Plague Ship | Page 4

their distant feline ancestry apparent only in small vestiges. A Salarik's nails on
both hands and feet were retractile, his skin was gray, his thick hair, close to the texture
of plushy fur, extended down his backbone and along the outside of his well muscled
arms and legs, and was tawny-yellow, blue-gray or white. To Terran eyes the broad faces,
now all turned in their direction, lacked readable expression. The eyes were large and set
slightly aslant in the skull, being startlingly orange-red or a brilliant turquoise green-blue.
They wore loin cloths of brightly dyed fabrics with wide sashes forming corselets about
their slender middles, from which gleamed the gem-set hilts of their claw knives, the
possession of which proved their adulthood. Cloaks as flamboyant as their other garments
hung in bat wing folds from their shoulders and each and every one moved in an invisible
cloud of perfume.
Brilliant as the assemblage of liege men without had been, the gathering of clan leaders
and their upper officers within the council place was a riot of color--and odor. The
chieftains were installed on the wooden stools, each with a small table before him on
which rested a goblet bearing his own clan sign, a folded strip of patterned cloth--his
"trade shield"--and a gemmed box containing the scented paste he would use for
refreshment during the ordeal of conference.
A breeze fluttered sash ends and tugged at cloaks, otherwise the assembly was motionless
and awesomely quiet. Still making no overtures Van Rycke crossed to a stool and table
which stood a little apart and seated himself. Dane went into the action required of him.
Before his superior he set out a plastic pocket flask, its color as alive in the sunlight as the
crudely cut gems which the Salariki sported, a fine silk handkerchief, and, last of all, a
bottle of Terran smelling salts provided by Medic Tau as a necessary restorative after
some hours combination of Salariki oratory and Salariki perfumes. Having thus done the
duty of liege man, Dane was at liberty to seat himself, cross-legged on the ground behind
his chief, as the other sons, heirs, and advisors had gathered behind their lords.
The chieftain whose arrival they had in a manner delayed came in after them and Dane
saw that it was Fashdor--another piece of luck--since that clan was a small one and the
chieftain had little influence. 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. Seven clans Traxt Cam
had recorded divided the sea coast territory and there were seven chieftains
here--indicative of the importance of this meeting since some of these clans beyond the
radius of the shield peace, must be fighting a vicious blood feud at that very moment. Yes,
seven were here. Yet there still remained a single stool, directly across the circle from
Van Rycke. An empty stool--who was the late comer?

That question was answered almost as it flashed into Dane's mind. But no Salariki
lordling came through the door. Dane's self-control kept him in his place, even after he
caught the meaning of the insignia emblazoned across the newcomer's tunic. Trader--and
not only a Trader but a Company man! But why--and how? The Companies only went
after big game--this was a planet thrown open to Free Traders, the independents of the
star lanes. By law and right no Company man had any place here. Unless--behind a face
Dane strove to keep as impassive as Van's his thoughts raced. Traxt Cam as a Free Trader
had bid for the right to exploit Sargol when its sole exportable product was deemed to be
perfume--a small, unimportant trade as far as the Companies were concerned. And then
the Koros stones had been found and the importance of Sargol must have boomed as far
as the big boys could see. They probably knew of Traxt Cam's death as soon as the Patrol
report on Limbo had been sent to Headquarters. The Companies all maintained their
private information and espionage services. And, with Traxt Cam dead without an heir,
they had seen their chance and moved in. Only, Dane's teeth set firmly, they didn't have
the ghost of a chance now. Legally there was only one Trader on Sargol and that was the
Solar Queen, Captain Jellico had his records signed by the Patrol to prove that. And all
this Inter-Solar man would do now was to bow out and try poaching elsewhere.
But the I-S man appeared to be in no haste to follow that only possible course. He was
seating himself with arrogant dignity on that unoccupied stool, and a younger man in I-S
uniform was