 How did the man's treatment change by most of the people after his thumbprints were taken?
Words formed themselves on my thick tongue, words that must have been spoken by so many reviving unfortunates through the ages: "Where am I?" Of course, such areas, between the hot and cold hemispheres, would be buffeted by mighty gales ... War, unceasing, bitter, with no quarter asked, given or expected. "Suffice it that you were needed, and that the time was ripe. There is a proper time, like a proper place, for each thing and each happening. My first glance showed me that my companions were creatures like myself—two-legged, fair-skinned men, shorter and slighter than I, but clad in metal-faced garments and wearing weapons in their girdles. Each also had a shorter weapon, with a curved stock to fit the palm of the hand, borne snugly in a holster. Especially as I don't know who I am, or where I'm from, or anything that has happened longer ago than just a moment. "There's a bigger reward for capture than for warning," objected his friend in turn, "and whoever comes to take this man will claim 'capture.' "I'll make no resistance, if you'll only conduct me to your commander. "He pushed in, claimed he was no enemy, then tried to attack—" "They lie," I broke in, very conscious of my naked helplessness before her regard.
 He went from being treated with suspicion to being  revered.
 He went from being treated as a criminal to being treated as one of the usual inhabitants of Dondromogon.  He went from being treated with suspicion to being  revered.  He went from being treated as an invader to reluctantly worshipped as Yandro.  He went from being respected as a foreigner to being respected as a deity.