Dane moved as unobtrusively as he could to his
proper place at such a trading session, behind Van Rycke. More Salariki
were tramping out of the forest, torch bearing retainers and cloaked
warriors. A little to one side was a third party Dane had not seen
before.
They were clustered about a staff which had been driven into the ground,
a staff topped with a white streamer marking a temporary trading ground.
These were Salariki right enough but they did not wear the colorful garb
of those about them, instead they were all clad alike in muffling,
sleeved robes of a drab green--the storm priests--their robes denoting
the color of the Sargolian sky just before the onslaught of their worst
tempests. Cam had not left many clues concerning the religion of the
Salariki, but the storm priests had, in narrowly defined limits, power,
and their recognition of the Terran Traders would add to good feeling.
In the knot of storm priests a Terran stood--Medic Tau--and he was
talking earnestly with the leader of the religious party. Dane would have
given much to have been free to cross and ask Tau a question or two.
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