He moved uneasily across the plaza, miserably aware that the banquet must be almost about to begin and he had an enormous distance downlevel to traverse. And everyone he had ever known stood in his way, staring at him.

Vanimoon was the first to cry out. "Where are you going, Hissune? To a costume ball?"

"He's off to the Isle, to play ninesticks with the Lady!"

"No, he's going to hunt sea-dragons with the Pontifex!"

"Let me by," Hissune said quietly, for they were pressing close upon him now.

"Let him by! Let him by!" they chorused gaily, but they did not move back.

"Where'd you get the fancy clothes, Hissune?" Ghisnet asked.

"Rented them," Heulan said.

"Stole them, you mean," said one of Heulan's brothers.

"Found a drunken knight in an alleyway and stripped him bare!"

"Get out of my way," said Hissune, holding his temper in check with more than a little effort. "I have something important to do."

"Something important! Something important!"

"He has an audience with the Pontifex!"

"The Pontifex is going to make Hissune a Duke!"

"Duke Hissune! Prince Hissune!"

"Why not Lord Hissune?"

"Lord Hissune! Lord Hissune!"

There was an ugly edge to their voices. Ten or twelve of them ringed him, pushing inward. Resentment and jealousy ruled them now. This flamboyant outfit of his, the shoulder chain, the epaulet, the boots, the cloak—it was too much for them, an arrogant way of underscoring the gulf that had opened between him and them. In another moment they'd be plucking at his tunic, tugging at the chain. Hissune felt the beginnings of panic. It was folly to try to reason with a mob, worse folly to attempt to force his way through. And of course it was hopeless to expect imperial proctors to be patrolling a neighborhood like this.

He was on his own.

Vanimoon, who was the closest, reached toward Hissune's shoulder as though to give him a shove.

Hissune backed away, but not before Vanimoon had left a grimy track along the pale green fabric of his cloak. Sudden astonishing fury surged through him. "Don't touch me again!" he yelled, angrily making the sign of the sea dragon at Vanimoon. "Don't any of you touch me!"

With a mocking laugh Vanimoon clawed for him a second time. Swiftly Hissune caught him by the wrist, clamping down with crushing force.

"Hoy! Let go!" Vanimoon grunted.

Instead Hissune pulled Vanimoon's arm upward and back, and spun him roughly around. Hissune had never been much of a fighter—he was too small and lithe for that, and preferred to rely on speed and wits—but he could be strong enough when anger kindled him. Now he felt himself throbbing with violent energy. In a low tense voice he said, "If I have to, Vanimoon, I'll break it. I don't want you or anybody else touching me."

"You're hurting me!"

"Will you keep your hands to yourself?"

"Man can't even stand to be teased—"

Hissune twisted Vanimoon's arm as far up as it would go. "I'll pull it right off you if I have to."