He
is not of the race of those you hate, but rather one from the south.
Have you of the northern reaches not heard of Those-Who-Help,
Those-Who-Came-From-the-Stars?"
"We have heard." But there was no relaxing of tension, not a spear
point wavered.
"Look upon his hands," Sssuri insisted. "Come into his mind, for he
speaks with us so. And do _they_ do that?"
Dalgard tried to throw open his mind, awaiting the trial. It came
quickly, traces of inimical, alien thought, which changed as they
touched his mind, reading there only all the friendliness he and his
held for the sea people.
"He is not of _them_." The admission was grudging. As if they did not
want to believe that. "Why comes one from the south to this
place--now?"
There was an inflection to that "now" which was disturbing.
"After the manner of his people he seeks new things so that he may
return and report to his Elders. Then he will receive the spear of
manhood and be ready for the choosing of mates," Sssuri translated the
reason for Dalgard's quest into the terms of his own people. "He has
been my knife brother since we were cubs together, and so I journey
with him.
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