REVOLT IN 2100 By ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

Dave was the center of approving interest, but the party with the tic persisted. ‘That’s all very well, but I asked him a fair question: What’s his line? If it’s the same as mine, I won’t stand for it-it’s too crowded now.’

‘That cheap racket you’re in is always crowded, but he’s not in it. Forget about his line.’

‘Why don’t he answer for himself,’ Alec countered suspiciously. He half stood up. ‘I don’t believe he’s stooled -‘

It appeared that Magee was cleaning his nails with the point of a slender knife. ‘Put your nose back in your glass, Alec,’ he remarked in a conversational tone, without looking up, ‘-or must I cut it off and put it there?’

The other fingered something nervously in his hand. Magee seemed not to notice it, but nevertheless told him, ‘If you think you can use a vibrator on me faster than I use steel, go ahead-it will be an interesting experiment.’

The man facing him stood uncertainly for a moment longer, his tic working incessantly. Mother Johnston came up behind him and pushed him down by the shoulders, saying, ‘Boys! Boys! Is that any way to behave?-and in front of a guest, too! Fader, put that toad sticker away-I’m ashamed of you.’

The knife was gone from his hands. ‘You’re right as always, Mother,’ he grinned. ‘Ask Molly to fill up my glass again.’

An old chap sitting on MacKinnon’s right had followed these events with alcoholic uncertainty, but he seemed to have gathered something of the gist of it, for now he fixed Dave with serum-filled eye, and enquired, ‘Boy, are you stooled to the rogue?’ His sweetly sour breath reached MacKinnon as the old man leaned toward him and emphasized his question with a trembling, joint-swollen finger.

Dave looked to Magee for advice and enlightenment. Magee answered for him. ‘No, he’s not-Mother Johnston knew that when she let him in. He’s here for sanctuary-as our customs provide!’

An uneasy stir ran around the room. Molly paused in her serving and listened openly. But the old man seemed satisfied. ‘True . . . true enough,’ he agreed, and took another pull at his drink, ‘sanctuary may be given when needed, if-‘His words were lost in a mumble.

The nervous tension slackened. Most of those present were subconsciously glad to follow the lead of the old man, and excuse the intrusion on the score of necessity. Magee turned back to Dave. ‘I thought that what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you-or us-but the matter has been opened.’

‘But what did he mean?’

‘Gramps asked you if you had been stooled to the rogue-whether or not you were a member of the ancient and honorable fraternity of thieves, cutthroats, and pickpockets!’

Magee stared into Dave’s face with a look of sardonic amusement. Dave looked uncertainly from Magee to the others, saw them exchange glances, and wondered what answer was expected of him. Alec broke the pause. ‘Well,’ he sneered, ‘what are you waiting for? Go ahead and put the question to him-or are the great Fader’s friends free to use this club without so much as a by-your-leave?’

‘I thought I told you to quiet down, Alec,’ the Fader replied evenly. ‘Besides-you’re skipping a requirement. All the comrades present must first decide whether or not to put the question at all.’

A quiet little man with a chronic worried look in his eyes answered him. ‘I don’t think that quite applies, Fader. If he had come himself, or fallen into our hands-in that case, yes. But you brought him here. I think I speak for all when I say he should answer the question. Unless someone objects, I will ask him myself.’ He allowed an interval to pass. No one spoke up. ‘Very well then . . . Dave, you have seen too much and heard too much. Will you leave us now-or will you stay and take the oath of our guild? I must warn you that once stooled you are stooled for life-and there is but one punishment for betraying the rogue.’

He drew his thumb across his throat in an age-old deadly gesture. Gramps made an appropriate sound effect by sucking air wetly through his teeth, and chuckled.

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