eaders and their upper officers within the council place was a
riot of color--and odor. The chieftains were installed on the wooden
stools, each with a small table before him on which rested a goblet
bearing his own clan sign, a folded strip of patterned cloth--his "trade
shield"--and a gemmed box containing the scented paste he would use for
refreshment during the ordeal of conference.

A breeze fluttered sash ends and tugged at cloaks, otherwise the assembly
was motionless and awesomely quiet. Still making no overtures Van Rycke
crossed to a stool and table which stood a little apart and seated
himself. Dane went into the action required of him. Before his superior
he set out a plastic pocket flask, its color as alive in the sunlight as
the crudely cut gems which the Salariki sported, a fine silk
handkerchief, and, last of all, a bottle of Terran smelling salts
provided by Medic Tau as a necessary restorative after some hours
combination of Salariki oratory and Salariki perfumes. Having thus done
the duty of liege man, Dane was at liberty to seat himself, cross-legged
on the ground behind his chief, as the other sons, heirs, and advisors
had gathered behind their lords.

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. Trader--and not only a Trader but a Company
man! But why--and how? The Companies only went after big game--this was a
planet thrown open to Free Traders, the independents of