"Better let up before you make a mess of him," said Retief. Whonk lifted the Youth clear of the floor, then flung him down with a thump that made the ground quiver. The younger Fustian glared up at the elder, mouth snapping.
"This one was among those who trussed me and hid me away for the killing," said Whonk. "In his repentance he will tell all to his elder."
"That's the same young squirt that tried to strike up an acquaintance with me on the bus," Retief said. "He gets around."
The youth scrambled to hands and knees, scuttled for freedom. Retief planted a foot on his dragging cloak; it ripped free. He stared at the bare back of the Fustian—
"By the Great Egg!" Whonk exclaimed, tripping the refugee as he tried to rise. "This is no Youth! His carapace has been taken from him!"
Retief looked at the scarred back. "I thought he looked a little old. But I thought—"
"This is not possible," Whonk said wonderingly. "The great nerve trunks are deeply involved. Not even the cleverest surgeon could excise the carapace and leave the patient living."
"It looks like somebody did the trick. But let's take this boy with us and get out of here. His folks may come home."
"Too late," said Whonk. Retief turned.
Three youths came from behind the sheds.