“We come in peace,” said the Kur.

“How many gather?” pressed Blue Tooth.

About his neck, from a fine, golden chain, pierced, hung the tooth of a Hunjer whale, dyed blue.

“As many as the stones of the beaches,” said the Kur “as many as the needles on the needle trees.”

“What do you want?” called one of the men from the field.

“We come in peace,” said the Kur.

“They do not have white fur,” said I to Ivar Forkbeard, standing now beside me. “It is not likely that they come from the country of snows.”

“Of course not,” said the Forkbeard.

“Should this information not be brought to the attention of Svein Blue Tooth?” I asked.

“Blue Tooth is no fool,” said the Forkbeard. “There is not a man here who believes Kurii to gather in the country of snows. There is not enough game to support many in such a place.’

“Then how far would they be away?” I asked.

“It is not known,” said the Forkbeard.

“You know us, unfortunately,” said the Kur, to the assembly, “only by our outcasts, wretches driven from our caves, unfit for the gentilities of civilization, by our diseased and our misfits and our insane, by those who, in spite of our efforts and our kindness, did not manage to learn our ways of peace and harmony.”

The men of Torvaldsland seemed stunned.

I looked at the great axes in the hands of the two Kurii who accompanied the speaker.

“Too often have we met in war and killing,” said the speaker. “But, in this, you, too, are much to blame. You have, cruelly, and without compunction, hunted us and, when we sought comradeship with you as brothers, as fellow rational creatures, you have sought to slay us.”

“Kill them,” muttered more than one man. “They are Kurrii.”

“Even now,” said the Kur, the skin drawing back from its fangs, “there are those among you who wish our death, who urge our destruction.”

The men were silent. The Kur had heard and understood their speech, though he stood far from us, and above us, on the platform of the assembly, that platform cut into the small, sloping hill over the assembly field.I admired the acuteness of its hearing.

Again the skin drew back from its fangs. I wondered if this were an attempt to simulate a human smile. “It is in friendship that we come.” It looked about. “We are a simple, peaceful folk,” it said, “interested in the pursuit of agriculture.

Svein Blue Tooth threw back his head and roared with laughter. I regarded him then as a brave man. Beside me, Ivar Forkbeard, too, laughed, and then others. I wondered if the stomach or stomachs of the Kurii could digest vegetable food.

The assembly broke into laughter. It filled the field.The Kur did not seem angry at the laughter. I wondered if it understood laughter. To the Kur it might be only a human noise, as meaningless to him as the cries of whales to us.

“You are amused,” it said.

The Kurii, then, had some understanding of laugher Its own lips then drew back, revealing the fangs. I then understood this clearly as a smile.

That the Kurii possessed a sense of humor did not much reassure me as to their nature. I wondered rather at what sort of situations it would take as its object. The cat, if rational, might find amusement in the twitching and trembling of the mouse which it is destroying, particle by particle. That a species laughs bespeaks its intelligence, its capacity to reason, not its goodness, not its harrnlessness. Like a knife; reason is innocent; like a knife, its application is a function of the hand that grasps it, the energies and will which drive it.

“We were not always simple farmers,” said the Kur. It opened its mouth, that horrid orifice, lined with its double rows of white, heavy, curved fangs. “No,” it said, “once we were hunters, and our bodies still bear, as reminders, the stains of our cruel past.” It dropped its head. “We are by these,” it said, and then it lifted its right paw, suddenly exposing the claws, “and these, reminded that we must be resolute in our attempts to overcome a sometimes recalcitrant nature.” Then it regarded the assembly. “But you must not hold our past against us. What is important is the present. What is important is not what we were, but what we are, what we are striving to become. We now wish only to be simple farmers, tilling the soil and leading lives of rustic tranquility.”

The men of Torvaldsland looked at one another.

“How many of you have gathered?” asked Svein Blue Tooth again.

“As many,” said the Kur, “as the stones on the beaches, as many as the needles on the needle trees.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

The Kur turned to the assembly. “It is our wish to traverse your country in amarch southward.”

“It would be madness,” said the Forkbeard to me, “to permit large numbers of Kurii into our lands.”

“We seek empty lands to the south, to farm,” said the Kur. “We will take only as much of your land as the width of our march, and for only as long as it takes to pass.

“Your request seems reasonable,” said Svein Blue Tooth. “We shall deliberate.”

The Kur stepped back with the other Kurii. They spoke together in one of the languages of the Kurii, for there are, I understood, in the steel worlds, nations and races of such beasts. I could hear little of what they said. I could detect, however, that it more resembled the snarls and growling of larls than the converse of rational creatures.

“What crop,” asked Ivar Forkbeard, who wore a hood, of the platform, “do the Kurii most favor in their agricultural pursuits?”

I saw the ears of the Kur lie swiftly back against its head. Then it relaxed. Its lips drew back from its fangs. “Sa-Tarna” it said.

The men in the field grunted their understanding. This was the staple crop in Torvaldsland. It was a likely answer.

Ivar then spoke swiftly to one of his men.

“What will you pay us to cross our land?” asked one of the free men of Torvaldsland.

“Let us negotiate such fees,” said the beast, “when such negotiations are apt.

It then stepped back.

Various free men then rose to address the assembly. Some spoke for granting the permission to the Kurii for their march, many against it.Finally, it was decided that it was indeed germane to the decision to understand what the Kurii would offer to obtain this permission.

I, in this time, now came to understand that Torvaldsland stood, in effect, as a wall between the Kurii and the more southern regions of Gor. The Kur, moreover, tends to be an inveterate land animal. They neither swim well nor enjoy the water. They are uneasy on ships. Moreover, they knew little of the craftsmanship of building a seaworthy ship. That now, suddenly, large numbers of Kuru were conjoined, and intent upon a march southward could not be a coincidence in the wars of such beasts with Priest-Kings. I supposed it quite probable this was, in effect, a probe, and yet one within the laws of the Priest-Kings. It was Gorean Kurii that were clearly, substantially, involved. They carried primitive weapons. They did not even use a translator. In the laws of Priest-Kings it was up to such species, those of Kurii and men, to resolve their differences in their own way. I had little doubt but what the Kurii, perhaps organized by Kurii trom the steel worlds, were to begin a march in Torvaldsland, whichmight extend, in a generation to the southern pole of Gor. The Kurii were now ready to reveal themselves. At last they were ready to march. If they were successful, I had little doubt that the invasion from space, in its full power, would follow. In their mercy or disinterest, Priest-Kings had spared many Kurii who had been shipwrecked, or shot down, ormarooned on Gor. These beasts, over the centuries grown numerous and strong, might now be directed by the Kurii of the steel worlds. Doubtless they had been in contact with them. I expected the speaker himself was of the steel shipspainfully taught Gorean. The Kurii native to Gor, or which had been permitted to survive and settle on Gor, would surely not be likely to have this facility. They and men seldommet, save to kill one another.