"Visiphone call, top urgency, just came in for Chief's Assistant
Verkan, from Novilan Equivalent. Where can I put it through, sir?"

"Here; booth seven." Ranthar Jard pointed across the room, nodding to
Vall. "In just a moment."

* * * * *

Gathon Dard and Antrath Alv--temporary local aliases, Ganadara and
Atarazola--sat relaxed in their saddles, swaying to the motion of
their horses. They wore the rust-brown hooded cloaks of the northern
Jeseru people, in sober contrast to the red and yellow and blue
striped robes and sun-bonnets of the Caleras in whose company they
rode. They carried short repeating carbines in saddle scabbards, and
heavy revolvers and long knives on their belts, and each led six
heavily-laden pack-horses.

Coru-hin-Irigod, riding beside Ganadara, pointed up the trail ahead.

"From up there," he said, speaking in Acalan, the lingua franca of the
North American West Coast on that sector, "we can see across the
valley to Careba. It will be an hour, as we ride, with the
pack-horses. Then we will rest, and drink wine, and feast."

Ganadara nodded. "It was the guidance of our gods--and yours,
Coru-hin-Irigod--that we met. Such slaves as you sold at the
outlanders' plantation would bring a fine price in the North. The men
are strong, and have the look of good field-workers; the women are
comely and well-formed. Though I fear that my wife would little relish