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Had they so slowed Halfer or Paft it might be a different matter altogether. Fashdor was established at his seat, his belongings spread out, and Dane, counting unobtrusively, was certain that the council was now complete.
He saw Paft, his hand carefully covered by his trade cloth, advance to Van Rycke, whose own fingers were decently veiled by a handkerchief. Under the folds of fabric their hands touched. The bargaining was in the first stages. And it was important enough for the clan leaders to conduct themselves. Where, according to Cam's records, it had been usual to delegate that power to a favored liege man.
It was recognized that off world men must be cautious over the sampling of local products and that when they joined in the Taking of the First Cup of Peace, they did so symbolically. Paft raised his cup, his gesture copied by everyone around the circle. In the harsh tongue of his race he repeated a formula so archaic that few of the Salariki could now translate the sing-song words.
Behind him trotted three couples of retainers, their cloaks also ragged fringes, their knives drawn. Standing up on the ramp to receive what could only be a formal deputation were Captain, Astrogator, Cargo-master and Engineer, the senior officers of the spacer. In the rolling periods of the Trade Lingo the torch bearer identified himself as Groft, son and heir of the late lamented Paft.
Yes, I'll transfer, sir." The Captain was turning about in his fingers the beautifully shaped figure of an Astran duocorn. "Pity to trade these here," he mused aloud. "Will Paft or Halfer appreciate more than just their scent?" Weeks smiled shyly. "I've filled this case, sir. I was going to offer them to Mr. Van Rycke on a venture. I can always make another set.
Then he who returns to you will be the true voice and there shall be no more division " It was Paft who broke in before Halfer's spokesman could reply. "It would have been better to have spoken together before you came to us. Go then until the shadow of the shield is not, then return hither and speak truly. We do not wait upon the pleasure of outlanders " A murmur approved that tart comment.
Paft, one of the two major chieftains of this section of Sargol while supervising the efforts of his liege men on a newly discovered and richly strewn length of shoal water had been attacked and killed by gorp.
An hour before sunset Paft turned his goblet upside down on his table, a move followed speedily by every chieftain in the circle. The conference was at an end for that day. And as far as Dane could see it had accomplished exactly nothing except to bring the Eysies into the open. What had Traxt Cam discovered which had given him the trading contract with these suspicious aliens?
Until his chieftain father was avenged in blood he could not assume the high seat of his clan nor the leadership of the family. And now, following custom, he was inviting the friends and sometimes allies of the dead Paft to a gorp hunt. Such a gorp hunt, Dane gathered from amidst the flowers of ceremonial Salariki speech, as had never been planned before on the face of Sargol.
Paft arose but he had hardly quitted the trading seat before one of the lesser clan leaders had taken his place, the bargaining cloth ready looped loosely about his wrist. It was at that point that the proceedings were interrupted. A new party came into the open, their utilitarian Trade tunics made a drab blot as they threaded their way in a compact group through the throng of Salariki. I-S men!
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