For an instant all Devall saw was the old priest's implacable leathery face; then he turned and caught the expression of white-faced astonishment and dismay Steber displayed.
It took several seconds for the high priest's words to sink in, and several more before Devall came to stunned realization of the implications. They want to try an Earthman, he thought numbly. By their own law. In their own court. And mete out their own punishment.
This had abruptly ceased being a mere local incident, an affair to clean up, note in the log, and forget. It was no longer a matter of simple reparations for the accidental killing of an alien.
Now, thought Devall dully, it was a matter of galactic importance. And he was the man who had to make all the decisions.
He visited Leonards that evening, after the meal. By that time everyone in the camp knew what had happened, though Devall had ordered Steber to keep quiet about the alien demand to try Leonards themselves.
The boy looked up as Devall entered his room, and managed a soggy salute.
"At ease, Lieutenant." Devall sat on the edge of Leonards' bed and squinted up at him. "Son, you're in very hot water now."
"Sir, I—"
"I know. You didn't mean to pluck leaves off the sacred bramble-bush, and you couldn't help shooting down the native who attacked you. And if this business were as simple as all that, I'd reprimand you for hotheadedness and let it go at that. But—"