Somehow Hosteen balanced himself in that hunched position so that he could free his hands for talking.
“The off-worlder has gone. We must-“
He was not allowed to finish. Gorgol’s head thumped back against the wall of the tent. He gave a small, stifled trill, and then his fingers moved in answer:
“He has done evil-much evil-and we have allowed it. There will be a judging-“
“I have done evil.” Hosteen signed. “For it is I who listened to his story and brought him here-though I did not know he would come. You carry no blame in this matter-none of us knew that he would attack us to get his desire-“
“He flies the sky thing into the medicine country. Those-Who-Drum-Thunder, loose the lightning arrows, will be swelling in their wrath. This is not good-evil! Evil!” To finger signs Gorgol added a thin wailing of his own untranslatable vocal sounds.
Kavok’s eyes opened. He spat with much, the same hissing hate as Surra mustered upon proper occasion. But before Gorgol could continue, they were interrupted by words-spoken in good Galactic basic-issuing from the mike Logan still held.
“TRI calling base camp-“ There was a smug note in that voice that aroused Hosteen’s temper to the point of seething. “TRI calling base camp-“
He lurched across the space between wall and table, fighting off the sickness the pain of that effort cost him. Then he wrenched the mike away from Logan and leaned weakly against the table edge as he called:
“Widders!”
“So-you’ve come around!” The voice out of the air held a trace of amusement that did nothing to dampen the Terran’s temper.
Hosteen fought for control, achieved enough to demand:
“Are you already into the Blue, Widders?”
“On our way right up to that check point. How’s your headache, Storm? Told you I was doing this myself-I know my business-“
“Widders-listen, man-turn back-turn back right now!” The Terran knew even as he made that plea he was urging uselessly. But in that ‘copter was the pilot, and surely Forgee had been long enough on Arzor, had been well enough trained by Survey, to realize the danger of what they were doing. “Forgee-don’t be a fool! Get back in a hurry. You’re breaking ‘medicine’-not just of one clan, but of all the tribes! Turn back before they spot you. You can be planet-banned for a stunt like this-“
“My, Storm, that headache must be a bad one,” Widders began lightly. Then the steel ripped out of the sheath as he added: “These natives won’t even see us-I have a shield force up-and we are going in to the check point. Nobody-nobody, Storm-is telling me what I may or may not do when my son’s life may be at stake. We’ll keep you informed. TRI signing off-“
There was the click of a broken connection. Hosteen put down the mike. He looked at Logan, and the younger man’s face was drawn, sickly pallid under its weathering.
“He’s going right ahead-“
Gorgol was on his feet, standing unsteadily with one hand braced against the wall of the tent. With the other he signed:
“Krotag-we ride for Krotag-“
“No!” Hosteen answered and saw the stiffness in Gorgol’s expression. The Terran indicated the mike. “We call the Peace Officer. He will bring in the law-“
“Off-world law!” Gorgol’s whole body expressed his contempt.
Logan pushed away from the table and stood, weaving, yet free of support, using both hands. His Norbie dress did not look strange as he gestured, and the smooth flow of his signs was akin to the ceremonial speech of a chief meeting.
“Last wet season there was Hadzap, who came down into the herds of Quade, not asking for hunter’s rights-which those of Quade’s clan would have freely granted as is the custom. But he came in secret, without speech, and slew, taking only hides. And these he carried to the Port and would have sold to off-world men, asking for those things that he believed would make him greater in the clan. Was this not a shame upon all those of the Zamle totem? Yet did Quade’s clansmen come to take Hadzap for judging under off-world laws? No-not so. Quade sent to Krotag to ask for speech between one clan chief and another as is rightful custom. And Krotag replied-let it be SO’—you, Kavok, riding with me to report to Quade as was right and proper, for we are both sons to chiefs.
“Then Quade came and Krotag, and they sat down together. Quade telling of what had been done. But when he had finished, he rode out of your camp leaving Hadzap to the justice of Krotag, nor did he afterwards inquire what punishment had been set-for this is as it should be when chief deals with chief. Is this not so?”
“That is so,” assented both Norbies.
“You may say now that this evil committed by an off-worlder is greater than the evil wrought by Hadzap. In that you are right. But do not think that we do not also consider it an evil. Did not this person of no totem strike us down also, for he knew that we would have prevented him by force from what he would do. And the Peace Officer will deal with him after our laws, even as Hadzap was dealt with by yours, for this is a grievous act and one that will harm both settlers and Norbies.”
“This is truth,” Gorgol agreed. “Yet Krotag must be told-for he gave you the right to ride here, and he, also, will be answerable to others for this evil act.”
“That is so,” Hosteen agreed. “Let one of you ride for Krotag, and we shall remain here, trying to call our Peace Officer through the air talker-“
“And you swear it on the blood that you will wait here?” Gorgol looked from Hosteen to Logan. “Yes, it is so, for you are not of those who give their word and then make nothing of it for reasons of their own. I ride-let Kavok stay-since other than Zamle men may come and he can talk under the truce pole should that be needful.”
They took alternate shifts at the com after Gorgol departed, trying to reach the Peaks office with their calls-but silence was their only answer. Nor did Hosteen’s periodic demands upon the ‘copter bring any reply from
Widders or Forgee. The Terran tried to deduce how far into the Blue the flyer could go before the two would have to return to escape the day heat-without much success.
“They could even set down somewhere in there and take cover,” Logan pointed out.
“Once a fool, always a fool-that’s what you think of the civ? That’s cannibal territory-he’s been warned-“
“Widders is the type who wouldn’t expect any danger from natives,” Logan retorted. “And he’s armed with about every possible defensive gadget he could find. I wouldn’t put it past him to have smuggled a blaster in on that ‘copter! He’d believe he could stand off any Norbie attack.”
And Logan was entirely right. Widders would think himself invulnerable as a modern, civilized man coping with natives armed only with primitive weapons. But, as all civs from off-world, he would thereby seriously underestimate the Norbies if he relied on mechanics to defeat those who had mastered nature in the Arzoran outback.
“Sleeee-“ The hissing whistle cut through the open door of the bubble tent and startled both men.
Hosteen went out. There had been no alert from Baku or Surra, which meant the newcomers must be known to both members of the team. But he was angry at himself for not having briefed both cat and bird to give warning of any arrival.
It was not until the riders filed out of shadows into the open floor of the canyon that Hosteen recognized Krotag heading a party of warriors. The Terran waited in the path of light from the doorway, not advancing to meet the chief when he dismounted. He must take his cue from Krotag. This was no time for excuses or explanations. The native leader must have had the story from Gorgol-and he must already had been on his way here or he would not have arrived so soon after the messenger left. What action he would take was his decision, and according to custom Hosteen must wait for the Norbie’s verdict.
The Terran stepped back as Krotag came up, allowing the chief to enter the tent, and then he gave way for a second tall figure.
Unlike the warriors, this native wore no arms belt or protective shield collar of yoris fangs. Instead, his bony frame was covered with a striking tunic fashioned of black-and-white feathers woven skillfully into a net foundation of frawn yarn. His horns were stained dead black, and each of his deep-set eyes was encircled by an inch-wide ring of black paint, which gave his face a skull-like aspect, daunting to the beholder. In addition to his feather tunic, he wore a short knee-length cloak, also of feathered net, but this of a brilliant yellow-green. And around his neck, on white cords, was slung a small black drum.