"I did, for a time," Vorongil said quietly. "But I remembered the day we

stood on Lharillis, by the monument. And that you risked--perhaps your

life, certainly your eyesight--to save us from death. So when the Elder

asked for my estimate of your people, I gave it."

"I thought it sounded like you." Bart felt that his happiness was

complete.

"And now," Ringg cried, "let's celebrate! Meta, you haven't even told

him that he's free!"

But while the party got rolling, Bart wondered--free for what? And

after a little while he went out on the balcony and stood looking

down at the spaceport, where the Swiftwing lay in shadow, huge,

beloved--renounced.

"What now, Bartol?" Vorongil's quiet voice asked from his elbow. "You're

famous--notorious. You're going to be rich, and a celebrity."

"I was wishing I could get away until the excitement dies down."

"Well," said Vorongil, "why don't you? The Swiftwing ships out

tonight, Bartol--for Antares and beyond. It will be a couple of years

before your Eight Colors can be made over into an Interstellar line--and

as Raynor One has said to me several times, he'll have to handle all

those details, for you're not of age yet.

"I've been thinking. Now that we Lhari must share space with your

people, you'll need experienced men for your ships. Unless we all want

the disasters born of trial and error, we Lhari had better help you

train your men quickly and well. I want you to go back on the

Swiftwing with me. Not an apprentice, but representative of Eight

Colors, to act as liaison between men and Lhari--at least until your own

affairs claim your attention."

Behind them on the balcony, Tommy appeared, making signals to Bart: "Say

yes! Say yes, Bart! I did!"

Bart's eyes suddenly filled. Out of defeat he had won success beyond his

greatest hopes. But he did not feel all glad; he felt only a heavy

responsibility. Whether good or bad came of the gift he had snatched

from the stars, would rest in large measure on his own shoulders. He was

going back to space--to learn the responsibility that went with it.

"I accept," he said gravely.

"Oh, boy!" Tommy dragged Ringg into a sort of war dance of exuberant

celebration, pointing at the flaring glow of the spaceport gates. "Here,

by grace of the Lhari, stands the doorway to all the stars," he quoted.

"Well, maybe you were here first. But look out--we're coming!"




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