Kara gave a little laugh. "Still at it, I see! It's nice to know that somebody likes my looks enough to flatter me, even if I take his words with a whole kilo of salt."
"Merely objective judgment," said Salazar. As she opened the flap to her compartment, he cleared his throat and mumbled: "Kara, would you—ah—like me to drop in later?"
The gray-green eyes uncompromisingly met his. "No, Keith. This is purely a business visit; so wipe that gleam out of your eye!"
In the dim light, she seemed lovelier than he remembered her. His blood pounded. Emboldened, he said: "I've missed you so!"
Her mouth was set in a resolute line. "You should have thought of that a couple of years ago. We can be friends, but that's all. If my being here upsets you, I'll go back to Henderson."
Salazar gave a sigh and found that it was genuine. "Same old Kara, with a whim of iron!"
"Goodnight!" she said, closing the flap.
Salazar slept badly. While tossing on his bunk, he heard voices through the canvas. Marcel Frappot was whispering: "Yes, I thought I recognized the name; they were in the paper two years ago. Their son killed himself after Keith ran off with another woman. I should not have thought our distinguished professor such a Casanova."
"It is normal that a vigorous man like him should like the ladies," said Galina Bartch. "How old was this boy?"
"Seven or eight, I think. Martinov the sociologist said it was cause and effect. Firestone, that professor of psychology, claimed that this was unjust; the boy had troubles before his father fled. The Reverend Ragnarsen—the one who disappeared—pronounced it a divine judgment on our Keith. I wonder if they will take time for a little poum-poum. A divorced couple sometimes come together for une petite amourette—"
"Oh, Marcel, you gossip more than an old woman!"
"Very well; let us talk of things more agreeable. Ma petite, you are so beautiful in that light—"
"No, Marcel! Go back to bed! It is against my religion; and besides, if I got pregnant ..."
The voices died. From Galina's delicate snore, Salazar inferred that Frappot had departed unsatisfied. He is not the only one, thought the archaeologist.
As Kono and Uwangi served breakfast, Salazar observed in himself a disinclination to meet Kara's eye. With wry amusement, he detected a similar coolness between Frappot and Galina. He said:
"Ito, can you finish the five-meter lines today?"
"I am sure of it," said Kurita.
"What's that for?" asked Kara.
"A resistivity survey," said Salazar.
Kara raised a questioning eyebrow, and the archaeologist's voice took on a classroom tone. "We measure the resistance of the ground to current, in ohm-meters. Any variation can show up a buried feature, like a building foundation. Since we can't afford to dig up the whole square kilometer, we learn what we can with instruments. I've already made a magnetometer survey; so between the two we should get a good idea of the underground layout."
"You didn't use all that apparatus at Horenso," said Kara, referring to the dig on which she as a bride had accompanied her bridegroom.
Momentarily, memories checked Salazar's breath; but he spoke with cool professionalism: "I didn't, because that job was all photography, measuring, cleaning up, and consolidating. Those ruins were recent and in plain sight. Here they're buried, with nothing on the surface but fragments."
The site of Nomuru stretched across a broad, shallow vale or depression, sparsely covered with the Kukulcanian analogues of grass and herbs. Along the edges of this flat, buff-and-green expanse lay piles of thorny bushes and stunted trees, which had been uprooted and stacked to leave the ruin free of major vegetation. Beyond the western border, the little Mozii, an affluent of the Sappari, gurgled softly. Salazar told Kara:
"You can bet your brassiere old Sambyaku and his friends took a bite out of my appropriation. His excuse was that the tribal elders were outraged by our digging up the graves of their ancestors. Of course, the people who lived here when Nomuru was the capital of the Nomoruvian Empire were quite different from the present locals. But the feet that Neruu, which is in Sambyaku's chieftainship, gets its name from the ancient capital gives him a pretext to shake down the hairy aliens." He glanced at his poignette. "Damn! Those Kooks he promised me should have arrived long since."
Salazar pulled a trowel out of his boot and a file from a small sheath. While watching for the promised workers, he began sharpening the edge of the tool.
"Why sharpen a trowel?" asked Kara. "We use them to shave down the surface of a test pit."
"May I see what your students are doing with those instruments over there?"
"Sure." Salazar led Kara to the northern end of the site, where the three assistants were finishing their survey.
Galina Bartch, a buxom, blue-eyed blond with a spotty complexion beneath a floppy straw hat, had charge of a black box with four terminals, to which electric cables were attached. These four wires led to four iron pins, like oversized nails, thrust into the ground half a meter apart, along a cord stretched between two posts.
As Kara watched, the slim, elegant Marcel Frappot pulled up the rearmost pin, moved it past the other three, and thrust it into the earth a measured distance from its neighbor. At the same time, Galina deftly unscrewed the cable from its binding post, repositioned it, and shifted the remaining wires.
Ito Kurita bent over the black box, pushed a button, and made a notation on his clipboard. Kara, busily photographing the scene, began: "Keith, now could you—"
Salazar laid a hand on her arm. "Hold everything. Here comes Sambyaku himself."
Five Kooks marched out of the woods in a rigid formation. Two were armed with native muskets, while two others bore spears. An elderly Kook, his body decorated with symbols in blue and yellow, strode amid the four. Salazar muttered: "They don't use spears any more for serious fighting, but you know what sticklers for tradition they are." He raised his voice in the harsh, nonhuman Shongo tongue: "Hail, honorable Chief Sambyaku! All is well with me. Is all well with you?"
After the usual questions and responses, Salazar said: "What brings you hither, Your Honor? I observe that my promised workers have not appeared, nor has the Sappari bridge been repaired."
"I regret to inconvenience my honorable Terran friend," rasped Sambyaku. "Know that it has been decided that Intromission Day shall be observed two days hence. No workers will be available, because all will be practicing rituals and donning their formal paint."
"When will my workers be available?" asked Salazar.
"In ten or eleven days. You will understand that after Intromission Day, our younger persons are less willingly tied down to a plan of work than usual. The bridge shall be repaired when labor is available."
"I understand," said Salazar unctuously. "What cannot be cured must be endured, even if it be a bath in the Sappari. I look forward to the resumption of our work. May I invite the honorable chief to refreshment?"
"I thank the wise Terran, but my duties compel my return to Neruu. Take utmost care of your health!"
"And may Your Honor take utmost care of his health!"
"May your life be tranquil ..."
After a long exchange of good wishes, the chief stalked away. Salazar growled: "Always some damned delay!"
"What did he say?" asked Kara.
"They're taking the next sixtnight off for Intromission Day."
"You mean their springtime orgy?"
"Yep. It's their annual mating rite; actually, not an orgy but the equivalent of a mass wedding."
"I want to see that! Are you saying it's the only time of year they—uh—"