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child's hair, but his face drew into ascowl. "Now, no more of that, good sir, if you please; I'm tired of thisargument."

  * * * * *

  Jorun nodded and fell into the silence that held the rest. Terrans wouldsometimes sit for hours without talking, content to be in each other'snearness. He thought of Kormt, Gerlaug's son, last man on Earth,altogether alone, living alone and dying alone; and yet, he reflected,was that solitude any greater than the one in which all men dwelt alltheir days?

  Presently the Speaker set the child down, knocked out his pipe, androse. "Come, good sir," he said, reaching for his staff. "Let us go."

  They walked side by side down the street, under the dim lamps and pastthe yellow windows. The cobbles gave back their footfalls in a dullclatter. Once in a while they passed someone else, a vague figure whichbowed to Kormt. Only one did not notice them, an old woman who walkedcrying between the high walls.

  "They say it is never night on your worlds," said Kormt.

  Jorun threw him a sidelong glance. His face was a strong jutting ofhighlights from sliding shadow. "Some planets have been given luminousskies," said the technician, "and a few still have cities, too, where itis always light. But when every man can control the cosmic energies,there is no real reason for us to live together; most of us dwell farapart. There are very dark nights on my own world, and I cannot see anyother home from my own--just the moors."

  "It must be a strange life," said Kormt. "Belonging to no one."

  They came out on the market-square, a broad paved space walled in byhouses. There was a fountain in its middle, and a statue dug out of theruins had been placed there. It was broken, one arm gone--but still thewhite slim figure of the dancing girl stood with youth and laughter,forever under the sky of Earth. Jorun knew that lovers were wont to meethere, and briefly, irrationally, he wondered how lonely the girl wouldbe in all the millions of years to come.

  The City Hall lay at the farther end of the square, big and dark, itseaves carved with dragons, and the gables topped with wing-spreadingbirds. It was an old building; nobody knew how many generations of menhad gathered here. A long, patient line of folk stood outside it,shuffling in one by one to the registry desk; emerging, they went offquietly into the darkness, toward the temporary shelters erected forthem.

  Walking by the line, Jorun picked faces out of the shadows. There was ayoung mother holding a crying child, her head bent over it in a timelesspose, murmuring to soothe it. There was a mechanic, still sooty from hiswork, smiling wearily at some tired joke of the man behind him. Therewas a scowling, black-browed peasant who muttered a curse as Jorun wentby; the rest seemed to accept their fate meekly enough. There was apriest, his head bowed, alone with his God. There was a younger man, hishands clenching and unclenching, big helpless hands, and Jorun heard himsaying to someone else: "--if they could have waited till after harvest.I hate to let good grain stand in the field."

  * * * * *

  Jorun went into the main room, toward the desk at the head of the line.Hulking hairless Zarek was patiently questioning each of the hundredswho came hat in hand before him: name, age, sex, occupation, dependents,special needs or desires. He punches the answers out on the recordermachine, half a million lives were held in its electronic memory.

  "Oh, there you are," his bass rumbled. "Where've you been?"

  "I had to do some concy work," said Jorun. That was a private code term,among others: concy, conciliation, anything to make the evacuation gosmoothly. "Sorry to be so late. I'll take over now."

  "All right. I think we can wind the whole thing up by midnight." Zareksmiled at Kormt. "Glad you came, good sir. There are a few people I'dlike you to talk to." He gestured at half a dozen seated in the rear ofthe room. Certain complaints were best handled by native leaders.

  Kormt nodded and strode over to the folk. Jorun heard a man begin somelong-winded explanation: he wanted to take his own plow along, he'd madeit himself and there was no better plow in the universe, but thestar-man said there wouldn't be room.

  "They'll furnish us with all the stuff we need, son," said Kormt.

  "But it's _my_ plow!" said the man. His fingers twisted his cap.

  Kormt sat down and began soothing him.

  The head of the line waited a few meters off while Jorun took Zarek'splace. "Been a long grind," said the latter. "About done now, though.And will I be glad to see the last of this planet!"

