The Colors of Space

She looked very small and very scared, and Bart wished he could comfort

her, but he knew she would shrink from him, repelled and horrified by

his Lhari skin, hair, claws.

Yet she reached for his hand, gripping it hard in her own dainty one.

"Bartol, be careful," she whispered, then stopped. "Bartol--that's a

Lhari name. What's your real one?"

"Bart. Bart Steele."

"Good luck, Bart." There were tears in her gray eyes.

With the blue cloak folded around his face, hands tucked in the slits at

the side, he felt almost like himself. And as the strange crimson

twilight folded down across the streets, laden with spicy smells and

little, fragrant gusts of wind, he almost savored the sense of being a

conspirator, of playing for high stakes in a network of intrigue between

the stars. He was off on an adventure, and meant to enjoy it.

The address he had been given was a lavish estate, not far from the

spaceport, across a little gleaming lake that shimmered red, indigo,

violet in the crimson sunset, surrounded by a low wall of what looked

like purple glass. Bart, moving slowly through the gate, felt that eyes

were watching him, and forced himself to walk with slow dignity.

Up the path. Up a low flight of black-marble stairs. A door swung open

and shut again, closing out the red sunset, letting him into a room that

seemed dim after the months of Lhari lights. There were three men in the

room, but his eyes were drawn instantly to one, standing against an

old-fashioned fireplace.

He was very tall and quite thin, and his hair was snow-white, though he

did not look old. Bart's first incongruous thought was, He'd make a

better Lhari than I would. His firm, commanding voice told Bart at once

that this was the man in charge. "You are Bartol?" He extended his hand.

Bart took it--and found himself gripped in a judo hold. The other two

men, leaping to place behind him, felt all over his body, not gently.

"No weapons, Montano."

"Look here--"

"Save it," Montano said. "If you're the right person, you'll understand.

If not, you won't have much time to resent it. A very simple test. What

color is that divan?"

"Green."

"And those curtains?"

"Darker green, with gold and red figures."

The men released him, and the white-haired man smiled.

"So you actually did it, Steele! I thought for sure the code message was

a fake." He stepped back and looked Bart over from head to foot,

whistling. "Raynor Three is a genius! Claws and everything! What a deuce

of a risk to take though!"