"I claim your law," he said. "I take his place." He laid himself on the altar.
Over the watching throng there was silence. He sensed rather than saw Malovar lift the sword.
There was a stir of feet near him. A gentle voice spoke.
"I also claim the law. I have bought his life once this day. You may not strike him."
Seekin's voice. Soft and gentle but very firm and very sure. Seekin stood before the altar with uplifted hand. He spoke to Malovar but his eyes were on Larkin.
"You are free, my friend. Our laws protect you now and will protect you until the next time of the testing."
Malovar lowered the sword blade. "Our laws hold," he said. "I may not accept you as a substitute sacrifice. Nor may I accept Seekin. Nor may I accept him—" his eyes sought Roy Larkin. His voice became terrible as he spoke a single word. "—now."
He made a gesture with his hand toward the elder who had taken his metal staff. The elder touched the staff in a certain place. Around Roy Larkin the plastic envelope vanished.
Roy Larkin came to his feet, his fingers clutching the Kell gun, the wild light of terror in his eyes. Looking at him, Boyd Larkin caught his breath. There was such terror and wild fear in this man as he had never seen before, such terror as might send death spurting from the muzzle of the Kell gun in a steady stream.
Larkin saw his son's finger tighten on the trigger, an involuntary movement. Malovar must have seen the movement too, all the Martian elders must have seen it. They must have known the meaning of it, must have understood that they were facing death. Not a Martian moved a muscle.