“But, Holy Name of Safar, what manner of men were these?” Coru-hin-Irigod demanded.  “There are those I would risk my life to kill, but I would not throw it away thus.”

“They came knowing that we would kill them, and took the poison that they might die quickly and without pain,” a Calera said.

“Or that your tortures would not wring from them the names and nation of those who sent them,” an elderly man in the dress of a rancher from the southeast added.  “If I were you, I would try to find out who these enemies are, and the sooner the better.”

Gathon Dard was examining one of the knives—­a folding knife with a broad single-edged blade, locked open with a spring; the handle was of tortoise shell, bolstered with brass.

“In all my travels,” he said, “I never saw a knife of this workmanship before.  Tell me, Coru-hin-Irigod, do you know from what country these outland slaves of Nebu-hin-Abenoz’s come?”

“You think that might have something to do with it?” the Calera asked.

“It could.  I think that these people might not have been born slaves, but people taken captive.  Suppose, at some time, there had been sold to Nebu-hin-Abenoz, and sold elsewhere by him, one who was a person of consequence—­the son of a king, or the priest of some god,” Gathon Dard suggested.

“By Safar, yes!  And now that nation, wherever it is, is at blood-feud with us,” Cavu-hin-Avoran said.  “This must be thought about; it is an ill thing to have unknown enemies.”

“Look!” a Calera who had begun to strip the three dead men cried.  “These are not of the Usasu cities, or any other people of this land.  See, they are uncircumcised!”

“Many of the slaves whom Nebu-hin-Abenoz brought to Careba from the hills have been uncircumcised,” Coru-hin-Irigod said.  “Jeseru, I think you have your sights on the heart of it.”  He frowned.  “Now, think you, will those who had this done be satisfied, or will they carry on their hatred against all of us?”

“A hard question,” Antrath Alv said.  “You Caleras do not serve our gods, but you are our friends.  Suffer me to go apart and pray; I would take counsel with the gods, that they may aid us all in this.”

* * * * *

[Illustration:]

[Illustration:]

Part 2

It was full daylight, but the sun was hidden; a thin rain fell on the landing around at Police Terminal Dhergabar Equivalent when Vall and Dalla left the rocket.  Across the black lavalike pavement, they could see the bulky form of Tortha Karf, hunched under a long cloak, with his flat cap pulled down over his brow.  He shook hands with Vall and kissed cheeks with Dalla when they joined him.

“Car’s over here,” he said, nodding toward the waiting vehicle.  “Yesterday wasn’t one of our better days, was it?”

“No.  It wasn’t.”  Vall agreed.  They climbed into the car, and the driver lifted straight up to two thousand feet and turned, soaring down to land on the Chief’s Headquarters Building, a mile away.  “We’re not completely stopped, sir.  Ranthar Jard is working on a few ideas that may lead him to the Kholghoor time lines where the Wizard Traders are operating.  If we can’t get them through their output, we may nail them at the intake.”