The Space Barbarians

Chapter One

John of the Hawks brought his steed to a sudden halt just short of the top of the hill they had been ascending. Some instinctive alarm had sounded. Something there is in the warrior born that warns of danger, and if the warrior would live, he heeds it ever. Were this not so there would be scarce a clannsman from Dumbarton to Stonehaven, for the ambush is a way of life on the planet Caledonia.

He slid from his animal and snaked his carbine from its scabbard. He tethered the animal lightly, so that no time would be wasted were it necessary to beat quick retreat, and made his way quietly to the hill’s crest. The last few yards he went on hands and knees; the last few inches he squirmed on his belly.

There were several bushes on the crest. He wiggled up behind one and peered through its branches and leaves. John of the Hawks sucked in air.

Below was a stream, flanked by trees and other vegetation. By the stream were standing four saddled horses and three draft animals. The latter were burdened down with what were obviously butchered cattle and, since this was Hawk preserve, obviously raided beef cattle.

Now he could make the men out. Three of them, and from their kilts, they were of the Claim Thompson. The kilts they were in the process of removing. The situation was obvious. They had butchered the animals and were now about to take a swim to clean up. Being deep in Aberdeen territory, they had not wanted to be slowed down by herding the beef back to their town but had butchered them on the spot and packed the choice portions of the carcasses on their extra animals.

Moving slowly, quietly, John flicked three cartridges from his bandolier. He threw the breech of his carbine and inserted one of the shells. The other two he stuck, point first, into the ground near his right hand, instantly available for a quick reloading.

The others had left their saddle guns in their scabbards, but John had no illusions about the fighting qualities of the Clann Thompson. Thieves they might notoriously be, but also competent fighters. Once he opened fire, the bets would all be down. There were three adult clannsmen down there, and he was but a lad, not yet raised up to full phyletic level.

Three of them?

He hesitated at squeezing the trigger, though he already had the sights trained on one who was just about to enter the water. There were four saddle horses.

He let his eyes go over the scene again and immediately received his answer. Slightly upstream, in a thicker clump of trees, was the other member of the party. She had drawn away from the men for privacy. John of the Hawks made a wry mouth. He had heard that the women of the Thompsons were shameless, but it was unseemly and not meet that one should accompany a raiding party.

He watched for a long moment. All were in the water now. The girl’s body gleamed white in the clearness of the stream. She was young, probably having no more years than John’s own seventeen.

He grunted his irritation. One does not fire upon men in the presence of their feminine kyn, although in this particular case there was little, if any, danger of his bullets going so far off aim that she would be endangered. There was no stronger bann than that against injuring a woman, even though vendetta was involved. The male of a species does not destroy the female, not even man. At least, not on the planet Caledonia.

He thought about it. It was too far back to Aberdeen to expect to be able to ride for assistance, enough assistance that the raiders, girl and all, might be captured without bloodshed.

But even as he thought about it, he knew the answer. It was foolhardy, without doubt, but it was the only thing lie could do, given the situation.

He took up the two extra cartridges, and returned them to his bandolier and began squirming backward. Once off the rise, he came to his feet and hurried to his animal. He put the carbine back into its scabbard and then unbuckled his belt with its claidheammor and skean and attached them to the saddle. He took his coup stick from its sheath and tucked it temporarily in his belt and then ascended the hill again.

They were all swimming, and even at this distance he could hear their shouts and jests as they made at their horseplay. He grinned wryly as he began squirming his way down the hill toward them. They would sing a different song, if John of the Hawks was successful in his scheme.

He took what advantage he could of trees, shrubs and bushes and finally achieved his immediate goal, a place in the shrubbery along the river, between the girl and the men. Now he had a slight advantage. If the clannsmen heard him stirring in the brush, they would think it the girl; if she heard a stirring, she would think it part of the noise the men were making as they splashed, dived and swam.

On hands and knees he crawled toward the animals. This, now, was the crucial point. It was all a matter of how soon they spotted him.

And there was a matter of sheer luck, too. There were four saddle horses. If he made the mistake of attempting one that was so trained that it would seat only its master, he was destroyed.

The answer to that, or so he hoped, came to him as he crept nearer. One of the beasts had no carbine scabbard. The girl’s, of course. And a girl’s horse- was less apt to be clannsman trained to accept no stranger on its back. At least, so was his prayer to the Holy.

There was a shout from the riverbank.

He was on his feet and dashing.

The shouts tripled.

He flung himself on the back of the animal he had chosen, and even as he mounted, he was tearing free the tether that had tied the horse to a small bush. He sunk heels into the beast’s side, screaming the battle halloo of the Clann Hawk. He pulled the coup stick from his belt and slashed at the other three mounts. He gripped their tethers one by one and pulled them free. He slashed their haunches, driving them before him. From the river’s edge, the Thompson clannsmen were coming at the run, shouting their anger in d threats.

He pulled hard on the reins of his mount, turning it, and headed back for the raiders. Only now did they see what he held in his hand, and they tried to take last-minute measures to avoid him.

The coup stick came up and down so fast as to be a blur.

He slashed them, one two three, calling in repetition so quickly that the words came out all a jumble, “I-count-coup-I-count-coup-I-count-coup!”

Then he was around again and away, dashing after the horses he had just stampeded. He looked over his shoulder in triumph and just in time, even as he was shouting his halloo.

Two of the three were seated on the ground, heads in hands, wailing their disgrace and frustration. But the other had turned and sped back to the river’s edge. And only now did John see the carbine leaning there against a tree trunk.

He cut short his battle cry, in midsyllable, and flung down on the far side of the horse, clinging to the saddle by but one heel, his left hand grasping a handful of mane.

And just in time. The carbine barked its command. One of the horses screamed. John came back full into the saddle now. The wounded horse ran another twenty yards then stumbled and pitched suddenly and fell.

John considered, only momentarily, halting long enough to strip it of its trappings but gave up the possibility. For all he knew, the rifleman had additional rounds of ammunition, and John was still within range. He scrambled up the hill, kicking his heels ever into the frightened animal In? rode, herding the remaining two beasts before him.

There was another element. Undoubtedly, behind him the Thompsons were already stripping the beef carcasses from the remaining animals and would soon be in pursuit John doubted that the draft animals were as fast as those lie now possessed, but one never knew. They had the carbine, and give the Clann Thompson its due, they were as good marksmen as ever participated at the annual shoots at the assembly of the Dail of the Loch Confederation.

Up the hill, shouting again the halloo of the Clann Hawk, up and over the crest. He galloped to his own steed and Hung himself from the saddle of the girl’s horse, into the one to which he was more accustomed, without descending to the ground.

He took up the reins of the three remaining captured beasts and started off, making a beeline for Aberdeen and the security of the town of his birth. He was chuckling happily now. He had taken his risk, and all had come off as though rehearsed.

He had counted coup on three of the redoubtable Clann Thompson raiders and had stolen their horses and most of their weapons. How the town would respond! How the criers would shout his name. Though he was but of seventeen years, none would dare speak against his being raised up to full participation in the phylum. The sachem himself would acclaim him, the caciques and sagamores. He would be a man among men and free to participate in the muster.

He pushed hard, not sparing the horse.

When he had ridden out of Aberdeen, a single lad on a horse, though warned by his uncles to take care, if he went beyond the lands of the clann there were none to say him nay. A clann does not remain strong by preventing its young men from learning to scout, to raid, to defend themselves from the foe. But he had been in comparatively little danger then. Had he run into a raiding party of Bruces, Davidsons or Thompsons, for that matter, he could honorably have run for it, being one against many. And it would have been unlikely the others would have taken after him, there being small profit in chasing lads still not of full phyletic age.

But he was now in possession of worthy booty and fair game for any clannsman, save the Hawks and the sister clanns, of course, did any spot him returning to Aberdeen.

He rode through the night, the pace being awkward since he continued to hold on to the reins of the captured beasts, rather than try to herd them. They were unused to him and nervous, after all the excitement, and he was afraid of losing one or more in the night.

He entered Aberdeen in the early afternoon of the following day, both he and the animals exhausted. He had paused along the way only for water. His luck had held, and he had seen no clannsmen, not even his own kyn.

At the gate, the warder goggled at him. The other was a Fielding, not a Hawk, but he knew John well, having stolen a Hawk girl as his bride.

“Where in the name of the Holy did you find those animals, John of the Hawks?” he called.

“It was nothing,” John grinned down at him. “I came out from ambush upon three, nay four, if one counts women, of the Clann Thompson. I confounded them and seized these, their horses, as well as two carbines and these other trappings you see.”

The other was still staring. “Did you kill any?” he demanded, unbelievingly. He was fully aware that John was under no compulsion to tell the truth to him, a Fielding and hence not a clannsman of John’s even though of the same phylum.

“Kill any?” John said loftily, still grinning. “I counted coup on all three!”

The other snorted. “As to that, I will wait to hear your declamation before the muster.” He snorted again. “No one exaggerates before the assembly of the muster. That is the bann.”

But John was a man now, before men, and he said coldly, “Do you suggest that I would break a bann, before the muster or anywhere else, warder of the gate?”

The other grunted but backtracked, being in the wrong and knowing it and also being conscious that whether or nut John was exaggerating, somehow he had acquired three priceless battle steeds, the proof being there before him.

“No, I make no such suggestion, John of the Hawks. Enter, and congratulations.”

John was grinning again, even as he herded the loot before him. “There will be shouting of my name by the criers tonight,” he boasted.

The other had his petty revenge. “I doubt it,” he said.

John halted his horses and scowled puzzlement. “How do you mean?” he demanded. “How long has it been since either a Hawk or a Fielding counted coup on three raiders in a single day and seized their possessions as well?”

“A long time indeed, John of the Hawks, and your feat is praiseworthy. But unfortunately for your moment of honor, the muster is to go into session shortly.”

It was John’s turn to stare. “The muster! But this is only Apriltime.”

“Yes, and ordinarily the sachems and caciques would not join in the muster for three months; but they are gathering to discuss the travelers from Beyond.”

“Beyond? Beyond what?”

“You do not read the Holy books sufficiently, lad,” the warder said condescendingly. “Surely you have heard of Beyond.”

“But that’s legend! Myth!”

“You’d better not let any Keeper of the Faith hear you say that. Besides, the proof is there before you. Two days before this, the ship from the sky arrived, landing between Aberdeen and Dumbarton. The travelers from Beyond sent out a group and now accept the hospitality of our town.”

John gaped.

