"Look at the scars on their shoulders," Mia whispered hoarsely. "The fern leaf! That's Bemmelman's brand. They're the runaways!"
The Venusian raised his rifle. His green eyes burned with hate for the Earthlings.
Mia shrank toward Cosmo. "He—he's...."
"Put down your rifle," said Cosmo in the Venusian dialect of Mu. He could feel the pulse beat in his ears; his lips felt dry. "Seek you the Renegade?"
The Venusian hesitated, indecision reflected in his dark-yellow features. The Dawn Man shook his club, growled deep in his chest. Muscles rippled like hawsers beneath his blue hide.
"Most certainly." It was the Mercurian who spoke.
Cosmo glanced at him sharply, realized that behind the Mercurian's smiling mask, he was violently distressed. Mercurians didn't approve of bloodshed, he recalled.
Sweat dappled Cosmo's forehead. Then, with a faint shrug, he made a peculiar gesture with his hand.
An expression of wonder and comprehension filled their faces. Only the blue giant continued to rumble deep in his chest.
"The Renegade!" cried the fat Mercurian, and his yellow eyes twinkled with relief. He plumped on his knees, repeated the cabalistic symbol.