“Houuuu—­” The cry which was half wail, half arrogant warning, sounded along the road behind them.

Van Rycke’s stride did not vary.  He did not turn his head, show any sign he had heard that heralding fanfare for a clan chieftain.  And he continued to keep to the exact center of the road, Dane the regulation one pace to the rear and left as befitted his lower rank.

“Houuu—­” that blast from the throat of a Salarik especially chosen for his lung power was accompanied now by the hollow drum of many feet.  The Terrans neither looked around nor withdrew from the center, nor did their pace quicken.

That, too, was in order, Dane knew.  To the rank conscious Salariki clansmen you did not yield precedence unless you wanted at once to acknowledge your inferiority—­and if you did that by some slip of admission or omission, there was no use in trying to treat face to face with their chieftains again.

“Houuu—!” The blast behind was a scream as the retinue it announced swept around the bend in the road to catch sight of the two Traders oblivious of it.  Dane longed to be able to turn his head, just enough to see which one of the local lordlings they blocked.

“Houu—­” there was a questioning note in the cry now and the heavy thud-thud of feet was slacking.  The clan party had seen them, were hesitant about the wisdom of trying to shove them aside.

Van Rycke marched steadily onward and Dane matched his pace.  They might not possess a leather-lunged herald to clear their road, but they gave every indication of having the right to occupy as much of it as they wished.  And that unruffled poise had its affect upon those behind.  The pound of feet slowed to a walk, a walk which would keep a careful distance behind the two Terrans.  It had worked—­the Salariki—­or these Salariki—­were accepting them at their own valuation—­a good omen for the day’s business.  Dane’s spirits rose, but he schooled his features into a mask as wooden as his superior’s.  After all this was a very minor victory and they had ten or twelve hours of polite, and hidden, maneuvering before them.

The Solar Queen had set down as closely as possible to the trading center marked on Traxt Cam’s private map and the Terrans now had another five minutes march, in the middle of the road, ahead of the chieftain who must be inwardly boiling at their presence, before they came out in the clearing containing the roofless, circular erection which served the Salariki of the district as a market place and a common meeting ground for truce talks and the mending of private clan alliances.  Erect on a pole in the middle, towering well above the nodding fronds of the grass trees, was the pole bearing the trade shield which promised not only peace to those under it, but a three day sanctuary to any feuder or duelist who managed to win to it and lay hands upon its weathered standard.