The sight of their ancient foe aroused the Salariki, inflaming warriors
who leaned across the table to hurl tongue-twisting invective at the
captive monster. Dane gathered that seldom had a living gorp been
delivered helpless into their hands and they proposed to make the most of
this wonderful opportunity. And the Terran suddenly wished the
monstrosity had fallen back into the sea. He had no soft thoughts for the
gorp after what he had seen at the reef and the tales he had heard, but
neither did he like what he saw now expressed in gestures, heard in the
tones of voices about them.
A storm priest put an end to the outcries. His dun cloak making a spot of
darkness amid all the flashing color, he came straight to the place where
the gorp swung. As he took his stand before the wriggling creature the
din gradually faded, the warriors settled back into their seats, a pool
of quiet spread through the enclosure.
Groft came up to take his position beside the priest. With both hands he
carried a two handled cup. It was not the ornamented goblet which stood
before each diner, but a manifestly older artifact, fashioned of some
dull black substance and having the appearance of being even older than
the hall or town.
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