Chapter Two

For the moment, however, the sensational news could wait. John was weary and hungered beyond the point where anything else mattered. He rode toward his clann’s long-house, somewhat miffed at the timing of his moment of glory. Travelers from Beyond, indeed!

At the entrance to the longhouse, two of his closest friends duplicated the goggling of the warder of the gate.

John of the Hawks dismounted with considerable dignity and tossed his reins to one of the others.

“Don of the Clarks,” he said loftily, “be a good lad and take my animals to the pastures.” He looked at the other young man, who wore kilts similar to his own, those of the Clann Hawk. “And Dewey, would you mind, first, stripping the animals of the weapons and harness and taking them to the council hall, until I need them in my declamation before the muster, upon being raised up to the phylum?”

The one addressed as Dewey stuttered, “Where… where… where… ?”

But John raised a hand, exaggerating his weariness. “Later, lads, later. You’ll hear it all when each clannsman recites his victories to the assembly.”

He turned and entered the community house and headed for his family’s quarters.

They called after him, something urgent, but he was too tired now to chatter with them, no matter the glory. He wanted food, a bath and fresh clothing. The aftereffects of the excitement and hard riding were upon him.

In the small room that was his own, he began to strip but then paused, scowling. He could hear voices in the next room, the family living quarters, but they were not the voices he recognized, those of his mother, younger brother and two sisters. They were adult male voices, and now he realized they spoke with a strange accent.

He went to the door and pressed an ear against it, frowning still in puzzlement. The voices were clearer now. One was saying, “Well, you’re the nearest thing to an ethnologist we’ve got. What do you think?”

There was a pause before another voice said hesitantly and dourly, “I’m no ethnologist, and your guess is probably as good as mine. I’d say they’re the result of a crash of some pioneer group, Skipper. A very bad crash, since they lost communication.’”

“Why pioneers? Why not some passenger ship?”

“For one thing, they’ve got horses and cattle. Even trees of Earthside type, now adapted, of course, to this world’s ecology. Besides, what would a passenger ship be doing this far in?”

A third voice broke in. “What was a pioneer ship doing this far in, for that matter? From what we’ve seen so far, they’ve been here a long time. They’re obviously originally an Earth culture, but they don’t seem to have much more than legends about their origins.”

The first voice, heavier than the others and with a note of command in it, said. “Well, it goes both ways. I’ve never heard of them either. They must go so far back that you’d have to go deep into the archives to even check on the possibilities.”

The third voice said, “I just thought of something. They must go so far back that they might have had trouble with the warp. One of the very earliest colonizing ships, before the bugs were all ironed out. They must have had trouble with the ship’s warp, and the ship was thrown all the way in here.”

“Maybe,” somebody else growled in disgust. “They’re certainly primitive. Look at this. Look at these plumbing fixtures over here.”

A fourth voice spoke up for the first time. “What’re you complaining about? We’re lucky they’ve got plumbing at all. Did you notice those overgrown stickers all the men carry? Good grief, swords, in this day and age.”

“They also carry rifles,” the second voice said. “We’re lucky we weren’t assassinated before we ever got the chance to tell them who we were.”

“Single shot rifles,” the second voice said. “Krishna! Look at these plumbing fixtures.”

“What about them?”

John of the Hawks drew back from the door and stared at it. He was tired to the point where his mind was half blank or the reality of the situation would have come home to him quicker. He scowled his puzzlement and put his ear back to the door.

A voice was saying, “They’re platinum.” “Platinum? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I think Harmon’s right. Look at this, Skipper.”

“Who’d ever use platinum for faucets?” Another voice, the second one John had heard, broke in. “A people who have so much of it that it’s comparatively worthless, that’s who.” There was an element of awe in the tone.

“Here, let me scratch it with this knifeblade.” John had removed his belt with its skean and claidheammor, but now he went over to his bed and picked the harness up again and belted it about his waist, still scowling. He went back to the door and pressed his ear against it once more.

The voice that had disclaimed knowledge of ethnology, whatever that was, was saying, “A really primitive culture. They must have an unbelievable system of rituals and taboos.”

He who was addressed as Skipper said, “Why do you say that?”

“Because their language has changed, over a period that must amount to centuries, so little from Earth basic. And they still retain so many customs of the original Earth. Only very strict adherence to taboos and rituals would maintain such institutions so well. It’s too bad we’re not a larger expedition with a few anthropologists and such along.”

“Oh, no it isn’t.”

The skipper’s voice said, “What do you mean, Harmon?”

“I mean platinum. Probably mountains of it. There are only eight of us. Four back on the ship, and us. Good. Only that number to split it with.” There was a long pause.

John could stand it no longer. He opened the door and walked through, staring.

There were four of them, and he’d never seen such dress in his life. It was evidently some sort of uniform, and all were garbed almost identically, so undoubtedly they were fellow clannsmen. The dress was colorless, drab by any kilt standards, and each leg was completely sheathed. Above everything in strangeness was that though all were obviously adult, none wore claidheammor or even a skean.

It came to him then that these, of course, were the travelers from Beyond, in short, men from another world. Until this very moment, John had never really believed in such, in spite of the Holy Books and the preachings of the bedels and the Keepers of the Faith.

And It came to him also that although the others wore no swords or daggers, the bolstered devices on each hip were undoubtedly weapons, and weapons that would have mine under the bann in any phylum John of the Hawks had even heard of.

Two were seated in the most comfortable chairs the room provided, and two were leaning against the fireplace. All eyes turned to John when he entered.

He blurted, “What are you doing in this home?”

The youngest of the four, one of those leaning against the fireplace, let his hand drop nonchalantly to the bolstered object on his hip. It was, John decided, probably some sort of gun, though he had never seen a gun smaller than a carbine.

The eldest, who was seated, scowled at the intruder. “Who in the name of Krishna are you?”

Although their voices were heavily accented to John’s ear, the words were almost all understandable, although he didn’t know what Krishna meant.

He said, “I am John of the Hawks, and these are my assigned quarters.”

The other seated man said, “Oh. Of course. Sorry, John, uh, of the Hawks. The… what did they call him? The head man.”

One of those at the fireplace said, “The sachem.”

“That’s right. The sachem offered us this apartment. Your family has been moved in with one of your cousins, I think he said. You were away. We’re very grateful, of course.”

John of the Hawks flushed. “I am shamed. My home has been honored by being chosen to provide hospitality for travelers.”

The oldest, a heavyset, heavy faced man, said, “I am Skipper William Fowler of the exploration Spaceship Golden Hind. And these are three of my officers.” He indicated them. “First Officer DeRudder; Perez, First Engineer; and Mr. Harmon, my second.”

Harmon, who had put his hand on his weapon when John had entered, was seemingly not very much older than John himself, possibly twenty-five, and notable largely for a somewhat twisted, sardonic mouth.

Perez was a little man, and nervous of movement. De-Rudder, next in age to the one they called Skipper, was the largest of the four, which wasn’t saying much. None were more than six feet tall, so that even John, who hadn’t reached his full growth, towered above them.

Still flushing embarrassment, John said, “May the bards sing your exploits. My family is honored. My excuses for bothering you. Undoubtedly, you rest before the council of the muster. My claidheammor is at your command.” He turned to leave.

The one named DeRudder said, “Just a moment, son.”

Son? This was a term that could be used only to a fellow clannsman, and from an elder. Certainly the otherworlder couldn’t claim to be kyn of the Hawks. John was taken aback. However, he turned politely.

The other said, “In there. I suppose it’s a bathroom. That metal the faucet’s made of. What is it?”

John looked at him blankly, but now the conversation he had eavesdropped upon came back to him. It wasn’t quite clear just what the excitement had been about.

“Why, it’s called platinum, I believe. The Hawks are herdsmen, not scrabblers in the dirt or metalworkers. However, it is called platinum.”

There seemed to be a narrow eyed quality in all four of the strangers now.

DeRudder said carefully, “And it is in good supply on this planet, uh, Caledonia?”

John said blankly, “Why, honored guest, it is certainly the most common of metals, is it not?”

The other licked his lower lip unconsciously. “Your sword, there, is steel, isn’t it?”

John nodded, still uncomprehending of this bent of conversation.

“Ah, is platinum more common than iron? Cheaper?”

“Cheaper?” John said blankly.

The skipper was leaning forward, and John again got the impression of narrowed eyes, though he didn’t know why. The older man said, “We don’t know anything about your means of exchange, but this platinum is so abundant that you use it instead of iron for such things as household fixtures?”

“Why yes, honored guest. I suppose so. As I say, we Hawks are herdsmen, not metalworkers. I know little about it.”

DeRudder cleared his throat. “All right,” he said. “Thank you.” !

John shrugged inwardly and turned again to leave.

He heard their voices, in excited conversation, when he had emerged into the long hall beyond. He made a face, accentuating his youth. The travelers from Beyond were certainly an incomprehensible group.

Robot, Sachem of the Clann Hawk, came hurrying up, his face anxious. As was usual, he was a clann elder and deserved the respect granted him by his clannsmen. Past the age of raiding, he devoted full time to participating in the government of the clann and of the phylum, and younger Hawks took over the burdens of herding the flocks and otherwise participating in the economies of the clann.

John saluted him respectfully.

The sachem said, “John! I left messages for you, but evidently you have failed to receive them. Your home has lid 11 relinquished to travelers.”

“Yes,” John said unhappily. “I am shamed. I intruded upon them.”

The sachem looked at him. “There was no intended discourtesy, and hence it was not unseemly.” He beamed suddenly. “Don of the darks has informed me of your triumph. If all wasn’t confusion, with the coming of the travelers from Beyond, I would insist we adjourn to my quarters, and over your first glass of uisgebeatha of manhood, you could tell me in detail. As it is, I must summon the visitors for the muster. But quickly, did you kill or wound any of the raiders?”

John smiled his satisfaction at the compliment of his clann sachem. “Robert of the Hawks, I counted coup on three of them.”

He was again awarded the goggling that had already been shown the warder of the gate and his two younger friends.

“Coup! On three?” John nodded.

Robert stood suddenly straighter. “It will be until June-time before the next regular meeting of the muster, but on my own responsibility as Sachem of the Hawks, I grant you permission to sit with the clannsmen at this assembly.” John was stricken speechless.

The sachem turned to hurry on, but as he went he muttered, “Three! In all my life I have counted coup but twice. Three!”

John, in a daze of glory, made his way to the apartment of the cousin with whom he suspected his family would be quartered while the strangers occupied their usual chambers. He was correct, for although no one else was present he recognized various possessions of his mother, sisters and brother. He found a container of his own things as well, and after stripping and bathing, he put on fresh clothing.

