Malovar pointed with his sword—at Roy Larkin. Elders seized the man, lifted him, carried him to the altar.
The sword came up.
"NO!" A single burst of involuntary sound came from the lips of the trader. He leaped forward. "NO!"
Malovar held the sword, looked at him. The Martian looked a little sad.
"I know he is your son, my friend, but he came here to cheat and to rob. Men under his direction have killed."
"But—"
"The laws of my people are explicit," Malovar continued. "Nor will I stay my hand for the sake of friendship at the time of the testing."
"But—" Larkin still protested. Here was a bond, an obligation, that went beyond friendship.
"I am sorry," Malovar said gently. His tone of voice and the expression on his face said he was really sorry. But they also said he had no intention of holding his hand from striking.
Boyd Larkin moved again. He was not quite sure why he did what he did and he was utterly unsure as to what the result would be, but in the face of the rising sword, he lifted his son from the altar.