  "I don't know," said Jorun. "It's a lovely world. I don't think I'veever seen a more beautiful one."

  Zarek snorted. "Me for Thonnvar! I can't wait to sit on the terrace bythe Scarlet Sea, fern-trees and red grass all around, a glass of oehl inmy hand and the crystal geysers in front of me. You're a funny one,Jorun."

  The Fulkhisian shrugged slender shoulders. Zarek clapped him on the backand went out for supper and sleep. Jorun beckoned to the next Terran andsettled down to the long, almost mindless routine of registration. Hewas interrupted once by Kormt, who yawned mightily and bade himgoodnight; otherwise it was a steady, half-conscious interval in whichone anonymous face after another passed by. He was dimly surprised whenthe last one came up. This was a plump, cheerful, middle-aged fellowwith small shrewd eyes, a little more colorfully dressed than theothers. He gave his occupation as merchant--a minor tradesman, heexplained, dealing in the little things it was more convenient for thepeasants to buy than to manufacture themselves.

  "I hope you haven't been waiting too long," said Jorun. Concy statement.

  "Oh, no." The merchant grinned. "I knew those dumb farmers would be herefor hours, so I just went to bed and got up half an hour ago, when itwas about over."

  "Clever." Jorun rose, sighed, and stretched. The big room wascavernously empty, its lights a harsh glare. It was very quiet here.

  "Well, sir, I'm a middling smart chap, if I say it as shouldn't. And youknow, I'd like to express my appreciation of all you're doing for us."

  "Can't say we're doing much." Jorun locked the machine.

  "Oh, the apple-knockers may not like it, but really, good sir, thishasn't been any place for a man of enterprise. It's dead. I'd have gotout long ago if there'd been any transportation. Now, when we're gettingback into civilization, there'll be some real opportunities. I'll makemy pile inside of five years, you bet."

  Jorun smiled, but there was a bleakness in him. What chance would thisbarbarian have even to get near the gigantic work of civilization--letalone comprehend it or take part in it. He hoped the little fellowwouldn't break his heart trying.

  "Well," he said, "goodnight, and good luck to you."

  "Goodnight, sir. We'll meet again, I trust."

  Jorun switched off the lights and went out into the square. It wascompletely deserted. The moon was up now, almost full, and its coldradiance dimmed the lamps. He heard a dog howling far off. The dogs ofEarth--such as weren't taken along--would be lonely, too.

  _Well_, he thought, _the job's over. Tomorrow, or the next day, theships come._

  4

  He felt very tired, but didn't want to sleep, and willed himself back toalertness. There hadn't been much chance to inspect the ruins, and hefelt it would be appropriate to see them by moonlight.

  Rising into the air, he ghosted above roofs and trees until he came tothe dead city. For a while he hovered in a sky like dark velvet, afaint breeze murmured around him, and he heard the remote noise ofcrickets and the sea. But stillness enveloped it all, there was no realsound.

  Sol City, capital of the legendary First Empire, had been enormous. Itmust have sprawled over forty or fifty thousand square kilometers whenit was in its prime, when it was the gay and wicked heart of humancivilization and swollen with the lifeblood of the stars. And yet thosewho built it had been men of taste, they had sought out genius to createfor them. The city was not a collection of buildings; it was a balancedwhole, radiating from the mighty peaks of the central palace, throughcolonnades and parks and leaping skyways, out to the temple-like villasof the ru
lers. For all its monstrous size, it had been a fairy sight, awoven lace of polished metal and white, black, red stone, coloredplastic, music and light--everywhere light.

  Bombarded from space; sacked again and again by the barbarian hordes whoswarmed maggot-like through the bones of the slain Empire; weathered,shaken by the slow sliding of Earth's crust; pried apart by patient,delicate roots; dug over by hundreds of generations of archaeologists,treasure-seekers, the idly curious; made a quarry of metal and stone forthe ignorant peasants who finally huddled about it--still its emptywalls and blind windows, crumbling arches and toppled pillars held aghost of beauty and magnificence which was