Dane sat down on the end of the ramp, his feet on Sargolian soil, thin,
red soil with glittering bits of gold flake in it. He did not doubt that
he was under observation from hidden eyes, but he tried to show no sign
that he guessed it. The adult Salariki maintained at all times an
attitude of aloof and complete indifference toward the Traders, but the
juvenile population were as curious as their elders were contemptuous.
Perhaps there was a method of approach in that. Dane considered the idea.
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. Only, among his records, salvaged on Limbo, he had
left absolutely no clue as to how he had beaten down native sales
resistance. It was baffling. But patience had to be the middle name of
every Trader and Dane had complete faith in Van.
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