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revealed for what they really are - criminal acts sanctioned by the

sand-burrowers who wish to destroy our friendship with those who give

us aid and support?!" His booming voice cut through the surrounding

noise, bringing a sudden hush.

Mr Snow closed his eyes, raised his face briefly to the sky then said

the first thing that came into his head. 'The Chosen do not fear the

truth! They are not here because they confront an enemy the warriors

of the D'troit have yet to face! At this moment, as I speak, they

battle against the iron-snakes of the Federation!" The bull-ring

erupted with thunderous cheers. Prime-Cut looked as if he was about to

bust a blood-vessel, but it was all. over and he knew it. He stepped

forward, teeth bared, and came nose to nose with Mr Snow. 'You lying

sonofabitch!" 'Easy for you to say,' chuckled Mr Snow. 'But can you

prove it?"

Before Prime-Cut could frame a reply, several of the She-Kargo

wordsmiths hoisted their hero onto their shoulders and carried him in

triumph from the ring.

In the afternoon, with the help of the M'Waukee, who provided them with

a suitable disguise, a group claiming to represent an important number

of C'Natti trade delegations sought an audience with Mr Snow.

Essentially, what they had to say was this: they were greatly concerned

that the actions of certain members of the She-Kargo might jeopardize

the existing trading arrangements (and they left Mr Snow in no doubt as

to who they were referring to) but - and it was an important proviso

they were not prepared to lend their support to 'those elements who

were actively contemplating a joint action with the Iron Master against

certain of the Plain folk'.

Having stated their position, the disguised spokesmen proceeded to ask

questions. Did the She-Kargo have any plans to resist a surprise

attack by a rival faction? If so, they were prepared to help in any

way they could.

Once again, they did not name names, but there was no doubt who the

C'Natti spokesmen were referring to.

Their veiled expressions of solidarity could well have been genuine but

Mr Snow could not be sure. They might have been sent by the D'Troit in

the hope of discovering what, if anything, the She-Kargo had up their

sleeve.

Framing his reply as carefully as he could to avoid spurning what might

be a bonafide offer, Mr Snow said: 'There is no plan. We have put our

faith in Talisman. Let those who believe in him stand by us. The

She-Kargo?will never be the first to draw sharp iron against their

brothers.

'The last thing we wish to do is divide the Plainfolk, especially now

when The Chosen are amongst us. AH of us must put an end to our

ancient blood-feuds. We must cleanse our hearts and minds, sweep away

our petty rivalries and rally to Talisman's bright banner. If you

believe that He is our Saviour, strike down those who insult His Name

by giving aid to our enemies."

'Yes, but when and where do you expect all this to happen?" enquired

one of the C'Natti wordsmiths.

Mr Snow threw up his hands. 'Who can fathom the workings of poisonous

hearts? If betrayers revealed their hand treachery would never

flourish as richly as it does today! It is the assassin who chooses

the place and the hour, not his victim! Look about you! Danger

surrounds us! Go and prepare yourselves! And be vigilant!'

Nitwits...

Mr Snow spent the remaining daylight hours in head-to-heads with the

leaders of friendly delegations, securing pledges of support and a firm

promise to attend a midnight council of war in the depths of the wood

which was now ringed by sentinels posted by the She-Kargo. All this

should have left the M'Call delegation in an upbeat mood but their

earlier exuberance had been dampened by the unprecedented number of

clashes between groups of hot-heads from the rival bloodlines.

The use of weapons in these encounters - which by tradition were

strictly forbidden - was a sign that the fragile truce governing these

occasions was under threat.

Despite the efforts of the line-capos and c