"Nothing! I'm afraid of nothing, Jorak. I just won't fight a woman." He
was shouting now, and he couldn't help it. Again, there was the odd
feeling that part of his mind at least stood away from all this,
observing, shaking its head and telling him to curb his temper.
A hand lay heavily on his shoulder, big gnarled, orange. "Kard of Shilon
would like a fall with you, Earthsmith of Earth. Perhaps I am not as
subtle as the woman from Nugat, but still I think I could tell."
The instructor nodded, and Kard spun Smith around, kept him spinning
with a short chopping blow to his jaw. Smith hardly felt it. But
something told him deep inside his whirling brain to fall, fall,
fall--and the faintest shadow of a smile flickered across Jorak's lips.
Win or lose--what was the difference? Those who could would feel the
psi-powers, and Smith would be their man.
By crotch and collar he caught the huge man of Shilon, lifted him.
Kard's arms and legs flailed air, helplessly. He bellowed as Smith began
to whirl, slowly at first, but then faster. Up he raised the great
orange hulk, held it aloft on outstretched arms for one moment--hurled
it.
Arms and legs still flailing wildly, Kard struck the mat, seemed almost
to bounce, landed in a heap atop Jorak.
Geria jumped up and down delightedly, but the woman of Nugat scowled.
"Psi," she said. "I felt it."
"As did I," admitted the instructor. "Faintly. Smith of Earth--"
"Don't tell me you didn't see me use my arms then, just my arms?"
"Kard appeared awful helpless--"
"I felt the psi," said the woman of Nugat.
"And I," a man agreed.
"As I said," Jorak declared smugly, "when you bring a barbarian to the
school you must expect barbarous behavior. Oh well," he stifled a yawn,
"I'll get my nose fixed, of course, but this sort of thing could
continue. Unpleasant, is it not?"
The instructor nodded slowly, dismissed class.
* * * * *
"Did you or didn't you, Smith?"
"What do you think, Geria?"
"I'd say no, but I did feel the psi when you threw Kard."
"That was Jorak--and he used it on me."
"Not very strong then, because I remember how readily I--"
"Look, Geria. What's the difference? They've made up their minds, and I
can't do a thing about it. I didn't use the psi, I can tell you that and
you'll believe me. But it doesn't matter, really. They're convinced.
What happens next?"
The woman of Bortinot frowned. "I don't know. They could expel you
possibly. You forget I'm new at the school, too. Let's forget all about
it. You will, anyway, in dream empathy."
It was easy for her to say that, but Smith couldn't forget. The more he
had tried to convince them he had not employed the psi-power, could not
employ it, the more they thought that he did. He was of Earth--primitive
by their standards, a barbarian. They had said so. Culture had leaped
past Earth in all directions, had leaped so far that he could not even
recognize it as such, had encompassed the stars and broad new concepts
as big as the parsecs of space between the stars. How could he
understand--ever?
Or was there anything to understand? If he could take everything at its
face value, if he could trust his own judgment, this was not culture at
all. But he had forgotten again: his judgment didn't matter. He was
being judged, not the school.
"--be strictly a neophyte in dream empathy," Geria was saying. "But not
me. I've had my share of it on Bortinot, and they'll be pairing us off,
experienced and novice. I'll take you as a partner if you'd like,
Smith."
"You bet I'd like it!" He felt genuinely cheerful again, quite suddenly.
Geria was the one bright spot at the school, and at least he had that.
And yet there was something he could not remember, something pushing
against the fringes of consciousness, and it concerned Geria. What
actually had happened yesterday on the crags? He could remember,
remember--but he couldn't at all, not really, and somehow he knew that
the most important item of all remained tantalizingly close, yet just
beyond his immediate reach.