He then went to the community kitchen and found food. There was no one else here, either, and he realized that all must be in the town square for the unusual muster of the sachems, caciques and sagamores.

Tired as he was, he made his way in the same direction, unable to resist the opportunity to join the clannsmen as a fellow. Ordinarily, he could have expected at least another five years of acting as a herdsman and scout before being raised to full clannsman.

The muster was in progress. The four strangers were seated together in positions of honor in the circle of the eight sachems of the Aberdeen Phylum. Behind them were seated the second circle of the phylum caciques, sagamores and noted raiders. Behind them were seated circles of clannsmen, each clann together. Beyond, a respectful distance, were standing the women, young men and children of the phylum, and beyond them, crowded against the walls of the council building, the great kirk, the phylum arsenal and the structure that held the archives, were the clannless ones.

Trying not to be ostentatious but failing miserably, John made his way through the ranks of women, children and younger men to where the Clann Hawk sat, passing his mother, brother and sisters as he went. They stared at him, uncomprehending, as he joined the full clannsmen and took a place.

There were a few raised eyebrows from his adult kynsmen, but none spoke. He knew they would hold him to account later, probably not having heard of the sachem’s permission for him to join them.

The eldest of the phylum sachems, Thomas of the Clarks, was speaking, he alone of the inner circles on his feet. The speech was predictable. He was welcoming the outworlders, tendering them the hospitality of Aberdeen as travelers in a strange land. Evidently, a bedel, or possibly one of the Keepers of the Faith, had already completed the praise.

When Thomas of the Clarks was finished—and he was a garrulous speaker—he resumed his place among the other claim sachems, and all eyes went to the newcomers.

The one who had announced himself as Skipper William Fowler came to his feet and cleared his throat. He looked about at the assembled muster and bobbed his head, in a sort of greeting, in all directions.

“You must forgive us if we are unacquainted with some of your customs,” he said. “As you know, we come from a great distance.”

Which was a strange thing to say, John thought. Surely customs were the same everywhere. The banns laid down by the Holy were as necessary on one world as on another, and surely the Holy presided over all creation.

The commander of the strangers was saying, “Briefly, we are part of the crew of the exploration Spaceship Golden Hind, and our assigned task is to map out this sector. We represent the League, a confederation of planets settled by the human race, originally from Earth. You will, of course, be invited to join the League. Frankly, we had been of the opinion that the Golden Hind was the first craft ever to penetrate this far into the galaxy. But here you are.”

Robert, Sachem of the Clann Hawk, came to his feet. His face duplicated the expressions of puzzlement of all the sat hems and caciques.

He said, “But honored guest, this League of which you speak—surely you must realize that this muster represents only the Phylum of Aberdeen, and we can speak only for ourselves. The meeting of the Dail, of all the Phyla of the Loch Confederation, would still only represent this immediate region. And even the Dail could speak only for our confederation. We know of twenty-three other confederations to the north, south, east and west, and how many more lie beyond, what man can say? Save for our two sister confederations, with whom we are at perpetual peace, of course, how could we possibly hold council with the others to decide whether to join this League?”

It was the skipper’s turn to frown lack of understanding. “You mean you are at war with all other, uh, confederations?”

“War?” Robert of the Hawks said in puzzlement.

“War. Conflict between nations, uh, that is, confederations.”

One of the caciques said, “Ah, he means raids.”

The skipper looked at him. “More than that. A conflict in which the full, uh, confederation would throw its united power against another confederation.”

A bedel came to his feet, his face in horror. “But that would be against the bann!”

The otherworld officer who had been introduced to John as DeRudder said hurriedly, “A taboo. Easy, Skipper.”

The leader of the strangers said smoothly to the bedel, “I was not advocating war, simply requesting information about the way of things on Caledonia.”

Thomas of the Clarks came to his feet. “Assuming that by some means it was possible to unite all the confederations of Caledonia into a gigantic Dail and all agreed to join this League—of what advantage would it be to us?” He sat again.

The skipper held out his hands in a gesture to indicate the answer was obvious. “Why, for trade, for one thing.”

One of the caciques spoke up. “Trade of what?”

The skipper said, “Why, that would have to be decided. Trade for the things you have in abundance, for goods, ideas, and so forth, of which you have need.”

A sagamore said, “But I can think of nothing we need from the stars. Those items for which we must trade are easily available from other phylum, and we need go no further than the yearly Dail.”

DeRudder stood and said, “Do you mind, Skipper?”

The Skipper muttered, a frustrated element in his voice, “You’re the nearest thing we have to an ethnologist. Go on.”

DeRudder said, “Perhaps we can start this trade right here and now. Evidently, somewhere near Aberdeen there is at least one mine from which platinum is extracted. Very good. We will draw up a paper giving all rights to exploitation of these mines to us eight crewmen of the Golden Hind. In return, we will immediately have shipped to Caledonia, and to your town of Aberdeen, enough repeating rifles and submachine guns to arm each of your clannsmen.”

Thomas of the Clarks stood once more. “I do not understand. Some of your words are confusing. What is a repeating rifle, and what is a submachine gun?”

DeRudder said, “You have single shot rifles and use cartridges in them. These guns fire the same type of cartridges at great speed, five hundred a minute and more.”

The bedel was on his feet again, his eyes popping. “But that is against the bann!”

Thomas of the Clarks motioned him to his seat. He turned to the strangers coldly. “You are travelers and hence eligible to remain in Aberdeen for the three traditional days of hospitality. But as to granting you the exclusive rights to the mines of platinum, obviously that is against the bann. The products of the earth belong to all. Even should we wish to grant them to you, the other phyla would hardly agree. And above all, we would not trade them for what you call repeating rifles, which are most surely against the bann. Furthermore—”

But he was interrupted by the sounding of the conch.

Clannsmen leaped to their feet, dashing for their individual longhouses. The caciques and sagamores were shouting orders. Women ran for the arsenal for extra bandoliers of cartridges.

A voice shouted from a housetop, “Raid! Raid! The Thompsons! Raid!”

Chapter Three

John of the Hawks, with the speed of youth, got back to the longhouse where he had left his carbine as quickly as did any of the clannsmen. He tore into the room he was sharing with his brother, ripped his rifle from the wall, grabbed up a bandolier, made a snap decision and sped to the roof, deciding he had no time to await the orders of the raid cacique of the Hawks.

The longhouse of the Hawks served on one side as part of the defensive wall of the town of Aberdeen. The wall was windowless on the side looking out over the fields and the roof flat, save for a parapet.

John sat down behind the parapet, slipped a cartridge from the bandolier, threw the breech and inserted the bullet. He breathed deeply, getting his breath after his run. They were after the horses, that was obvious. There were shooting and shouting over in the direction of the pastures, and a great deal of dust.

Undoubtedly, the raid caciques would shortly launch a counterblow, but meanwhile John’s position was an advantageous one, just in case the aggressive Thompsons attempted to force the town.

He heard someone come up behind him but didn’t turn. He had his elbow:, resting on his knees, the muzzle of the gun resting on the parapet.

The newcomer sat down next to him. It was one of the men from Beyond, the one called DeRudder. He was puffing. He said, “What’s happening?”

John said, “The Thompsons. They’re raiding our horses.”

“Oh. Members of one of the other confederations, eh?”

“No. The Thompsons are part of our confederation.” The other stared at him. “And they’re attacking you?” John put off answering for the moment. Through the swirl of dust a double score and more of mounted men came dashing at full tilt, shouting the battle halloo of the Clann Thompson. In the fore, at breakneck speed, rode two who held only coup sticks in their hands.

John’s lips thinned back over his teeth in a grimace of excitement. They were not quite in range. He held his fire. At the pace they were coming, they would be to the wall and directly below him before he could get off more than two or three rounds from his carbine. He pulled two more shells from the bandolier and placed them on the low parapet.

DeRudder said, “Mari, mother of Krishna, look at them come! What are those small weapons the first two are carrying?”

“They aren’t weapons,” John said. “They’re coup sticks.” He darted the other a look of surprise.

“Sticks? You mean the only weapon they have is a stick of wood, and they’re riding into rifle fire?”

John had no time to argue the niceties of the glory of an unarmed man counting coup upon an armed enemy. His eyes narrowed, and he drew a bead on the first of the fast approaching Thompsons. He thought he recognized the man and wondered at the speed at which the other had been able to organize this raid, after his disgrace at the stream.

He squeezed the trigger gently, but at that split second the two leading raiders flung themselves to the sides of their horses, even as John had done in the affair at the stream, clinging by foot and hand to the far side of the beasts they rode.

DeRudder said excitedly, “The horse! Get the horse, and the man’ll break his neck when he falls.”

John was so startled at the idea that he took his eyes from the carbine’s sights and looked at the space explorer. “But one doesn’t shoot a good animal deliberately.” He shook his head and returned to his gun. His eyes narrowed, and he began the squeeze again. The carbine barked.

DeRudder blurted, “You hit him. You hit his foot! Krishna, what a shot!”

John grunted in satisfaction, threw the carbine’s breech, extracted the spent cartridge with a flick and inserted a new one. He upped the gun again for another shot.

The leading Thompson, wounded, had fallen from his beast, but one of the others who trailed behind caught him up with a sweep and turned his own beast around to head back.

Others of the Clann Hawk were streaming up from below now, joining in the fire. The raiders were firing back, while at full tilt. John kept his head as low as was compatible with staying in the action, being fully aware of the famed marksmanship of the Clann Thompson.

DeRudder, in high excitement, pulled his hand weapon from its holster. “Here,” he blurted. “Let me train this on them. I’ll show ’em what a real gun can do.”

Shocked, John of the Hawks dropped his own gun and knocked the barrel of the other’s weapon up, just in time. A livid beam reached far into the sky, seemingly into infinity.

DeRudder stared at the Hawk clannsman. He said, “I can wipe them all out with one sweep of this.”

“And break the bann by using such a weapon! Do you wish a bloodfeud with the Claim Thompson when there are but eight of you?”

“But they’re firing at us!”

“It’s only a raid. In revengement for my stealing four horses from them.”

DeRudder crouched down behind the parapet. “I give up,” he muttered.

The charge had been broken, the oncoming raiders realizing that their attempt had come a cropper, that too many of the Aberdeen clannsmen had come on the scene to make the surprise successful. Besides, John suspected that all this was but a diversion, whilst other Thompsons rounded up as many of the Aberdeen animals as they could before the main body of the defenders came up.

