Plague Ship | Page 3

overlooking anything at all. Now
he gave an order:
"Take an equalizer--"
Dane reached for his belt pouch, flushing, fiercely determined inside himself, that no
matter how smells warred about him that day, he was not going to let it bother him. He
swallowed the tiny pellet Medic Tau had prepared for just such trials and tried to occupy
his mind with the work to come. If there would be any work--or would another long day
be wasted in futile speeches of mutual esteem which gave formal lip service to Trade and
its manifest benefits?
"Houuuu--" The cry which was half wail, half arrogant warning, sounded along the road
behind them.
Van Rycke's stride did not vary. He did not turn his head, show any sign he had heard
that heralding fanfare for a clan chieftain. And he continued to keep to the exact center of

the road, Dane the regulation one pace to the rear and left as befitted his lower rank.
"Houuu--" that blast from the throat of a Salarik especially chosen for his lung power was
accompanied now by the hollow drum of many feet. The Terrans neither looked around
nor withdrew from the center, nor did their pace quicken.
That, too, was in order, Dane knew. To the rank conscious Salariki clansmen you did not
yield precedence unless you wanted at once to acknowledge your inferiority--and if you
did that by some slip of admission or omission, there was no use in trying to treat face to
face with their chieftains again.
"Houuu--!" The blast behind was a scream as the retinue it announced swept around the
bend in the road to catch sight of the two Traders oblivious of it. Dane longed to be able
to turn his head, just enough to see which one of the local lordlings they blocked.
"Houu--" there was a questioning note in the cry now and the heavy thud-thud of feet was
slacking. The clan party had seen them, were hesitant about the wisdom of trying to
shove them aside.
Van Rycke marched steadily onward and Dane matched his pace. They might not possess
a leather-lunged herald to clear their road, but they gave every indication of having the
right to occupy as much of it as they wished. And that unruffled poise had its affect upon
those behind. 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. After all this
was a very minor victory and they had ten or twelve hours of polite, and hidden,
maneuvering before them.
The Solar Queen had set down as closely as possible to the trading center marked on
Traxt Cam's private map and the Terrans now had another five minutes march, in the
middle of the road, ahead of the chieftain who must be inwardly boiling at their presence,
before they came out in the clearing containing the roofless, circular erection which
served the Salariki of the district as a market place and a common meeting ground for
truce talks and the mending of private clan alliances. Erect on a pole in the middle,
towering well above the nodding fronds of the grass trees, was the pole bearing the trade
shield which promised not only peace to those under it, but a three day sanctuary to any
feuder or duelist who managed to win to it and lay hands upon its weathered standard.
They were not the first to arrive, which was also a good thing. Gathered in small groups
about the walls of the council place were the personal attendants, liege warriors, and
younger relatives of at least four or five clan chieftains. But, Dane noted at once, there
was not a single curtained litter or riding orgel to be seen. None of the feminine part of
the Salariki species had arrived. Nor would they until the final trade treaty was concluded
and established by their fathers, husbands, or sons.
With the assurance of one who was master in his own clan, Van Rycke, displaying no
interest at all in the shifting mass of lower rank Salariki, marched straight on to the door

of the enclosure. 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. Their average height was close to
six feet,