"What about the General?" Tonio asked. "I'm not sure we can just ignore him for a week or ten days."
Zant shrugged. "We'll have to depend on the space station and Donord and Dee to keep us informed. If he starts gathering his troops, they'll know it."
Cale slapped his forehead. "Dee! I forgot about Dee. I'll never hear the end of it if she doesn't get to go on something like this."
Zant shook his head. "Sorry, Cale. She's just going to have to live with it. With all of us busy, what she's doing is too important. It won't help anyone if we make a deal with the nomads and then come back to find the General has taken over Valhalla."
Tor-Jen was delighted when they told him they needed a Din-class. "We've all been sitting up her counting our toes while you had all the fun. It's about time I got to visit that sheol-damned planet!"
They decided to use Greeners' Pride. Since she was empty, and one of her cargo holds had been partially converted to passenger accommodations, she was perfect for this mission.
Cale had Zant call Dee and Donord. Cale was right: Dee was furious at missing an adventure, but eventually she agreed that what she was doing was too important to leave.
Everyone in Valhalla Town cringed as Greener's Pride thundered down, its actinic glare briefly outshining even the sun, and even the king was impressed by the size of the huge starship. Crowds gathered to look at the big ship, some coming by train from outlying villages.
By the next morning the traders began gathering. There was no hurry. The trip to Treaty usually took almost a week. Since Greener's Pride would make it in less than half an hour, including takeoff and landing, they had plenty of time to load the ship, and to plan. Once they saw the size of this ship's cargo hold, Several traders hurried off to bring in extra wagons and carts filled with trade goods.
Tonio approached Cale and the king. "Your Majesty," he began, "I would like to suggest that you take several of our trained militia. Your Majesty might find it advisable to arrange a demonstration of their weapons and tactics. Any chief with half a brain is going to see that his people would be slaughtered in an attack against such.
"Cale, here, is planning to demonstrate the star weapons, and make certain the nomads know that the colonists have them. If your Majesty shows that Whitan, Terjo, Jesh, and Valhalla also have new weapons and tactics, the nomads might be ready to listen to reason."
The king frowned. "We usually do not expect militia to do anything but fight and die. But I remember the lesson sire Cale gave to my cavalry. By all means, pick a dozen of your best. The other kings could also benefit from such a demonstration."
Tonio bowed. "I will pick them and lead them myself, your Majesty."
The days plodded by in a never-ending parade of decisions, problems and minor crises, but finally all was in readiness. King Rajo and his entourage joined the other passengers already aboard, and Tor-Jen lifted off.
No building survived in Treaty; they had all been burned to the ground many years ago. But the bare dirt of the market area had grown over the years, and was now as large as that of Valhalla or Nirvana. A large tent had been erected along one edge of the market area to accommodate the nomad chiefs. Each of the kings had brought a smaller tent except Rajo who announced his intention to sleep aboard the ship. At the insistence of the nomads, all meetings would take place in their chiefs' tent.
Greeners' Pride's arrival sent panicked people and animals scattering in all directions, and tent walls flapping, the residents scurrying to reset them. Tor-Jen set her down well outside the blackened ruins, but no one could ignore the huge metal cylinder towering over them. Nor could they ignore the turrets that swiveled and tracked in search of a target: obvious threats, even if the watchers did not understand the specific nature of the threat.
By design, King Rajo had been the last to arrive. He joined Jorg of Terjo, Berto of Jesh, and Gralen of Whitan in Gralen's ornate tent, where they spent the rest of the day conferring, while the traders clamored to have their trade goods unloaded.
The actual talks began the next morning. Zant accompanied king Rajo at the rear of the procession to the chiefs' tent. Three of the nomads' javelins stood tied into an arch at the entrance to the tent, forcing the kings to bend their necks to pass under them, an obvious, calculated insult. Zant stepped around the spears, causing an angry muttering among the onlookers.
Inside the large tent, the chiefs of the five "camps," or tribes, of the nomads awaited them, seated cross-legged on a low dais. The youngest appeared to be in his late twenties, and was clearly excited about what was apparently his newly exalted position. The others ranged in age from early middle age to one white-haired elder. The man in the center held a laser standing upright at his side. There was no matching dais for the kings, and no chairs, forcing them to sit cross-legged on the ground. There were no introductions.
"We must tolerate the presence of these so-called 'kings'," the youngest of the chiefs complained, "but are we now to tolerate the noise and smell of the star men, too?"
"You would be wise to listen to the words of sire Zant," said King Rajo. "The future of your people depends upon it."
"Pah!" said the man with the laser. "The future of our people is the same as the past of our people. Freedom and conquest!"
"We will hear the star man," said the eldest. "It is certain we will hear nothing new from these farmers." He indicated the kings with a wave.
Zant got to his feet. He looked around mildly. "You are proud people, indeed, to so treat the kings of Jumbo. Of what are you so proud?"
The oldest of the five regarded him sourly. "We are the Free People, star man. No kings rule us. We go where we will, and do as we will. And all the kings of Jumbo fear us."
Zant laughed aloud. "Ha! The kings also fear plague, and for the same reason. You kill indiscriminately, and without cause. So, you are proud to be a plague on the face of Jumbo?" The young chief jumped to his feet, hand on his empty knife sheath, his face furious.
"As for going where you will," Zant continued, "for centuries your 'will' has been to simply plod around a great circle first laid out by your ancestors. Your path is so well worn it can be seen from space." One of the older chiefs gestured to the youngest to sit down.
"I have come here to tell you that change has come to Jumbo. The star men have returned, to help the kings to grow and develop Jumbo, to restore it to greatness. They have established a settlement in the Cursed Lands, from which they have lifted the curse.
"The people of Jumbo will no longer permit a few bands of savages to keep them penned between the river and the mountains. Your people must finally develop the courage to seek out new trails, new hunting lands. If they do not, if you persist in trying to attack the settlers, you will be destroyed. For the star men have star weapons, weapons that will wipe your warriors from the face of Jumbo. I have come to warn you of this, and to show you the weapons your young men will face.
"We have also given the kings mighty new weapons, and trained their people in their use. If you can find fifty warriors brave enough to face the farmers and townmen of the kings' militia, we will show you that there is no choice for you but to move east, to find new hunting grounds.
"Fighting is forbidden in Treaty, star man."
Zant nodded. "And that is good. I do not speak of fighting, but rather of a test with blunted weapons. The militia weapons will carry only paint to indicate wounds. Fifty of your warriors against twenty of the militia."
The youngest jumped to his feet again. "My camp will accept the challenge. We have nothing to fear from townmen and farmers." The two eldest, though, exchanged worried glances. They'd had reports from the survivors of the small scouting raid on the colony months ago. Many had died there.