There was no further value in remaining here. John joined his fellow clannsmen in dropping to the ground on the far side of the wall and dog trotting toward the pastures where the main body of the raiders was making its play. He left the spaceman behind, not bothering to speak to him further. John was still feeling his shock at the other’s words and actions. The man conducted himself like a clann-less one.

He thought he understood what must have happened. The group of four, counting the girl, had been a small unit of a larger group of the Clann Thompson, a major raiding party rounding up Clann Hawk cattle. After John had stolen their horses they had recontacted the other Thompsons and followed him to take their revengement at the disgrace of three of their clannsmen being counted coup upon.

Their luck had been better than they could have hoped. When they arrived at the Hawk pastures, they had found that there were but a handful of guards. Almost the entire population of Aberdeen had been at the muster to gape at the visitors from Beyond.

Somehow, in the heat of combat, John had shaken off the better part of his fatigue, and he was among the first of the defending clannsmen to arrive on the scene of action. It was a debacle.

The Aberdeen clannsmen and young men who had been guarding the herds had been cut down or driven off, and the Thompson raiders, ever top men in this sort of thing, had decided upon an off-beat strategy. All had dismounted from their own tired horses and thrown their saddles upon fresh mounts. Each was now busily rounding up a half dozen or more captured steeds and driving them off, leaving their own jaded mounts behind.

Here and there, hand to hand combat was taking place, claidheammors flashing, as the Thompson clannsmen attempted to break off the action and make their escape. They knew themselves outnumbered, representing but one clann, whilst in Aberdeen there were a full eight. Those who were escaping were scattering, heading in a dozen different directions, rather than remaining in a single, easy to pursue group.

John of the Hawks gritted his teeth even as he dashed into the fray. On wearied horses, the Aberdeen clannsmen would have their work cut out catching up with all the raiders. And those whom they did successfully trail would, when caught up with by revenging clannsmen, simply de-sc-it their booty and ride for it back to the safety of their own town of Caithness.

Aüi! He came up upon one of them who was having trouble with a Clann Clark steed he had captured. John knew the animal well, a highly trained stallion that fought against having any other on his back save his master.

Shouting the battle halloo of the Hawks, John brought up his carbine to fire. The other rode toward him, swinging his claidheammor, desperately fighting the animal, tearing its mouth with the heavy bit the animal suffered, a raiding bit, deliberately designed for use on captured steeds. Ho shouted the halloo of the Clann Thompson and slashed at the man on foot.

John caught the blade on the barrel of the carbine, which he only now found was empty. He dropped the gun and tore his own claidheammor from its scabbard.

The horse reared up, shrilling its fear and anger at being dominated by a stranger.

John darted under its belly, coming up on the other side of the desperate enemy clannsman. He slashed upward, cutting deep into the other’s side, and slashed again, before the man could turn to defend himself.

The other’s sword dropped from his hand. For the briefest of moments, he tried to keep his seat on the plunging animal. Then he fell, crashing to the ground.

John of the Hawks was up and onto the steed, taking over the position of stranger in the saddle. But at least he knew the animal’s name and had, in his time, petted it in admiration.

Now, even as he battled, he spoke soothingly, calmly, called it by name, resorted to knees, rather than heavy use of the bit. Around him, as he fought to dominate the horse, the battle faded off.

Most of the Clann Thompson were escaping, heading in all directions as the Aberdeen clannsmen attempted to catch horses, saddle them and get on with the pursuit. Unhappily, little harness was available, most of it being back in the town. The Hawks, Clarks, Fieldings and other defenders of Aberdeen scrambled up bareback in excited attempt to pursue the thieves.

John was one of the few with a saddled mount and a fresh one at that. He darted his eyes over the ground, looking for his carbine. He couldn’t see it. He and the horse had moved over a considerable area in the past few minutes.

No matter. He had claidheammor and skean, weapons enough for any clannsman. He headed after the foe at full gallop, blade in hand.

But then his eyes narrowed. This was what the enemy had in mind. At best with such tactics, he would catch one, or at the very most two, of the raiders. And even then, he might be fought off by a Thompson who still retained his firearm.

His mind raced. There must be something more effective than chasing off after a retreating enemy and vainly shouting his battle halloo. In fact, there was a ludicrous quality to it all, and without doubt at the next meeting of the Dail, when the clannsmen of all the confederation’s phyla recited their victories, there would be great laughter on the part of the Clann Thompson at the expense of the men of Aberdeen.

And it suddenly came to him that much of the laughter would be directed at him, John of the Hawks, who, although he had stolen three horses, had not been able to retain them for more than a few hours, so quick had come the revengement.

There must be something more effective…

And yes, there was! The raiders were scattering, but in order to return to their own town, they must sooner or later head toward it, after they had eluded the Aberdeen pursuit.

As a Hawk scout and a young herder of the cattle, John knew this countryside as well as he knew the long-house of his birth. He cast his eyes around quickly, trying to spot one or more fellow clannsmen he could bring into his plan, but there simply were none. His fellows who had also acquired mounts were taking off after the enemy in all directions. He must go it alone.

John shrugged and dug heels into flanks and headed out over the countryside. Any of the Aberdeen clannsmen who saw him must have thought him either daft or a slink, for there were no enemies, herding their booty, going in this direction. He grimaced, knowing the dishonor that would be his, did his plan fail.

He rode hard, pushing his newly acquired and dominated animal. Over field, over heath, through clumps of trees, up and over the hills. Aüi. He knew this land well, but never had he ridden it at such breakneck speed.

The hills grew higher as the horse began to weary, and shortly he was in a narrow valley. Narrower and narrower.

Until at last, he reached his destination. Reached it and passed through the narrow way.

On the far side of the pass, he leaped from the horse’s back, took its reins, hurried it into the shelter of the patch of trees to one side and tethered it. He momentarily considered binding its mouth so that it could not whinny at the sound of other horses approaching. But no, the animal was too weary from its hard gallop to be interested in the company of its fellows.

John took in hand the scabbard of his claidheammor, to keep it from tripping him up, and began his ascent of the steep hill at a trot.

At the top, at the spot he’d had in mind from the first, he looked back over the way he had come. And doubts hit him. There was nothing in sight—not so much as a flurry of dust. Perhaps he had miscalculated.

But no, how could he have? Given scores of Thompsons scattering, and then converging again on their hometown of Caithness, surely at least one enemy clannsman and his stolen horses must come through here. Simply must. If not, all was disgrace for John of the Hawks.

He settled himself down to wait, sitting on a rock. At this stage he would not be spotted. He considered his plan ol action, when and if the raider or raiders did appear. He cursed himself now, for not having taken the few more moments of time it might have taken to locate his carbine. A more beautiful ambush than this could hardly be asked. The fleeing raiders would not be thinking in terms of Hawk clannsmen before them but would undoubtedly be constantly looking over their shoulders. Given a carbine, John could knock at least two off their horses before they could take defensive measures. But there was little profit in dwelling upon that. The fact remained that all the weapons he had were his heavy claidheammor and his skean.

He thoughtfully picked up a large rock and hefted it. But no. The foe would pass directly below, and it was possible he might hit one in the head—possible, but hardly probable. He was no great marksman with a thrown stone. There was no occasion for him to be. The youth of Aberdeen played with wooden weapons, not balls.

And now, at a distance, he could spot a cloud of quickly rising dust.

Aüi! He had won! At least, to this point he had won.

Just in case, he gathered half a dozen suitable heavy stones and put them ready to hand. Then he crouched behind his boulder. It would hardly do for the other or others to be keen enough of eye to spot his movement up here.

The newcomer: were approaching at a rapid pace, and he could make out individual forms. Four horses and but one rider. As a now full-fledged clannsman or, at least, one suffered to sit among the clannsmen until being formally raised up at the next regular muster, he couldn’t admit relief that there was only one foe to deal with, but deep within him the relief was there. In spite of his efforts of the past two days, he was a young man still, with neither the physical capacity nor the experience of a Thompson clannsman.

He ducked lower and peered from behind his defense. And now he scowled. There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger upon…

And then it came to him. The lead horse, scurrying along before the others, herded by the raider, was his own personal steed, stolen with the other Hawk animals in the pastures. And—added wonder—now that they came closer, he saw that the rest were the three he had stolen himself at the stream, precipitating this whole affair. He was taken aback. It was an unexpected coincidence.

He tried to measure the enemy clannsman who was pounding along hard behind the rapidly tiring beasts. And again there was relief. Unless he was mistaken at this distance, the other could be little older and larger than John himself. Possibly not even a full clannsman, but simply a youth brought along to help with the stolen herds.

John gathered himself. His plan of action was now clear. He put his claidheammor down beside him and took up one of the stones.

The fleeing group had entered the narrow way, slowed slightly by the rocky character of the pass. And on they came.

Suddenly, he heaved the rock in his right hand at the first, riderless horse, even as it passed beneath him. He quickly shifted his second stone to his right hand and threw it as well.

The lead animal screamed terror and reared, slowing all those behind, who also took fright.

He jumped to his feet, grabbed his skean from his belt, and leaped. Luck was ever with him. He launched himself full onto the back of the Clann Thompson raider, who, completely startled by the unexpected attack, toppled from the horse, John still atop.

While they were atumble on the ground, John raised the knife, preparatory to the stab. But it was uncalled for. The enemy was unconscious, a cut on the side of the head from the fall.

But there was another reason John of the Hawks stayed his blow.

There was no stronger bann than that against injuring a woman.

Chapter Four

And as John of the Hawks came to his feet and stared down at the woman he had struck down, he realized that she was not even a woman but merely a lass. Certainly no older than he himself.

She wore the kilts of the Clann Thompson, and her hair was cut short in the style of young men. And at her side was a skean. He gaped at her. In all his life, he had never heard of a lass so desexing herself. Shameless, Thompson women might be rumored to be, but most certainly he had never seen one at the yearly Dail dressed as a man and carrying a weapon.

The horses, all trained battle steeds, had come to a halt at the far end of the pass. John, deciding she would be out for a time, at least, or, if she recovered, would still be of little danger, went and secured them and tied them where he had left his own animal. Then he went to the hill crest and regained his claidheammor and returned it to its scabbard.

He strode down then to where he had left her.

She was beginning to regain consciousness.

He had no water, or he might have bathed her head a bit. As it was, he sat on a boulder and waited, still scowling disbelief. So far as he knew, in all the history of his phylum, never had a woman, armed or otherwise, participated in a raid. There was even a puzzling aspect about it. How did one defend himself against a lass? Suppose she came at you with carbine, claidheammor or skean. What did a clannsman do—turn and run? What else was there to do?

