"He is very fat—"
"Nay, nay, not his physical characteristics but his plans and motivations."
"As to that, I can only tell you what I have guessed from many small bits of information and rumor. He is what we Terrans used to call a 'natalist,' convinced that Terrans should multiply as fast as nature allows. Since Terra has no space for any more people, Terrans should conquer and exploit other planets to give the species room for indefinite expansion."
"He will not find the conquest of our world easy," said Seisen with a flick of his forked tongue.
"Do you foresee an interspecies war?" asked Salazar with a sinking feeling. "On Terra, international relations have been brought under fair control. We have not had a real war for a century. How do you Kukulcanians propose to ward off the attacks of Dumfries's followers and others of that kind?"
"Our governments—at least, all the more civilized ones in this hemisphere—worry about this. For centuries we have discouraged inventive progress in weapons. Now, as you see, our governments reward the human being who can design a gun to shoot faster. We do not yet have your zappers, but if superstitious objections to electrical machinery can be overcome, we shall doubtless attain ray weapons, too. If the situation demands, we shall eventually get to atomic explosives, of which Terrans have told us."
"Many Terrans would be glad to leave well enough alone," said Salazar, "even if it meant curbing their drive to reproduce."
"Some, perhaps, but with a species as variable as yours, 'some' never means 'all'. The rest, by and large, are still motivated by the instincts and urges that drove you millions of years ago, when your forebears, then on a level with the larger members of our kusi order, began to tame fire and chip stones for tools. So I look forward with foreboding. Ask any of the peoples conquered during the great European expansion, from years fifteen hundred to nineteen hundred of your common era, such as the natives of the American continents.
"Another matter. Besides Terrans' obvious motivations for wishing to snatch our world from us—tribal loyalty, personal gain, and lust for power—there is another, which I understand not. To many Terrans the mere sight of a human being provokes revulsion and horror. They call us by the term 'repti',' as if a repti' were a peculiarly loathsome creature. I am told that they use it to one another as a term of opprobrium. Why is this? What is a repti'?"
Salazar said: "The word is 'reptile'. The Terran animal kingdom includes a class called Reptilia. Some reptiles, called 'snakes,' resemble your boshiya but without legs, and some of these snakes are venomous. Hence, the species evolved a susceptibility as infants to a phobia against snakes. They likewise easily develop phobias against other things that in primitive times were sources of danger: high places, dark enclosures, torrents, thunderstorms, and strangers.
"Not all reptiles are dangerous; in fact, only a small fraction of the kinds of snakes are venomous. But our primitive ancestors made no fine distinctions amongst them, and fear of snakes is often extended to other reptiles. Since your species resembles Terran reptiles, they inherit some of that irrational fear."
"Thank you," said Seisen. "You have clarified a mystery. I need not belabor my point about Terrans' primitive minds."
Salazar rose stiffly. "And I thank you, honorable sir. I must return to my base to prepare defenses."
Seisen also rose. "I regret that I could not advise you more precisely." Salazar noted that the philosopher now used the forms due a social equal. "That is the fault not of my failing mental powers but of the amorphous nature of the problem. May your health remain good, and forget not to send me a copy of your thesis!"
Back at camp, as the sun sank in golden and crimson glory, Salazar returned. He had picked up the armful of canes he had dropped the day before. Choku asked:
"Honorable boss, what was the upshot? Stay we or flee we?"
"I could not get a firm answer. Seisen would like all Terrans off the planet. Since he cannot bring that about, he is not unhappy to see us shooting each other. It means that our army will be weaker if war breaks about between your species and mine."
"That is a most unwelcome thought, sir. I enjoy Terrans, ever up to something new and interesting. One never knows what crazy thing they will do next."
"Perhaps, but that solves our problem not. Has there been any sign of Cantemir? Our time was up an hour ago."
"Nay, sir; no sign."
"Perhaps he was bluffing, though I should not care to wager my life on the chance. Anyway, it is too late to set out for Amoen tonight. We must go wait and watch. With two guns, we should be a match for him. How good are you with the rifle?"
"Terran guns are awkward for us human beings, being designed to fit your arms and shoulders. But I can hit an alien-sized target with one nine times out of ten at fifty rokuu."
Not having completely mastered Kukulcanian measures, Salazar was not sure what degree of accuracy those words implied, but they sounded impressive. "Very well, you shall take the first watch. There is no cover nearby for him to sneak up on us—except the nanshins, and they have their own security system."
The next morning there was still no sign of Cantemir. Salazar's confidence mounted; it must have been a bluff, after all. He should, of course, keep his guard up.
Midmorning saw Salazar sitting before his tent, holding a large clasp knife and carving whistles out of lengths of cane. On his lap lay a copy of Vladovich's Elements of Physics, open to the section on sound. He carved whistles of various lengths. As he finished each, he blew it at the phonometer and noted the frequency recorded by the instrument. He wrote the figure on a tag, attached the tag to the whistle, and compared the length of the whistle with that given on the table in Vladovich for a vibrating air column of that frequency, corrected for barometric pressure.
At last he blew a faint, shrill toot on whistle number 23, which sounded rather like the sounds made by the kusis.
"Mr. Sarasara!" said Choku. "Look about you!"
Salazar was startled to discover that he was sitting in a semicircle of nine kusis, staring up. As he looked up, they thrust out their forelimbs in begging gestures.
"They want mittas," said Choku. "Shall I give?"
"Get one and throw it as far as you can."
Choku ducked into the tent, came out with a mitta nut, and threw. But missile throwing was not a native Kukulcanian skill—perhaps, Terran biologists speculated, because their fingers ended in claws. The nut flew up and landed in Salazar's lap.
At once a rush of kusis swarmed up Salazar's trouser legs in a scramble for the nut. Their talons pierced the fabric and the skin beneath it. The two who reached his lap first both tried to grab the nut and ended by clawing and biting each other.
With thirty-odd kilos of kusi clinging to him and more contesting for a hold, Salazar struggled to his feet, knocking off one scaly tormentor after another and yelling:
"Get out, you little sons of bitches!"
Choku dashed forward, shouting "Katai! Katai!" With one clawed reptilian foot doubled into a fist, he kicked a kusi aside. Another he picked up and threw a dozen meters away.
As Salazar rose, the mitta nut fell to the ground. A kusi snatched it and ran. All the others abandoned Salazar to run after it; the whole troop vanished into the nanshins.
"Whew!" said Salazar. "You are better at throwing kusis, Choku, than at throwing nuts. Did they get aught else?"
"I think not, sir. But you bleed! You must needs care for your wounds."
"You bleed, also."
"The animal I kicked snapped at me. It is naught. But you aliens are such delicate creatures that you had better nurse your injuries at once."
"Mere scratches, but you are right."