago； and he'd run seven missions since…all involving the forests now and then； usually for the same reason。 He picked his way through the underbrush； striking for the trail and finding it； listening intently to the normal sounds of a night forest…wind in the branches； scurrying of small animals； bat squeaks。 There was nothing out of the ordinary yet。 He almost wished there were； the waiting was screwing him tight as a piano string。
He swung on down the trail at a long； fast walk； staff slung over his shoulder； moving through patches of starlight。 He was a tall； lean； wiry man； dressed like an eighteenth…century gentleman。 The broad brim of his hat shadowed the deep…set
gray eyes； leaving the blade of a nose； prominent cheekbones； hollow cheeks； and square jaw to the moonlight。 It was a lean and hungry face； and the man behind it tried not to think too much。
He stopped suddenly； listening； then he slipped off the trail； silent as a drifting cloud of poison gas； found the tree trunk in the deepest shadow； and did a passable imitation of bark。
He waited； and the night waited with him。
Then； faint but growing fast； came the drum of horses' hooves。
The drum roll swelled to an avalanche； and they swept past him single…file…hard…faced men with iron derbies and chainmail waistcoats。 Somewhere in the middle of the string； Dirk noticed the local Lord； in plum…colored tailcoat and white satin； powdered wig uncovered to the night breeze。 Then he was gone； and the iron file was grinding by again。
Dirk leaned back against the trunk with folded arms； staff resting on his shoulder； admiring the sight。 He'd always loved a parade。
Too bad he didn't have a gun。 Not even a crossbow。 It was definitely out of character for a gentleman who wasn't in the military…but not as out…of…character as it would have been for a churl。 A dead churl； possibly。。。
Then the last horseman whipped on by； and the starlight filtered steadily down。 Dirk lifted his head； turned toward the sound of fading hooves。 That was all； he stayed still as a crystal till the last hoofbeat had faded。 Even then； he waited till he was sure the night was quiet； then he moved out…but not onto the trail。 At a rough guess； the local Lord was manning his radar screen and had detected the gig's landing…though it was possible。 Dirk supposed； that he was just on his way to a late party； or a tryst with a churl's daughter。 Still； the Lords didn't usually bring more than a dozen bodyguards for a social occasion。 No； the hunt was on。 They'd find the meadow empty； of course； and would turn around and beat the brush till daybreak。 But not too deep into the brush； there were dangerous animals in the woods； mostly with two legs and a nasty bite。 They could leave a steel barb embedded in a soldier's neck。 No； they'd stay close to the trails…and therefore it behooved Dirk to do the reverse。
So he struck out through the underbrush； humming softly to himself； and looking brightly about him。 It was a wonderful time to be alive。。。。
He came out of the woods a couple of hours later and stopped in the shadow of an oak to get his bearings。 The land rolled away before him； wild meadow rising to a ridge a mile away； dim and lustrous in the starlight。
Maybe an hour till moonrise…not time enough to make it to the nearest village。 Dirk looked for cover。
There it was； off to the left and halfway to the ridge…a rocky outcrop。 Where there are large rocks； there are； if not caves； at least niches to hide in。 Dirk turned toward the little hill。
As he came hiking up to it； the giant attacked。
He burst out of a crevice at the foot of the rockheap and came bounding down the slope toward Dirk； roaring and waving his arms…seven feet； three hundred pounds of maddened； muscled mendicant。
Dirk fell back； his quarterstaff snapping up to guard position； while his stomach hit bottom。 He cowered behind his staff in abject terror； then he remembered he was a trained idler； supposedly skilled with the quarterstaff。
He set his feet； grounded the butt of the staff； and aimed its tip at the giant's solar plexus。
The giant scrabbled to a halt and scowled down at him； puzzled。
Dirk snapped the staff back up to guard。
〃Rrowr…r…r…rl〃 The giant threw his arms up； hands curved like talons。
Dirk's mouth tucked into a smile。 The roar had a distinctly tentative ring。
〃Rrowrrr？〃 He sounded wary this time。 〃 Traid！ 。。。 Fraid？〃
〃Sorry； no。〃 Dirk shook his head； smiling。 He pursed his lips thoughtfully； then suddenly stamped the ground； yelling； 〃Boo！〃
The giant started and leaped back five feet。 There he hesitated； watching Dirk nervously； hands half…raised。 He was seven feet tall； and at least two and a half feet wide from shoulder to shoulder