We rode silently in the vehicle, and came to the rooms set aside for me. Once inside, I made sure that speaking tubes and televiso were turned off. Then:
"Doriza! There are things I do not know. Tell them to me."
She hung her head. "They would have seen me dead, like the others, to shut my mouth."
"And I saved you. Now speak. All I seem to find familiar is the name of Barak."
She looked up again. "You remember the name?"
"Faintly. Vaguely. But what is happening just beyond my knowledge?"
She caught me by the forearm, her small, strong hands gripped like vises.
"I'll tell you! Tell you everything! Those devils of the Council have long exploited and drained Dondromogon—with lies about the First Comers, and the exclusive use of science! The Newcomers are to be trapped through you, the natives deluded through you! But you—you are to die when your usefulness is through!"
"They'd do that?" I demanded. "After they name me as Yandro, their legendary hero?"
"That's part of the great lie!" And Doriza was sobbing. "You aren't Yandro—you're Barak of the Newcomers!"