“No more war! No more war between us!”
So did the cup of blood and brotherhood pass from chief to chief on the field and the ranks of the Dark Ones and the Plainsmen were made one by the ritual so that never again might man of one raise lance against man of the other.
Fors sank down upon a flat-topped rock. The strength which had upheld him drained away. He was very tired and the excitement beyond no longer had anything to do with him. He had no eyes for the melting of the stiff tribal lines and the mingling of clan and people.
“This is but a beginning!” He identified the quick eager voice of Marphy and looked around slowly, almost sullenly.
The Plainsman was talking to Jarl, gesturing, his eyes bright. But the Star Captain was his usual calm contained self.
“A beginning, yes, Marphy. But we still have much to master. If I may see those northern records of yours. We of the Star House have not penetrated that far—”
“Of course. And—” Marphy seemed hesitant before he plunged into his counter request—“that cage of rats. I have had it brought into my tent. There are three still alive and from them we may learn—”
Fors shivered. He had no desire to see those captives.
“You claim them as your spoil of war?”
Marphy laughed. “That I shall do. And other spoil beside the vermin shall we ask for—a greater gift from you. This fellow rover of yours—”