The Forerunner Factor Read Online Free PDF Page A

attention of the Guild; a market which was illegal but tolerated must avoid excess.
    Simsa studied the starmen as they came closer. Two of them wore what she had come to know as ship’s uniform—their winged helms glittering in the sun, which also picked out the emblems appearing on the collar and breast of their jackets. But the third of their party, though he wore a close fitting one-piece garment like their suits, as well as the boots of a star rover, was different.
    His one-piece garb was of a silver-grey, not unlike the piping on her new coat, and he had no distinguishing badge. Nor did he wear the winged helm, but a tight-fitting cap. His skin was not the dark brown of his companions, but much lighter in shade and he had dropped a step or two behind the rest of the party, who had completely ignored the would-be traders, his head turning from side to side as he went, as if he were fascinated by what he saw.
    As he came up to the ramp, Simsa studied him very carefully. It was very plain, she decided, that this was his first visit to Kuxortal and, as a newcomer, he could be the very prey the merchants would be waiting for. It was difficult, of course, to judge ages—especially of these off-world men—but she thought he was young. If that were true, then he must also be a person of some consequence or he would not be included in the party of Guild and ship’s officers. Perhaps he was not part of the crew at all—rather some traveler who had been a passenger on board. Though why he would be here if he were no trader she could not begin to guess. His lighter skin was not the only difference about him. There was an oddity in the way his eyes were set and he was taller and thinner than his companions.
    Those eyes were never still, she also noted. Then they met hers—and held. She thought she saw a kind of surprise in them. He nearly stopped, as if he thought he had met her somewhere, sometime, and wanted to call a greeting. Her tongue swept over her lips as if she could taste the sweet drink which the Old One used only on state occasions. If she could but get to him now! That spark of interest he had shown in her was an opening for bargaining.
    He must have rich resources or he could not be a star traveler. She shifted the sleeve in which hung the weight of those pieces she had retained, and was inwardly irritated that she dared not approach him now.
    Only after having glanced so long and with such interest at her, he was now going on up the ramp. Zass gave another small cry, protesting the light, the heat, and the noise of the market. Simsa watched the stranger out of sight, her mind busy making and discarding a number of hopeful plans.
    At length, she decided that she could only leave matters to chance. The starman had noticed her where she stood. If he returned to the ship with any thought of individual trade in mind, then he might come seeking her. In the meantime, there were others on board. Sooner or later, they would be given planet leave—already the cargo crane had swung out of that larger hatch and the first of the boxes was swaying down to the waiting Guild handlers.
    Simsa squatted down where she was, the mound to her back, the ramp close enough that she might have touched it—if her arm was only twice its length. She untied the shawl a little and Zass dropped thankfully down into the nest the girl so devised as she arranged the top folds to shelter the creature from the direct rays of the sun.
    The girl was far away from the main lines of the merchants that none would try to encroach upon the small piece of ground where she so established herself, and she had learned patience long ago. It might be many turns of the sand glass before those from the ship would be free, which gave her time to fasten upon a plan of her own for attracting the right kind of attention. It was hot, and many of the merchants had settled down now, their wares ready; those who were fortunate enough to have a strip of cloth awning