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.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26