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.
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