"What arch is that?"

The hairy man's face was hidden, but his astonishment was evident. "The Arch over the world, O Builder!"

Louis understood then. He started to laugh.

The hairy man punched him unskillfully in the nose.

The blow was light, for the hairy man was slight and his hands were fragile. But it hurt.

Louis was not used to pain. Most people of his century had never felt pain more severe than that of a stubbed toe. Anaesthetics were too prevalent, medical help was too easily available. The pain of a skiier's broken leg usually lasted seconds, not minutes, and the memory was often suppressed as an intolerable trauma. Knowledge of the fighting disciplines, karate, judo, jujitsu, and boxing, had been illegal since long before Louis Wu was born. Louis Wu was a lousy warrior. He could face death, but not pain.

The blow hurt. Louis screamed and dropped his flashlight-laser.

The audience converged. Two hundred infuriated hairy men became a thousand demons; and things weren't nearly as funny as they had been a minute ago.

The reed-thin spokesman had wrapped both arms around Louis Wu, pinioning him with hysterical strength. Louis, equally hysterical, broke free with one frantic lunge. He was on his 'cycle, his hand was on the lift lever, when reason prevailed.

The other 'cycles were slaved to his. If he took off they would take off, with or without their passengers.

Louis looked about him.

Teela Brown was already in the air. From overhead she watched the fight, her eyebrows puckered in concern. She had not thought of trying to help.

Speaker was in furious motion. He'd already felled half a dozen enemies. As Louis watched, the kzin swung his flashlight-laser and smashed a man's skull.

The hairy men milled about him in an indecisive circle.

Long-fingered hands were trying to pull Louis from his seat. They were winning, though Louis gripped the saddle with hands and knees. Belatedly he thought to switch on the sonic fold.

The natives shrieked as they were snatched away.

Someone was still on Louis's back. Louis pulled him away, let him drop, flipped the sonic fold off and then on again to eject him. He scanned the ex-parking lot for Nessus.

Nessus was trying to reach his 'cycle. The natives seemed to fear his alien shape. Only one blocked his way; but that one was armed with a metal rod from some old machine.

As Louis located them, the man swung the rod at the puppeteer's head.

Nessus snatched his head back. He spun on his forelegs, putting his back to danger, but facing away from his flycycle.

The puppeteer's own flight reflex had killed him — unless Speaker or Louis could help him in time. Louis opened his mouth to shout, and the Puppeteer completed his motion.

Louis closed his mouth.

The puppeteer turned to his cycle. Nobody tried to stop him. His hind hoof left bloody footprints across the hard-packed dirt.

Speaker's circle of admirers were still out of his reach. The kzin spat at their feet — not a kzinti gesture but a human one — turned and mounted his 'cycle. His flashlight-laser was gory up to the elbow of his left hand.

The native who had tried to stop Nessus lay where he had fallen. Blood pooled lavishly about him.

The others were in the air. Louis took off after them. From afar he saw what Speaker was doing, and he called, "Hold it! That's not necessary."

Speaker had drawn the modified digging tool. He said, "Does it have to be necessary?"

But he had stayed his hand. "Don't do it," Louis implored him. "It'd be murder. How can they hurt us now? Throw rocks at us?"

"They may use your flashlight-laser against us."

"They can't use it at all. There's a taboo."

"So said the spokesman. Do you believe him?"

"Yeah."

Speaker put his weapon away. (Louis sighed in relief; hed expected the kzin to level the city.) "How would such a taboo evolve? A war of energy weapons?"

"Or a bandit armed with the Ringworld's last laser cannon. Too bad there's nobody to ask."

"Your nose is bleeding."

Now that he came to think about it, Louiss nose stung painfully. He slaved his 'cycle to Speaker's and set about making medical repairs. Below, a churning, baffled lynch mob swarmed at the outskirts of Zignamuclickclick.

CHAPTER 13 — Starseed Lure

"They should have been kneeling," Louis complained. "That's what fooled me. And the translation kept saying 'builder' when it should have been saying 'god'."

"God?"

"They've made gods of the Ringworld engineers. I should have noticed the silence. Tanjit, nobody but the priest was making a sound! They all acted like they were listening to some old litany. Except that I kept giving the wrong responses."

"A religion. How weird! But you shouldn't have laughed," Teela's intercom image said seriously. "Nobody laughs in church, not even tourists."

They flew beneath a fading sliver of noon sun. The Ringworld showed above itself in glowing blue stripes, brighter every minute.

"It seemed funny at the time," said Louis. "It's still funny. They've forgotten they're living on a ring. They think it's an arch."

A rushing sound penetrated the sonic fold. For a moment it was a hurricane, then it cut off sharply. They had crossed the speed of sound.

Zignamuclickclick dwindled behind them. The city would never have its vengeance on the demons. Probably it would never see them again.

"It looks like an arch," said Teela.

"Right. I shouldn't have laughed. We're lucky, though. We can leave our mistakes behind us," said Lous. "All we have to do, any time, is get airborne. Nothing can catch us."

"Some mistakes we must carry with us," said Speaker-To-Animals.

"Funny you should say so." Louis scratched absently at his nose, which was as numb as a block of wood. It would be healed before the anaesthetic wore off.

He made up his mind. "Nessus?"

"Yes, Louis."

"I realized something, back there. You've been claiming that you're insane because you demonstrate courage. Right?"

"How tactful you are, Louis. Your delicacy of tongue -"

"Be serious. You and all the other puppeteers have been making the same wrong assumption. A puppeteer instinctively turns to run from danger. Right?"

"Yes, Louis."

"Wrong. A puppeteer instinctively turns away from danger. It's to free his hind leg for action. That hoof makes a deadly weapon, Nessus."

All in one motion, the puppeteer had spun on his forelegs and lashed out with his single hind leg. His heads were turned backward and spread wide, Louis remembered, to triangulate on his target. Nessus had accurately kicked a man's heart out through his splintered spine.

"I could not run," he said. "I would have been leaving my vehicle. That would have been dangerous."

"But you didn't stop to think about it," sad Louis. "It was instinctive. You automatically turn your back on an enemy. Turn, and kick. A sane puppeteer turns to fight, not to run. You're not crazy."

"You are wrong, Louis. Most puppeteers run from danger."

"But -"

"The majority is always sane, Louis."

Herd animal! Louis gave it up. He lifted his eyes to watch the last sliver of sun disappear.

Some mistakes we must carry with us…

But Speaker must have been thinking of something else when he said that. Thinking of what?

At the zenith swarmed a ring of black rectangles. The one that hid the sun was framed in a pearly coronal glow. The blue Ringworld formed a paraboloid arch over it all, framed against a star-dotted sky.

It looked like something done with a Build-A-City set, by a child too young to know what he was doing.