“Of course.” In the Vulcanian dialect Newton said, “Is the memory of Kah so short that he does not know his brothers?”
They had had dealings with Kah before. He was lord over a third of the tribes of Vulcan and had proved a man of his word, aiding the Futuremen in many ways. But now the suspicious catlike eyes studied them, utterly without warmth or welcome.
“Kah remembers”, said the man softly. “The name of the great one is Grag — and you are the flame-haired one who leads.”
Behind him, by twos and threes, his men gathered silently at the foot of the slope. They were all the same tall snow-haired stock, wearing the white leather, bearing the sharp spears. They watched, and Newton saw that their eyes dwelt in wonder upon the towering Grag. He remembered that they had been much impressed by Grag before.
Kah said abruptly, “We have been friends and brothers, and therefore I have stayed my hand. This place is sacred and forbidden. Leave it while you still live.”
Newton answered steadily, “We cannot leave. We seek a friend who came here and was lost.”
The Vulcanian chieftain voiced a long, harsh Ah-h! and every man with him lifted his spear and shook it.
“He entered the forbidden place”, said Kah, “and he is gone.”
“Gone? You mean he’s dead?”
Kah’s hands shaped an age-old ritual gesture. Newton saw that they trembled. The Vulcanian turned and pointed to the fading Beam, which was to him a symbol of godhead.