It was perfectly safe to trust Coru-hin-Irigod.  He was a murderer and a brigand and a slaver, but he would never incur the scorn of men and the curse of the gods by dealing foully with a guest.  The horses and packs were led away by his retainers; Ganadara and Atarazola pushed their horses after his and Faru-hin-Obaran’s through the crowd.

The house of Nebu-hin-Abenoz, like every other building in Careba, was flat-roofed, adobe-walled and window-less except for narrow rifle-slits.  The wide double-gate stood open, and five or six heavily armed Caleras lounged just inside.  They greeted Coru and Faru by name, and the strangers by their assumed nationality.  The four rode through, into what appeared to be the stables, turning their horses over to slaves, who took them away.  There were between fifty and sixty other horses in the place.

[Illustration:]

Divesting themselves of their weapons in an anteroom at the head of a flight of steps, they passed under an arch and into a wide, shady patio, where thirty or forty men stood about or squatted on piles of cushions, smoking cheroots, drinking from silver cups, talking in a continuous babel.  Most of them were in Calera dress, though there were men of other communities and nations, in other garb.  As they moved across the patio, Gathon Dard caught snatches of conversations about deals in slaves, and horse trades, about bandit raids and blood feuds, about women and horses and weapons.

An old man with a white beard and an unusually clean robe came over to intercept them.

“Ha, lord of my daughter, you’re back at last.  We had begun to fear for you,” he said.

“Nothing to fear, father of my wife,” Coru-hin-Irigod replied.  “We sold the slaves for a good price, and tarried the night feasting in good company.  Such good company that we brought some of it with us—­Atarazola and Ganadara, men of the Jeseru; Cavu-hin-Avoran, whose daughter mothered my sons.”  He took his father-in-law by the sleeve and pulled him aside, motioning Gathon Dard and Antrath Alv to follow.

“They brought weapons; they want outland slaves, of the sort I took to sell in the Big Valley country,” he whispered.  “The weapons are repeating rifles from across the ocean, and six-shot revolvers.  They also have much ammunition.”

“Oh, Safar bless you!” the white-beard cried, his eyes brightening.  “Name your own price; satisfy yourselves that we have dealt fairly with you; go, and return often again!  Come, lord of my daughter; let us make them known to Nebu-hin-Abenoz.  But not a word about the kind of weapons you have, strangers, until we can speak privately.  Say only that you have rifles to trade.”

Gathon Dard nodded.  Evidently there was some sort of power-struggle going on in Careba; Coru-hin-Irigod and his wife’s father were of the party of Nebu-hin-Abenoz, and wanted the repeaters and six-shooters for themselves.

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