But now she was stirring and moaning. John of the Hawks squatted down beside her, lifting her head to his knee and stroking the forehead awkwardly.

By the Holy, she was a pretty thing! High forehead, reddish hair, cut short though it was, a generous mouth, perhaps just a shade too wide. Teeth that were white, white; a firm chin.

And suddenly, blue eyes staring unbelievingly up into his own.

She snatched Quickly for her skean.

John took it from her as gently as the situation allowed and threw the damper down the pass.

He said awkwardly, “I would not harm you, lass. We of the Clann Hawk do not harm women.”

She sat up now, and John came to his feet. He scowled at her, not knowing what to say. What did a clannsman say, upon capturing a raider who turned out to be a woman—a lass?

She stood up too and looked at him scornfully but then began to sway. She put a hand to the cut at the side of her head, brought it back and looked at it and seemed about to swoon at the sight of the blood. There was not much, but it was blood.

John stepped forward and put a hand about her waist.

She began to react in fear, but he said gently, “Easy, lass, I wouldn’t harm you. Come over here and sit on the heather a bit. You’ll get over your dizzy spell.”

She suffered him to take her over to a softer area and to seat her more comfortably than would have been possible in the stony pass.

He waited patiently for long minutes and finally realized that she was peering at him from between the fingers she had been holding over her eyes.

Seventeen—perhaps only sixteen, he decided. What in the name of the Holy did the Thompson clannsmen have in mind, bringing such a child on a raid? He was conveniently forgetting that he himself was not yet eighteen and, except in an emergency at the time of a raid, confined to such activities as holding the horses of full clannsmen whilst they fought on foot, or bringing up ammunition or water, perhaps assisting the wounded.

Trying to force gruffness into his voice and failing miserably he said, “Now tell me all about this.”

“About what?” she said defiantly.

“Come on, lass, the proof is there before us. You are armed. You are on a raid of the Clann Thompson against Aberdeen.”

She had taken her hands from her face and was now I owning at him. She said slowly, “But you are the young Hawk clannsman who stole our horses at the riverbank.”

He grunted. “And counted coup on three of the Clann Thompson who had been astealing of Hawk cattle.”

She said wonderingly, “But you are such a young clannsman to have done so much.”

There was no answer to that, though he wished he looked older. She was as pretty a lass as he had ever seen, he realized. And it came to him that it would not be too many years before he would be faced with stealing a bride from some clann other than the Hawks.

She said, “What will you do with me?” But there was only the faintest of fear of the unknown, far in the background. The girl was no slink, but then, she had already proved that.

John said, “First, I will demand you tell me how you are here, under these circumstances.”

Her mouth tightened stubbornly, but he held his peace, waiting, and finally she spoke. “I am Alice of the Thompsons.”

He nodded to that. “I am John of the Hawks.”

“I was but one lass, in a family of five sons.” He couldn’t see what that had to do with it. Most families of Caledonia had at least as many children as that, and a large percentage of males was certainly preferable, considering the number of casualties taken by the clanns-men in raids and in defense of the flocks.

But she was going on. “It was not a family for a lass. My mother had been captured in a raid from the Edin Phylum, and I was raised by my kyn and my brothers. I was more prone to play with the toy claidheammors than with dolls and the other nonsense of girl children. Until I was all but a woman, this was true.”

“Go on,” John said.

“So it was that when my five brothers were killed in a raid of clannsmen from Aberdeen, attempting to protect our herds—”

“Five!” John said blankly. “All five in one raid?”

“All five. Two came home that night with but wounds; however, they died before the week was out, when the fleshrot set in.”

“Aüi, lass!” John murmured.

She took a deep breath. “I was still a child, but I took an oath that I would have my revengement on Aberdeen. I took it before my clann elders, and in their pity, none laughed. But as the years went by, over and over I told all that one day I would have my revengement. And I set aside childhood and practiced as best I could and as best my kyn would allow me with claidheammor and skean and carbine, though it was seldom indeed I could cozen a clannsman into allowing me to use his firearm.” John of the Hawks was staring at her.

She took another breath. “And always, after I had grown to womanhood, I pleaded with them to take me on their raids. And sent praise to the Holy, that it would be so. “Until finally, perhaps worried of my health, the sachem and caciques discussed the matter, and one was appointed a spokesman to remonstrate with me, since it had become a scandal in the Caithness Phylum and I made all uncomfortable. When I held to my oath, then he demanded if I would be satisfied with but one raid against Aberdeen and would then subside, let my hair grow long, and participate in the activities of women.”

“Go on,” John said, his eyes still wide in disbelief. He had never heard such a tale. Surely it could never happen in Aberdeen amongst his own kyn.

She said bitterly, “I was not to find out until later that the raid was a minor one, deliberately planned for my sake. We rode to the outskirts of the heath of Aberdeen—”

“And the preserves of the Clann Hawk,” John muttered.

“Yes. And there we proceeded to do no more than round up and butcher the cattle. Far from danger of meeting the clannsmen of Aberdeen.”

“But that was when I, on a long scout, found you.”

“Yes. And counted coup on Will, Raid Cacique of the Clann Thompson, and two of his sagamores.”

“Aüi!” John blurted. This would be something to relate to the muster when he was raised up to full clannsman.

“So then,” she said, “all was forgotten about the original purpose of the raid. The whole party was gathered together, and we rode at full pace for Aberdeen, Will, the Raid Cacique, riding ahead in a furious rage.”

She shrugged. “You know the rest. Your herds were practically unguarded. We rounded up the horses, and each member of the party was given a few head to herd back to Caithness. Will was revenged, at least in part. If mine, alone, of the horses have been recaptured, then it is the biggest raid known in the memory of living clannsmen.”

“Yours will not be alone,” John said sourly. “But I will admit, it was a gigantic raid—and well executed.” The last was hard to bring out.

“And now,” she said, her voice again bitter, “I suppose von will return me to Aberdeen to become a clannless one in your household.”

For a long time he stared at her. Finally, he shook his head. “No, lass. You were never meant to be a kitchen drudge. Before the week was out, you would be stolen from our longhouse by a Clark or a Fielding or one from the other clanns of Aberdeen.”

“What difference that to you? They would have to pay the brideright, and a few horses or cattle—I would surely bring a few horses—must be welcome to a clannsman as young as yourself. I see that you are already wed. Or is it that you do not find pleasure in my appearance yourself?” There was a wistful quality in her voice as she touched a feminine hand to her hair.

“I am not wed,” he said gruffly.

“Aüi,” she said, her voice bitter still. “I am not so sure that the clannsmen of your phylum will find me desirable either, John of the Hawks. Undoubtedly, the younger men will think of me as you do. If I am honorably stolen by one of your Aberdeen clannsmen, it will be by one of the older clannsmen, perhaps incapacitated by wounds, who desires youth in bed and a strong lass who can be driven to hard work at his hearth and in his quarters.”

John of the Hawks had come to his feet again. He stared down at her for a moment, then walked over to where he had tethered the horses and returned with the one upon which she had been riding when he had leaped from his ambush.

He held the reins to her.

She looked up at him blankly.

“Return to Caithness,” he said. “I am not as yet raised up to full clannsman, Alice of the Thompsons, and will not be until the next muster. Thus, I am not eligible to steal a bride. And if I returned with you to Aberdeen, someone else would take you before it was meet that I could. So return to your kyn, Alice of the Thompsons.”

She stood and looked at him, bewildered.

He added, “And I will come for you another day.”

She blushed then, as a good lass must “If you come, my kyn will defend me.”

He twisted his mouth in amusement.

“And if they fail,” she insisted, her head high, “I will take my own life with my skean.”

“I have heard of the tradition,” he said with amused skepticism, “but I have never heard of its happening. Besides, at the next meeting of the Dail I will ask the Sachem of the Hawks to confer with the Sachem of the Thompsons and honorably arrange for the stealing of Alice of the Thompsons, arranging in advance with her claim for suitable payment of the brideright.”

In a sudden, seemingly uncalled for fury, she raised her hand to slap him.

But he was having none of that. He grabbed her strongly and kissed her full on the mouth. She held tense for a long moment, then her mouth went soft, as though unwillingly. Through her jerkin, he could feel the softness of her breasts. Finally, he released her and stood back, smiling.

She rubbed her hand across her mouth. “But… but I am not your bride,” she said in horror. “And it is against the bann.”

He grinned at her. “It surely is,” he said.

She turned and jumped astride the horse and glared down at him in feminine rage. “I have been shamed,” she snapped.

“I doubt it,” he told her. “For none know save you and me.”

She dug furious heels into the steed and was gone. And John of the Hawks stood and watched after the woman he loved until she was long out of sight.

Largely, as he rode back to Aberdeen, herding the recaptured three animals, his mind was on Alice of the Thompsons, as was to be expected of a young man yet to be wed. But he dwelt also on the men from Beyond, and because the distance was passing far for one who rode and herded animals, he had ample time to consider ramifications.

The weapon the one named DeRudder had demonstrated was cause for thought. On the face of it, the man from other worlds was not averse to using the frightful thing. And what had he said? “I can wipe them all out with one sweep of this.”

John suppressed a shudder as, unworthy of a clannsman though the thought might be, he couldn’t help considering what a handful of such weapons could accomplish on a raid. The men from Beyond named themselves explorers, and if John understood the word correctly, they were on a peaceful mission. But suppose they had come in raid? Who could resist them, with such weapons?

There were other aspects. On the face of it, the other-worldlings were far and beyond the Caledonians, whose most advanced vehicle was a simple two wheeled cart. Even John could envision the span between a horse drawn cart and a craft that could cross space.

The light was fading rapidly now, and his exhaustion came upon him, and he could make it no further. He drove his animals to a hidden gully, hobbled them, and threw himself to the heather.

When he awakened, it was well toward noon and he was well refreshed, though he had slept upon the ground with not even a cloak. Thus is youth, especially on Caledonia, where, long since, man and nature had eliminated the unfit.

He retrieved his horses, who had not wandered far in their search for graze, in view of the hobbles, and took up again his ride to Aberdeen.

As he drew nearer to the town, he occasionally spotted others, undoubtedly fellow clannsmen, heading in the same direction. A few herded horses, but most rode dejectedly without.

Alice of the Thompsons had been correct. It had been a raid of raids, and so far as the clannsmen of Aberdeen were concerned they had counted few, if any, coups, killed few of the raiders indeed, and recovered but a fraction of their stolen animals. It was a black day, a day Aberdeen bards would never sing, though most certainly those of Caithness would. He winced to think of the coming Dail, in spite of his own glory.

