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Feuds and deadly duels between individuals and clans were the accepted way of life and every male who reached adulthood went armed and ready for combat until he became a "Speaker for the past" too old to bear arms in the field. Due to the nature of their battling lives, relatively few of the Salariki ever reached that retirement.
And as Dane passed over he looked down into the moat that was dry. The Salariki did not depend upon water for a defense but on something else which his experience of the previous night had taught him to respect. There was no mistaking that shade of purple.
Van Rycke and Captain Jellico had handled the first negotiations and the process had taken most of a day the result totaling exactly nothing. In their contacts with the off world men the feline ancestered Salariki were ceremonious, wary, and completely detached. But Cam had gotten to them somehow or he would not have returned from his first trip with that pouch of Koros stones.
A cloud of steam fragrant with the same spicy scent poured out. Dane gingerly tugged loose his Trade uniform, its brown silky fabric damp on his skin as he dressed. Luckily Sargol was warm. When he stepped out on its ruby tinted soil this morning no lingering taint of his off-world origin must remain to disgust the sensitive nostrils of the Salariki. He supposed he would get used to this process.
The pound of feet slowed to a walk, a walk which would keep a careful distance behind the two Terrans. It had worked the Salariki or these Salariki were accepting them at their own valuation a good omen for the day's business. Dane's spirits rose, but he schooled his features into a mask as wooden as his superior's.
Catching the light from the ship's beam and from the softer flares of the Salariki torches was a small pile of stones resting on a stool to one side. Dane drew a deep breath. He had heard the Koros stones described, had seen the tri-dee print of one found among Cam's recordings but the reality was beyond his expectations.
Dane began to think it had gone on for weary hours. And he was dimly aware that the Salariki were also restless. One or two shouted angrily at Jellico in their own tongue. The end came suddenly. Jellico lost his footing, stumbled, and went down. But before his men could move, the Eysie champion bounded forward, his net whirling out. Only he never reached the Captain.
And before the hour was out the reason for the Captain's uneasiness was common property throughout the ship. Having sampled the delights of off-world herbs, the Salariki were determined to not be cut off from their source of supply.
Dane saw light strike on his rod as he swung it in a wide arc to center on the struggle churning the water into foam. A third scream died to a moan and then the Salariki dashed into the sea, their nets spread, drawing back with them through the surf a dark and now quiet mass.
Two or three of the younger warriors got to their feet, their brilliant cloaks flicking out like spreading wings. But when Van Rycke did not even lift an eyelid in their direction, they made no move to block his path. As fighting men, Dane thought, trying to study the specimens before him with a totally impersonal stare, the Salariki were an impressive lot.
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