Their duller ears had heard nothing, but Delgaun rose and flung open
the shutters of the window near him.
The Martian dawn, brilliant and clear, flooded the dead sea bottom with
harsh light. Beyond the black line of the canal a caravan was coming
toward Valkis through the blowing dust.
It was no ordinary caravan. Warriors rode before and behind, their
spearheads blazing in the sunrise. Jewelled trappings on the beasts, a
litter with curtains of crimson silk, barbaric splendor. Clear and thin
on the air came the wild music of pipes and the deep-throated throbbing
of drums.
Stark guessed without being told who it was that rode out of the desert
like a king.
Delgaun made a harsh sound in his throat. "It's Kynon, at last!" he
said, and swung around from the window. His eyes sparkled with some
private amusement. "Let us go and welcome the Giver of Life!"
Stark went with them, out into the crowded streets. A silence had
fallen on the town. Valkisian and barbarian alike were caught now in a
breathless excitement, pressing through the narrow ways, flowing toward
the canal.
Stark found himself beside Delgaun in the great square of the slave
market, standing on the auction block, above the heads of the throng.
The stillness, the expectancy of the crowd were uncanny....
To the measured thunder of drums and the wild skirling of desert pipes,
Kynon of Shun came into Valkis.