Coopuh of Clan Coopuh walked through the gather-

ing, watching Niko conduct himself with far more respect for the clansfolk than any other trader. But it was clear that some dissatisfaction disturbed him. He had made a few trades for small carvings, but always his eyes roamed over the edges of the small crowd, looking for new faces bearing . . . what? Coopuh came up to the young Ehleen, proud of the fine work which his clan had brought to trade.

“Nikomedes, do not our artists produce things of great beauty?”

“Indeed, Clan Leader. I think perhaps you have asked your folk to bring their finest because of the incident Wessli and I shared. The traders my father deals with never bring pieces of such a quality.” Coopuh laughed. “Perhaps they sold what they had bought elsewhere, or kept the choicest pieces for themselves. But you are displeased in some way. What is it?”

“Are you reading my mind?”

“No, Nikomedes. Among us, it is a crass lack of manners to invade anyone that way without permission. No, I need no mindspeaking to read your face.” Niko looked at the man his stern features opaque to his empathy. They trust me without reservation, Niko thought, but who knows how rapidly their affections change? But I could never steal one. I’ll have to ask for it.

“There is an object of Horseclans make that no one has brought to trade. I seek a Horseclans saber. I’ll be generous for it. I have extra silver just for that one trade.”

The gist of the conversation, impossible not to overhear, spread through the clanfolk. Talk ceased. The weapons of the Horseclans were beyond price. None had ever been sold beyond the Confederation of Clans; none had ever been seen in the hands of the city folk.

“You ask too much!” Coopuh said, his voice rising in a controlled shout. “We have cleaved Ehleenee blades before, but never has the steel of the clans shattered in battle. No, my new Ehleen friend. You shall take no Horseclans weapons with you to Santalu!” Instantly, the warmth of the past week was frozen in the wave of hostility that seemed no less than when he had first arrived. But there was no backing down now.

“Clan Leader, surely you cannot believe that I, who rescued your son, could ever lift a sword against Clan Coopuh, or any of the clans! My blood is Ehleen, but my honor is my own! And the lessons of my experiences here, as well!”

“Just so. We have learned that we cannot rely upon the honor of the Ehleen. And who knows what twisted lessons your people may have learned from Kehnooryos Ehlas, or a score of other battles where Ehleenee fell to fertilize the riches of the prairie? You may complete your trading, Nikomedes. Then you must depart, before thoughts of theft enter your head, if they have not already.”

Niko looked around him at the universal disapproval. The pleasant spirit which had infused the gathering was gone, and with it, any chance to fulfill his oath.

A prairiecat growled behind them. Coopuh and Niko turned to see Wessli come forward, with Stripes at his side.

“Father,” Wessli said, “Nikomedes proved himself to me in a duel to the death. Did we not discuss his brotherhood with the clan the night of our return?” “That means nothing. You know full well that we decided not to—”

“My friend gave a sworn oath to his father and clan at Santalu. Here is an honorable way for him to fulfill it, with a worthy exchange. The steel he brings is well wrought. His silver is pure.”

Coopuh became more obstinate the more he was pushed. “No, by Sun and Wind, I have made my decision! The swords of the Horseclans will never be sold!”

“I won’t be dishonored by my war brother’s failure!” Wessli shouted. He tugged at his belt, and the sword he had brought on the hunting trip fell into his hands. “Here, Niko! This is a gift! A free gift of Wessli of Coopuh!”

Niko caught it, a scabbard of intricately tooled leather, bound with brass. The saber had a complex cup to protect the hand, bands of twisted wire hammered into a curved teardrop of steel. A beautiful, and undoubtedly old, weapon.

“Return that at once,” Coopuh said, and stepped forward.

With a growl, the prairiecat was there. “No, Coopuh,” the feline thought came. “Wessli named him war brother, gifted him with weapons. The two-legs did what this cat should have done, but didn’t. Am I not Wessli’s war brother? Then I cannot let you retrieve what is not yours, though you expel me from Clan Coopuh.”

The great beast sat, twitching his tail, staring into Coopuh’s eyes. Niko knew that the man and the beast must be exchanging thoughts, but in the silence, straining to perceive this mystery, unable to take his eyes off the animal, he could not discern a single interior clue to the debate which was taking place between the two strong wills.

At long last the clan leader, Coopuh of Clan Coopuh, turned to Niko and said, “So be it.” Then he left the gathering.

Wessli came to Niko with a big smile. “He’ll get over it,” Wessli said. “Sometimes it’s necessary to make new traditions.”

“This is a costly thing,” Niko said. “You must let me

give you—”

“No, nothing!” There was a flash of anger. “Niko, that sword is a gift. You saved my life. How can I measure my life against a piece of metal, and deny it to you?”

‘But you must have a sword to defend the clans!” Niko cried. “You told me that yourself!”

His war brother grinned. “I have an axe, too. Don’t worry about me, Niko. I can always earn another sword. But, just between you and me, how many chances will you have to do that?”

Niko stepped back, and bowed. “Thank you, Wessli. I promise you that I will never be parted from this sword, and that when I die, it shall be returned to the Horseclans.” He strapped it around his waist. The length of it was just right and to wear it put a special spring in his step. He grinned back at Wessli, and then a clanswoman called his name to inquire about a heavy silver buckle. With a confident air, Nikomedes the Trader took the bone carving she offered into his hands, and began to haggle.

There was no danger on the return to the river. A huge dark-striped prairiecat padding along at his side, Niko rode, leading his pack animal, upon which were heaped his treasures and his prize. There was no need to hunt, for the feline carried kills back every night. Niko talked out loud to it, but there was no telling whether the animal understood him or not. Days passed uneventfully until at last the Great River appeared. The adventure in the plains was done. Niko dismounted and reached out to scratch the huge cat’s ears, which always provoked a loud rumbling purr.

“Stripes, I’ve been thinking about our friend. He’s my war brother, as much as I’m his. I can’t let a war brother face the life you choose to lead without a weapon. So here, take this.” He reached to his waist and untied a pouch of coins. “Take this back to the clan, and'when you next meet a swordsmith who can do work as good as this,” he said, patting the saber at his hip, “buy it for him, and give it as a gift. Do you understand?” He bent down and held the fur of the great cat’s cheeks in his hands. “Can you understand?”

Stripes leaned back and gave a roar which almost knocked Niko off his feet. Then he stood up, scraped his tongue over the boy’s face, picked up the pouch in his teeth, and turned to trot off to the west. His heavy footsteps and the clink of gold disappeared into the brush.

Less than a mile to the south loomed the rock outcropping to which the ferries sailed. Niko waited only two days until the next arrived. Three other men showed up. They all eyed the exotic blade hanging from the boy’s belt, and left him alone.

A singer stopped with half a chord unstrummed as Nikomedes walked into the reception hall. Although he had only been gone for a fortnight, he was completely transformed. Where once he had been occasionally interesting, now he was fascinating; conversations stopped as the fashionable courtiers discovered his presence, from which they could not pull away their gaze. The cheery insolence was gone, replaced by a quiet, careful attention to everything that swirled around him. His skin, freshly burnished by the sun and wind, glowed with a quality of health he had never before known. A servant carried an enormous bundle behind him, set it down in the center of the floor, and departed. All eyes were fixed upon him, but the most suspicious of those were Ugarios’.