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.
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