Closer to the town, he met his friend Don of the Clarks, who, besides the mount he rode, herded another animal before him. It was not a battle steed but an older draft animal, and there was an air of dispirit on the face of the other.

John hailed him, keeping any elation from his voice, for John of the Hawks was maturing rapidly. His own three recaptured steeds were sleek, in their prime, and well trained. Above all, they were not property of related clannsmen, and hence, it was not necessary to return them to former owners. They were enemy horse and hence John’s own, save, of course, the one he rode.

Don asked, “Where did you find them?” He was of John’s own age, and they had grown up together, shared many an experience in common. However, somehow he appeared strangely young now to John. Callow, perhaps.

The other was not a Hawk, so had he willed, John could have lied to him. However, he made a half truth, realizing only now that he hadn’t the slightest idea of what story he would tell the sachem and the war cacique of the Hawks.

He said, “I took them from one of the raiders. All except one fast steed upon which the Thompson hurried off toward Caithness, slightly wounded.”

“Aüi!” Don of the Clarks said in disgust. “If only I had such a story. I spotted not even one. I found this ugly nag straying. The Holy only knows to whom she belongs.”

John nodded. “There will be shame in Aberdeen this day.”

From there on they rode in glum silence.

At the gate, the warder and his men greeted them with compliments, by which John assumed that few indeed were the clannsmen who had done even as well as he.

They turned their mounts and recaptured animals over to youths to be led back to the pastures. Then, after brief farewells, they headed toward their respective longhouses, carrying their horses’ harness and their weapons and coup sticks.

Bemused with both thoughts of the action of the day before and his experience with Alice of the Thompsons, John made the same mistake he had on the previous afternoon. He automatically headed for his own family quarters and the room in which he had been quartered for the greater part of his life, forgetful, for the moment, that the apartment had been turned over to the strangers from Beyond.

He caught himself almost immediately after he entered, though evidently the otherworldlings were not using his chamber, the rest of the apartment being ample for their needs. He turned to leave the room by the door that led to the long hall, but once again he heard voices.

He hesitated. Eavesdropping was beneath the dignity of a clannsman, though there was no definite bann, or even established custom.

However, he told himself in excuse, they were not members of the Clann Hawk, or even of the Aberdeen Phylum. And for that matter, their strangeness was such that they bore looking into.

He pressed his ear to the door that led to the living quarters. As before, the others were obviously alone and once again in full debate. It would seem that these men from the League, as they called it, were as mystified by the institutions of Caledonia as John and his fellow phyletics were by the ways of the men from Beyond.

He decided it was DeRudder’s voice he was hearing. The second in command of the Golden Hind was saying, “And I claim we better get out. Did you hear what their big mucky-muck said at the muster? They’ve got a traditional three days of hospitality for the traveling stranger. All right. What happens after the three days are up? And that’s today, mind you.”

One of the other voices—Harmon’s?—said sneeringly, “What could happen? We’ve awed them. They don’t know what to make of us.”

The skipper’s voice said slowly, “No, we haven’t awed them. They don’t know what to make of us, but we haven’t awed them. You know what they’re busily up to now?” There was no answer to his question, and the skipper went on, “They’re rounding up a raiding party, to replenish their herds of horses.”

DeRudder said, “You mean they’re going to go after this gang that hit them yesterday?”

“No, not at all. One of the war caciques told me that wouldn’t do. The Thompsons, or whatever their name was, would be prepared and ready to defend themselves. So they’re going to attack another town. They’re going to raid somebody else that they haven’t had any trouble with recently.”

“Krishna!” a nervous voice said. “What a people! I’m in favor of getting back to the ship. I wish we’d brought the skimmer with us instead of the groundcraft.”

Harmon said, “I’d like to stick around and see if there isn’t some way of changing their minds on signing over exploitation rights to their mineral resources. We could offer them just about anything. On the face of it, they’re practically poverty stricken so far as commodities are concerned.” The nervous one—Perez, John decided—said, “What would we do with it, if we got it?”

Harmon’s voice said, “Don’t be empty. We’d ditch this so-called exploratory cruise and head for some of the nearest frontier planets, those with early free enterprise type economies. Can you imagine being able to dump an almost limitless amount of platinum onto an open market? And do you realize the scale of living of the really rich on those planets? Why, the Caesars never had it so good.”

The skipper said thoughtfully, “Harmon’s right. Given the concession, we could find means of profiting by it. The problem is getting the concession.”

John of the Hawks was scowling. About half of this, He didn’t understand at all.

It was DeRudder’s turn. He said, “I’m in favor of immediate return to the ship too. We’ve already fouled things up here, in trying to learn what makes them tick. We’ll have to go on to some other town. Some other phylum, as they call it. We’ve got a little background now and can do better. By the way, do you know what phylum means?”

There was no answer, and his voice took over again. “It means tribe, in this connection, if I’m taking it from the Greek correctly. I would say that they’ve got a system of several clanns that make up each phylum. These phyla, in turn, are loosely made up into confederations. From what the old boy said yesterday, there are such confederations all over the planet. He mentioned knowing of twenty-three others.”

“So?” the skipper said.

“So we’ll set down in the territory of some other confederation and start all over again.”

“Start what?”

“Subverting institutions, to put it bluntly. Somewhere we’ll find a phylum that’s just taken such a licking from a neighbor that they’ll accept our offer of repeating rifles.”

Harmon said, “By the way, where are we getting anything as primitive as repeating rifles and submachine guns? The only place I’ve ever seen such things was in historical fiction shows.”

“Don’t be a dully. We could take half a ton of platinum to any of the frontier planets, and they’d tool up and whomp them up for us in a week’s time.”

“Why not more sophisticated weapons?” the nervous voice said.

“You’re being particularly dense today, Perez. We don’t want to give them the sort of firepower that’d enable them to work us over.”

“I guess you’re right.”

The skipper’s voice said, “And what if we find the same thing elsewhere that we ran into here? That none of these phyla, or whatever you call them, will sign over their mineral rights?”

DeRudder’s voice went suave. “Skipper, there are ways. Obviously, we must abide by the League Canons, but at this distance, that will be no problem. And we can take a page from early Earth history. There are ways for, ah, civilizing backward peoples whether they want to be civilized or not. Remember the European pilgrims and pioneers and the Amerinds? For instance, I note that they have a distilled spirit here they call uisgebeatha, and, believe me, it’s potent. Very well, where you have potent nip, you’ve got people who are hooked on it. All we have to do is find a sachem or so hooked on uisgebeatha, get him binged and have him sign over mineral rights to us.”

His voice expressing interest, Harmon said, “How do you know that under local laws the sachems have such power?”

“What do we care? They’re kind of a chief, aren’t they? With the papers signed by one or two sachems, we can go to one of the less punctilious planets and get some military beef to back up our legal rights.”

The skipper said heavily. “Mr. DeRudder, I can see you missed your calling. But what if we can’t find any such sachems?”

DeRudder laughed. “In that case, Skipper, maybe well elect one or two of our own. Once the chaos starts, who can say who the legal sachems are, and who aren’t?

“Just a minute,” Harmon said abruptly. His heavy boots sounded on the floor, as he moved rapidly across the room toward the door behind which John of the Hawks stood.

Chapter Five

But some instinct had warned John a split second before. He spun and scurried across the room to the door to the long hall and was through it before the other could expose him.

In the hall, he shot his eyes up and down, having no immediate plan of action. Where would he find the Sachem of the Hawks? Obviously…

He was saved the problem.

Through the door to the living quarters of his family stepped DeRudder. On spotting John, he whipped his side-arm from its holster.

“All right, boy,” he said. “Step in here.”

John of the Hawks looked at him. “I have no fear of your weapon,” he said. “A shout and my kynsmen will be upon you.”

“But you will be very dead by that time, boy.”

“I am not afraid to die. I am a Hawk.”

DeRudder hefted the gun up and down. “However, you have seen what the weapon could do. Would you expose your relatives to it?”

John thought about that only briefly. He stepped forward. DeRudder stood to one side, the gun trained, as John entered the room where the others from Beyond were gathered.

He stood there before them defiantly.

DeRudder closed the door behind him and said, “The overgrown dully’s been snooping. What’ll we do with him?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Perez said quickly. “The fat’s fixing to be in the fire before we know it.”

The skipper looked at John, remaining seated in the same chair he had been in the day before. He said. “How much did you hear, son?”

“Do not call me son. I am not kyn of yours.”

“Oh, belligerent, eh? Not quite the same polite boy you were yesterday.” The skipper looked at DeRudder and then to the other two of his officers. “If you’ve got anything around here, gather it up quick. We’re going back to the Golden Hind.”

DeRudder jerked his head at John. “What do we do with our empty friend, here?”

The skipper considered it, his face dour. Finally he said, “Bring him along. We can use a hostage. Besides, I’d like one of them to question a little more. Half of this whole setup leaves me blank.”

“Let’s get going,” Perez said.

“I refuse to go with you,” John said.

DeRudder chuckled. “Boy,” he said, “you remember the beam that came out of this gun when I shot it up into the sky? Believe me, with it, in ten minutes I can cut down this whole pint-sized village of yours.”

The skipper said gruffly, “And it’s not the only gun we’ve got on hand, son. Come along.”

John said, “Ten minutes is a long time. The clannsmen of Aberdeen are not slinks.”

Harmon grunted contempt. “And they’re not in Aberdeen, either. Practically nobody but women and children are in Aberdeen. Half of your men are still out chasing Thompsons or whatever you called them. The other half have already taken off to raid another town. You Caledonians seem to spend most of your time butchering each other.”

“So if there’s any fighting,” DeRudder said, “it’ll largely be with women and children, eh? Well, boy…”

“I will come,” John said.

DeRudder made a mocking gesture with the gun. “After you, John of the Hawks. Our groundcar is parked behind the building, in that area you use for your saddle animals that are in immediate use. Take us there by the shortest route. And careful, boy. The slightest trick and we unlimber our artillery and shoot our way out.”

John didn’t know what the word “artillery” meant, but he could guess. He said stiffly, “I told you I would come. And even though you are not my clannsmen, I do not lie to you.”

He led the way out into the long hall and down it to the entry that led to the paddock. They passed only three or four fellow residents of the Hawk community house as they went, and none of these were clannsmen. Harmon had been right. The men of the Clann Hawk were highly occupied.

