His gaze dropped to the catwalk and he saw clearly now the two creatures who lay shackled there. The same breed as those who had cheered him in the square last night, from the wharfside ships.
They were not human. Not quite. They were kin to the seal and the dolphin, to the strong perfect loveliness of a cresting wave. Their bodies were covered with short dark fur, thinning to a fine down on the face. Their features were delicately cut, handsome. They rested but did not sleep and their eyes were open, large and dark and full of intelligence.
These, he guessed, were what Jekkarans had referred to as Swimmers. He wondered what their function was, aboard ship. One was a man, the other a woman. He could not, somehow, think of them as merely male and female like beasts.
He realized that they were studying him with fixed curiosity. A small shiver ran over him. There was something uncanny about their eyes, as though they could see beyond ordinary horizons.
The woman spoke in a soft voice. “Welcome to the brotherhood of the lash.”
Her tone was friendly. Yet he sensed in it a certain reserve, a note of puzzlement.
Carse smiled at her. “Thanks.”
Again, he was conscious that he spoke the old High Martian with an accent. It was going to be a problem to explain his race, for he knew that the Khonds themselves would not make the same mistake the Jekkarans had.
The next words of the Swimmer convinced him of that. “You are not of Khondor,” she said, “though you resemble its people. What is your country?”
A man’s rough voice joined in. “Yes, what is it, stranger?”