"Not necessarily. I have learned thatthe kill-spirits of the Blast are retreating. The old books call it 'radiation,and it fades in time. The intensity is measured in Roentgen and it is strongestin the center. It should be possible to tell by the plants and animals whethera given area within the markers has become safe. You would have to be verycareful about penetrating too far inside, but near the edge-"

      "I would not have you go to themountain," Sol broke in. "I have need of a man like you."

      "Nameless and weaponless?" Helaughed bitterly. "Go your way, fashion your empire, Sol of allinstruments. I was merely conjecturing."

      Sol persisted. "Serve me for a year,and I will give you back a portion of your name. It is your mind I require, forit is better than mine."

      "My mind!" But the black-hairedone was intrigued. He had spoken of the mountain, but did not really want todie. There were many curious things remaining to be fathomed, many books to bestudied, many thoughts to be thought. He had employed his weapon in the circlebecause it was the established method of manhood, but despite his erstwhileprowess and physique he was a scholar and experimenter at heart.

      Sol was watching him. "Ioffer-Sos."

      "Sos-the weaponless," he said,mulling it over. He did not like the sound of it, but it was a reasonable alternative,close to his original name. "What would you want me to do, in return forthe name?"

      "The training, the camp, the buildingof empire you described-I want you to do it for me. To be my fighter of themind. My advisor."

      "Sos the advisor." The notiongrew on him, and The name sounded better.       "Themen would not listen to me. I would need complete authority, or it would cometo nothing. If they argued, and I with no weapon-"

      "Who argues, dies," Sol saidwith absolute conviction. "By my hand."