In the paddock, John’s eyes widened, whether he would or not. The vehicle there was a far cry from anything he had ever expected to see on Caledonia. It was of metal, streamlined and beautiful. There were two doors, one on each side, and several windows. There were no wheels, which mystified him.

Perez opened one of the doors, saying, “Let’s get out of here,” although obviously that was exactly what they were already doing.

DeRudder said to John, “Take off that belt, boy. I think we’d better relieve you of that set of toad stickers.”

John kept his shame to himself as he turned over his claidheammor and skean.

The skipper motioned him inside, and he entered the vehicle from Beyond and took a seat in the rear. There was seating for ten persons and ample room for luggage or whatever to the rear.

The others got in, the officer named Harmon behind a set of bewildering dials and switches and a small wheel.

In spite of the position he was in, John of the Hawks was fascinated.

The others settled themselves, and Harmon dropped a lever. There was a faint hum, and John’s stomach turned over in surprised rebellion as the heavy craft lifted slightly from the ground. Harmon trod upon another gadget, and they began moving forward.

The vehicle from Beyond progressed slowly to the entry of the paddock and then, as they entered the broad street before the longhouse of the Hawks, sped up. They headed for the Aberdeen main gate, going faster still.

The gate was open, and as they passed through it, John could see the warder, wide eyed, staring at them. Only at the List minute did he see that John was in the craft, along with the otherworldlings.

Once in the countryside, Harmon flicked another lever, and the craft rose another foot or two and increased speed considerably. They were now progressing as fast as any horse upon which John had ever ridden. He set his facial muscles, hating to show these others that he was amazed. And faster still, and faster. The countryside sped past in bewildering rapidity. In a matter of moments, they had covered ground that would have taken a horseman hours.

DeRudder, who still carried his weapon in his hand, albeit loosely and nonchalantly, grinned at John. “Now if that sachem mucky-muck of yours hadn’t been so empty, we might have made a deal to turn over a few of these Goundcars in return for platinum rights,” he said. “Can you imagine the advantage of taking one of these on one of your raids?”

John said, “Undoubtedly, the Keepers of the Faith would have decided it was against the bann.”

The skipper said to him dourly. “Everything seems to be taboo on this damned planet. Why should repeating rifles be against the bann?”

“That, like all banns, is in the hands of the Holy,” John said without inflection.

“Great,” DeRudder grunted. “But somehow the Holy, by whatever name you want to call him, usually makes with his words of wisdom and his threats through the lips of some intermediary or other. Such as your Keepers of the Faith, or bedels, or whatever you call them.”

John had never thought of that aspect, but he kept his peace.

DeRudder said in irritation, “So what do your Keepers of the Faith teach you was the reason for a bann against rifles that shoot more than once?”

John of the Hawks had never been particularly reverent; however, he had done the usual amount of reading of the Holy books when he was taking such schooling as Aberdeen saw fit for its youth to assimilate.

He said, “It is written that in the misty days, shortly after the Inverness Ark came from Beyond—”

“The what?” the skipper said sharply. “What was the name of that ship?”

“Ship?” John said.

“The name of the, well, whatever it was you came in from, uh, Beyond?”

“The Ark,” John said. “All of the people of Caledonia came in the Holy Inverness Ark.”

“Krishna!” the skipper said. “I remember now. Possibly the first pioneer craft ever to be lost in space. Crewed largely by colonists from northern Great Britain.”

John didn’t know what the skipper was talking about. DeRudder said, “Go on. Why the bann against gun that shoots more than once?”

John continued. “In the misty days, there were few people in all the land, and only slowly did the first phylum multiply. And at that time it is written that there was strong bann against man raising his hand to man, even though honor was involved. All lived in peace, as all will live in peace when the Land of the Leal is achieved.”

DeRudder said, “Great. But about the bann against repeating rifles?”

John said, “But when the people grew so numerous that there was no longer space for all the herds or sufficient game for the hunters, then there was a meeting of the sachem fathers of each clann, and it was decided that half the people, half from each clann, would gather together and move far off to a new land. And so it was. So that now there were two phyla, rather than one. And time passed, and still the people grew in number. So both the new phyla split, and half their number moved away to new lands.”

DeRudder was staring at him. “I’ll be damned. So finally, you spread over the whole planet, tribe by tribe, splitting as soon as there got to be so many that your primitive economies were fouled up by overpopulation.”

John didn’t understand that. For that matter, he was largely reciting what he had always considered legend or myth, and much of it wasn’t clear to him.

He went on, “But then, as the number of the phyla grew throughout the land, man began to ignore the original bann against raising hand against his fellowman, and the raids began. So it was that the Keepers of the Faith and the bedels gathered, and it was revealed to them by the Holy that there must be banns to control the relationship between the phyla. So it was that it was ruled that it is more glorious to count coup on man than to kill. So it was that the weapons of all were decided upon, and a carbine must fire but one shot at a time, so as to minimize the number that might be killed in a raid. All this so that the population would not be decimated.”

Harmon said, “There’s the ship. Krishna! What’s going on?”

They were coming in fast, and John’s eyes bugged. The craft was double the length of a longhouse and all obviously of metal. Could any clannsman swallow the nonsense that such an object could fly between the stars?

But while he goggled at the vehicle from Beyond, the others were taking in the clannsmen who, concealed by hillocks or any other cover they could find, were firing their carbines at the huge spaceship.

When the groundcraft approached from the rear, the startled clannsmen were up and away, scurrying for new cover, or possibly even for their horses.

“Bruces,” John said contemptuously.

“’What?” the skipper said.

“Clannsmen of the Clann Bruce,” John said. “A whole clann of slinks.”

“If that means coward,” Perez said, “I’d hate to see a hero on this damned planet. Here they are, attacking a ship with nothing but single shot rifles.”

The skipper said, “Take her into the port, Harmon. We don’t want to get out here—there might be some of those sharpshooters still around.”

As they got nearer to the Golden Hind they passed over several kilt clad bodies, Bruces who must have fallen in a charge on the ship.

To John’s amazement, as they approached the rearing otherworld spaceship it seemed to grow even larger than his first estimates. In volume it was at least the size of three or four longhouses. And as they drew near, slowing now, one of the metal walls slid open, and where earlier he could have seen no indication of an entry port, now there was one and a ramp of metal to ascend to it.

Harmon expertly jockeyed the groundcraft up the ramp, and they slid into the interior. He flicked his lift lever, and the vehicle sank to the metal flooring. Harmon stretched and yawned. “Home again,” he said sourly.

Perez opened a door manually and stepped out. Another otherworldling came hurrying up. He was dressed as were the four who had come to Aberdeen, but there was a bandage around his head, and his arm was worn in a sling. When all, including John of the Hawks, had disembarked, the skipper scowled at the newcomer. “Where is the chief?” he growled. “What in the name of Krishna’s going on a-round here, Wylie?”

“The engineer’s dead,” the one named Wylie said excitedly. “Where’ve you been, Skipper? All hell’s busted loose since you left. We were afraid they’d got you. T. Z. Chu’s dead too. If you hadn’t come back, we couldn’t even’ve lifted off.”

“Dead?” Perez said in shock.

Darting a glance at John, but then coming back to his fellows, Wylie said, “The raids started right after you left. It was the first one got us. They came charging in on horses, shooting and with these big swords, and they caught the engineer and Chu outside. I tried to come out to help, and they nicked me. Jerry and I managed to run them off with flamers, but it was too late for the chief engineer and T. Z.”

The skipper turned coldly to John. “I thought there were three days of hospitality for traveling strangers.”

John said, “The kilts on those clannsmen outside are those of Bruces. They are not of our phylum. You are on Aberdeen lands. We have granted you the three days of hospitality, in spite of your actions. But the Clann Bruce is not affected by the bann in this case. Do you know nothing at all of honorable usage?”

The skipper turned from him in disgust and back to the wounded man from Beyond. “What else happened?”

“Jerry and I have been fighting them off ever since,” the man called Wylie said. “At first we bowled them over like nothing. But they’re smarting up now. They don’t come within range of small arms or at least, not so we can see them. They just lay off and ping away at us.”

Harmon said. “What harm can they do?”

Wylie said to him, “Nothing, against the hull of the ship. But we can’t go out. They tried to build a big fire up against us last night. I tell you, they’re tricky.”

John was taking all this in, without overmuch surprise. The men from Beyond were fair game for any clannsman save those from Aberdeen, and now that the three days were up, they were game for Aberdeen, too.

The skipper grimaced. He thought about it. In irritation he snapped at DeRudder, “Put this dully in confinement somewhere, and everybody come on into the lounge.”

DeRudder upped his weapon and motioned to John with it. “This way.”

John preceded him down a long corridor of metal. John of the Hawks had never seen so much metal in his life. It gave him a strange feeling of being shut in, a disturbing feeling. The halls were more narrow than those of the long-houses. The ceilings were lower, and he felt as though they were squeezing him down. He wondered how long it must take to come from the Beyond to Caledonia and how the otherworldlings could bear to be confined, whatever the time involved. Did they not feel the demand to dash outside and see the sky above, the distances stretching away? It would have been a horror to him. Indeed, it was a horror even in so little a time.

He was conducted to a small compartment—smaller even than his young man’s quarters in the longhouse—and ushered inside. The door was closed behind him, and he heard a noise that was a lock, though this he didn’t know, the institution of locked doors being unknown on Caledonia;

And then came the most trying ordeal in the seventeen years of John of the Hawks. For confined though the corridor of the Golden Hind might have seemed to him, it was like all space compared to this small hold which measured little more than his height in length, breadth and depth.

His soul screamed against his imprisonment, as that of the eagle or hawk must when encased in a space so small that it cannot spread its wings, as that of the timber wolf must when brought to the zoo from its woodland range.

All his tendency was to beat with his fists against the metal door and scream to be released, but the pride of a score of generations of clannsmen came to his aid and preserved sanity. He refused to play the slink before these foe.

Chapter Six

He found some release in closing his eyes and pretending to be in his own quarters. There was a cot, much too short for him, but at least he was able to recline. And finally sleep came.

He was awakened by a noise at the door and at first didn’t comprehend where he was, but then it came flooding back to him.

It was DeRudder, and the other carried his weapon in hand. He said, “Come along, John, the skipper wants to talk to you.”

John came to his feet and followed the other out into the corridor. DeRudder gestured again with the gun. “That way.”

They proceeded down the metal hall again, to emerge at last into a fairly large compartment, large enough, at least, so that the awful feeling of confined space was not quite so bad. There were various chairs, tables and other furnishings, and the four spacemen John had originally met were augmented by two others, Wylie and another. John noted with satisfaction that the man with Wylie was also wounded. Evidently, the Clann Bruce was doing fairly well—for the Clann Bruce. John slightly altered his opinion of their fighting abilities.

