any trouble. Maybe
these gewgaws will help." He picked up a box of trading
articles--mirrors, toys and the like.

Helmeted and armored, Fannia slid out the port and raised one hand to
the Cascellans. The language, hypnotically placed in his mind, leaped to
his lips.

"We come as friends and brothers. Take us to the chief."

The natives clustered around, gaping at the ship and the space armor.
Although they had the same number of eyes, ears and limbs as humans,
they completely missed looking like them.

"If they're friendly," Donnaught asked, climbing out of the port, "why
all the hardware?" The Cascellans were dressed predominantly in a
collection of knives, swords and daggers. Each man had at least five,
and some had eight or nine.

"Maybe Galactic got their signals crossed," Fannia said, as the natives
spread out in an escort. "Or maybe the natives just use the knives for
mumblypeg."

* * * * *

The city was typical of a non-mechanical culture. Narrow, packed-dirt
streets twisted between ramshackle huts. A few two-story buildings
threatened to collapse at any minute. A stench filled the air, so strong
that Fannia's filter couldn't quite eradicate it. The Cascellans
bounded ahead of the heavily laden Earthmen, dashing around like a pack
of playful puppies. Their knives glittered and clanked.

The chief's house was the only three-story building in the city. The
tall spire of the cache was right behind it.

"If you come in peace," the chief said when they entered, "you are
welcome." He was a middle-aged Cascellan with at least fifteen knives
strapped to various parts of his person. He squatted cross-legged on a
raised dais.

"We are privileged," Fannia said. He remembered from the hypnotic
language lesson that "chief" on Cascella meant more than it usually did
on Earth. The chief here was a combination of king, high priest, deity
and bravest warrior.

"We have a few simple gifts here," Fannia added, placing the gewgaws at
the king's feet. "Will his majesty accept?"

"No," the king said. "We accept no gifts." Was that the unique social
structure? Fannia wondered. It certainly was not human. "We are a
warrior race. What we want, we take."

Fannia sat cross-legged in front of the dais and exchanged conversation
with the king while Donnaught played with the spurned toys. Trying to
overcome the initial bad impression, Fannia told the chief about the
stars and other worlds, sin