"Where the Street of the Double Moon makes juncture with the Low Canal is a tiny shop dealing in curios from the far planets. The proprietor is one Jal Thurlo. I go there for a meeting with him."
"And the reason? The reason—quickly!"
Ketrik's gaze leveled and he said slowly, "You would not expect me to tell you that. He too is a 'political'."
"You can quote the oath of the S'Relah?"
Ketrik had been waiting for that one. Now, in a low voice, he quoted the oath which not all Rajecs, very few Martians, and probably no Earthman save himself had ever heard. It was a strange and terrible oath, an oath hallowed in blood, and its implications would have made some men blanch. But Ketrik spoke it feelingly. He finished the words and looked closely at the black's face.
The man was satisfied and strangely moved, albeit slightly puzzled. He drew a tremulous breath at last.
"You have proven! You may go on to Turibek with us. We travel afoot and the way is slow, but certain."
"That is agreeable."
The leader drew Ketrik aside, out of hearing of the others. "At the rear of our caravan is a small group of Martians, prospectors from the nearby mountains—a ragged, harmless lot, whom we tolerate. I think it advisable that you travel with them. Dar Vaajo's Specials are stationed along our route."