The skipper, who was seated at a table, a glass of some darkish liquid before him, said gruffly, “Sit down, John. We want to talk to you.”

“I will stand, Skipper of the Fowlers.”

DeRudder said, “Would you like a drink?” He added sarcastically, “Our nip isn’t quite up to that uisgebeatha of yours, but it’ll take the lining off your throat.”

John of the Hawks was somewhat taken aback by the offer, but he said, “I will take no hospitality from you.”

“You must realize that there is now vendetta between the Hawks and the Clann DeRudder, and my kynsmen will take revengement of my honor.”

The skipper said, “Don’t be empty.”

John looked at him. “And you also, Skipper of the Fowlers.” His eyes went to Harmon and Perez. “And you two also. My kyn will take their revengement on your clanns.”

Harmon snorted amusement.

DeRudder said, “Among other things, we don’t have clanns to fight feuds, even if we were primitive enough to have such an institution. We don’t use the same type of relationship as you do, boy. You still evidently have a gens system. We of the League have been beyond that for a few thousand years.”

“You mean you are clannless? You are without kyn?” John’s lips were going white. “And you laid hands on me, a Hawk? Dishonored me by taking me prisoner and stripping me of my weapons, rather than letting me face black death in honorable combat? How can my kynsmen take revengement if you are clannless men?”

The one named Perez shook his head. “The words are Earth Basic, but half of what he says doesn’t come through. At least, not to me.”

Harmon leaned forward. “Why should your relatives, your kinsmen, want to revenge you?

“What else could they do, after my blood has been shed?”

DeRudder wiped the back of his hand over his mouth in frustration. “Look. Nobody is going to shed your blood.”

John of the Hawks stared at him in utter disbelief. Finally he said, “Then what will you do with me?”

“Well turn you loose, of course.”

“To return to Aberdeen, weaponless to the Hawks?”

“Why weaponless? You can have your damn weapons. All we want to do is ask you a few more questions about how this dully of a planet works.”

John shook his head. “Why would you do this to me? What have I done to you that you should desire to make a woman of me? Why not count honorable coup of me, or at least kill me?”

The skipper, who had remained silent during all this, stirred. “We don’t want to kill you, son. We want a little more information, so that when we go up against the next town we’ll know more of the customs. You’re free to go, sword and all, as soon as we’re through.”

His voice shaken, John said, “I will follow you. Somehow I will follow you. The word spreads throughout the countryside, and somehow I will learn where you are, and somehow I will follow you until I have killed you all or you have killed me.”

DeRudder rolled his eyes upward in appeal to higher powers. “Great. So why don’t we just kill you “here and now, eh? And then we won’t have the damned threat of you coming charging around a corner someday whirling that overgrown cheese knife.”

“This is to be expected,” John said evenly. “And then my kyn will come to find revengement, and you will be killed as clannless ones are killed. And there will be no one to take revengement or pay the bloodright for you.”

“It’s still going past me,” Perez muttered.

The skipper was interested. He leaned forward. “Look, son, how many of you Hawks are there?”

John said, “We number some 1,500 full clannsmen.”

“All right. Now, suppose they all come charging after us. You have seen some of our weapons. Believe me, we have more powerful ones. If we were interested in wiping out those dullies outside, we could do it. Maybe we will, later. But if your Clann Hawk came charging up, we’d polish them off in short order.”

“Then,” John said, “our two sister clanns, the Clarks and the Fieldings, would take up the vendetta.”

“The skipper grunted. Finally, he shrugged and said heavily, “All right. And what happens when we have polished them off as well?”

John of the Hawks was obviously taken aback by the ignorance of honorable useage these clannless ones showed. He said, “Each clann has two sister clanns. We have the Clarks and the Fieldings as our sister clanns. The Clarks also have two sister clanns, the Hawks and the Davidsons. The Fieldings have two sister clanns, the Hawks and the Deweys.”

DeRudder was staring now, as well as the skipper. “What you mean is, before you’re through, the whole phylum of Aberdeen would be In on the feud, or vendetta, or whatever you call it.”

John looked at him blankly. “But, of course.”

The skipper sighed his distrust. “All right. Now, what happens if we wipe out the whole village of Aberdeen? Say we dropped a scrambler on it?”

John said reasonably, “Then our sister towns, Elgin and Gleneagles, would take their revengement for us. And their sister towns, in turn.”

Harmon closed his eyes in pain. He said in complaint, “Carrying this on, I suppose ultimately your whole confederation would be involved. Okay. Do you realize that this ship could destroy every town in your confederation, without bothering to come down to the ground?”

“And then, Mister of the Harmons, our sister confederations would take up the vendetta.”

Unbelievingly, the six of them gaped at him.

At long last, the skipper shook his head. He said, “This is fantastic. What you’re saying is that ultimately a blood feud, what starts with our killing you—in self-defense, by the way—would involve every person on this planet.”

John nodded. “You might slay as many as you say. You might slay by the thousands with your weapons that know no bann. But if you plan to land anywhere on Caledonia, sooner or later the clannsmen would take their revengement. They would charge you on their horses on the heath. They would rush you in the narrowness of the streets of their towns. They would snipe at you from a distance with their carbines. Sooner or later, men from Beyond, they would take their revengement.”

The skipper was disgusted all over again. He said, “If what you say is true, then there wouldn’t be a soul left alive on this whole world. Obviously, it’s ridiculous. How do you end one of these damned vendettas, once it starts? It seems easy enough to start. There has to be some way of stopping them.”

John said reasonably, “Of course. At the first meeting of the Dail, the sachems of the respective clanns involved meet honorably and arrange for there to be made payment of the bloodright to the kyn of the slain. Accounts are balanced. Then all are cleared of the need for vendetta.”

“All right!” DeRudder said. “We plan to remain on this planet. We’ve got some business projects in mind. So well confer with your sachem and pay up for making the mistake of, uh, dishonoring you by taking you as a hostage.

Well apologize. We’ll end the damn vendetta before it starts.”

John scowled at him. “You jest, of course. How can you approach Robert, Sachem of the Hawks? You have admitted that you have no kyn. You have no sachem to represent you. It is against the bann for such payment of bloodright to be arranged by other than the sachem of your clann.”

The skipper ran his palm over his forehead. “Mari, mother of Krishna!” he muttered. He looked at DeRudder. “Throw this dully out! Give him his sword and dagger and throw him out!”

John said levelly, “If you free me, I shall seek you out. I shall inform my clannsmen of my dishonor, and they will take their revengement. At the next Dail, I will announce my shame, and the word will go out. And at the Dails of the other confederations the word will go out to the Hawks that their bloodline has been shamed. And from one Dail to the other, the word will go out. Until nowhere on all Caledonia will you be safe from the revengement of the Hawks.”

Harmon said urgently, “Look, this is completely empty. There must be some way to turn this off. So we’re clannless men. Okay. In your towns you have clannless ones. Servants and so forth, evidently. What happens if one of them attacks a clannsman? How is the whole thing settled?”

John turned his haughty stare to the youngest of the otherworldlings. “Why, all honorable men unite and kill the shameless clannless one.”

Harmon winced. “I should’ve known better than to ask,” he muttered bitterly.

For a long time, again, the six otherworldlings contemplated him.

DeRudder said, “That warder at the gate saw him go out with us.”

No one said anything to that. The implication was obvious.

The skipper’s face was working in frustration. Finally he snapped, “Gentlemen, we have just stopped being entrepreneurs and have become explorers again.” He looked at his first officer. “Mr. DeRudder, throw this barbarian out, then prepare the ship for space.”

DeRudder looked at him. “We’re leaving?”

“Can you think of any goddamned alternative?”

Harmon snarled. “It’s one big nugget of platinum.”

“That will be all, Mr. Harmon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come along,” DeRudder growled at John of the Hawks.

His lips white again, John said, “You mean you are not going to honorably kill me?” He snatched his coup stick frorn his belt and slashed the first officer across the cheek. “I count coup!” he snapped. “Though, indeed, it is a worthless coup, since you are clannless.”

DeRudder’s face went livid. The gun came up.

“Mister DeRudder, that will be all,” the skipper’s voice bit out.

DeRudder conducted him down another corridor and finally to the compartment they had entered in the groundcar. The first officer of the Golden Hind activated the sliding door, which opened in the hull. The ramp snaked out.

He handed John of the Hawks his belt and scabbard, keeping the handgun trained on him always.

John said flatly, “The Hawks will seek you out. The Clann Hawk of every confederation on all Caledonia will hear of the shame done their bloodline and will be watching for you…

“Shut up!” DeRudder snapped. “Shut up, or I’ll bum you down right here. Then your damned Clann Hawk will have to figure out some way of crossing all space to get at me!”

John turned in dignity and walked down the ramp. He didn’t turn to look until he was over the nearest hillock. He was moderately jittery about running into some of the Bruces that had been besieging the Golden Hind, armed as he was only with claidheammor and skean and having no horse.

However, his nervousness was unnecessary. On the far side of the hill were Don of the Clarks and Dewey of the Hawks, along with a dozen more of the younger men of the phylum. All were flat on their bellies on the crest of the lull staring their amazement at the gigantic ship from space.

Don blurted, “We knew they had you, and were planning the rescue.”

“What happened to the Bruces?”

“They made off when we approached. I believe they thought us the full power of Aberdeen.”

John squatted down and watched also. “They return whence they came,” he said.

“Why did they take you?” Dewey of the Hawks demanded.

“They wanted more information about the ways of Caledonia, so that they could rob us,” John said. He continued to watch the spaceship.

“And what did you tell them?”

John shrugged. “I cozened them. I told them a good deal of nonsense, to make them feel it impossible to remain on Caledonia.”

Dewey said, “You mean you lied?”

John looked at him coldly. “They are not Hawks. It is not against the bann.”

He turned his eyes back to the Golden Hind. The spaceship shivered, then slowly, with great dignity, rose into the air.

A sigh went through the ranks of the Aberdeen youths.

When it had reached an altitude of some two hundred feet, the great craft tilted slightly upward and began to progress straight ahead and up. It gained speed in a geometric progression.

Don of the Clarks stood and, watching still with a considerable awe, as were they all, said, “They have gone.”

John, too, was looking off into the sky at the disappearing dot. “But they will return,” he said, with a wisdom beyond his years. “They, or others like them. For now we have been found, and the old days are gone forever.”