Skorrogan strode up to the Valtam, grounded his spear butt in salute, and inclined his head at just the proper degree. There was silence then, save for the whimpering wind. Drifting snow streamed across the field.

The Valtam spoke at last; without ceremonial greeting. It was like a deliberate slap in the face: “So you are back again.”

“Yes, sire.” Skorrogan tried to keep his voice stiff. It was difficult to do. He had no fear of death, but it was cruelly hard to bear this weight of failure. “As you know, I must regretfully report my mission unsuccessful.”

“Indeed. We receive telecasts here,” said the Valtam acidly.

“Sire, the Solarians are giving virtually unlimited aid to Cundaloa But they refused any help at all to Skontar. No credits, no technical advisers—nothing. And we can expect little trade and almost no visitors.”

“I know,” said Thordin. “And you were sent to get their help.”

“I tried, sire. Skorrogan kept his voice expressionless. He had to say something—but be forever damned if I’ll plead! “But the Solarians have an unreasonable prejudice against us, partly related to their wholly emotional bias toward Cundaloa and partly, I suppose, due to our being unlike them in so many ways.”

“So they do,” said the Valtam coldly. “But it was not great before. Surely the Mingonians, who are far less human then we, have received much good at Solarian hands. They got the same sort of help that Cundaloa will be getting and that we might have had.

“We desire nothing but good relations with the mightiest power in the Galaxy. We might have had more than that. I know, from firsthand reports, what the temper of the Commonwealth was. They were ready to help us, had we shown any cooperativeness at all. We could have rebuilt, and gone farther than that—” His voice trailed off into the keening wind.

After a moment he went on, and the fury that quivered in his voice was like a living force: “I sent you as my special delegate to get that generously offered help. You, whom I trusted, who I thought was aware of our cruel plight—Arrrgh!” He spat. “And you spent your whole time there being insulting, arrogant, boorish. You, on whom all the eyes of Sol were turned, made yourself the perfect embodiment of all the humans think worst in us. No wonder our request was refused! You’re lucky Sol didn’t declare war!”

“It may not be too late,” said Thordin. “We could send another—”

“No.” The Valtam lifted his head with the inbred iron pride of his race, the haughtiness of a culture where for all history face had been more important than life. “Skorrogan went as our accredited representative. If we repudiated him, apologized for—not for any overt act but for bad manners!—if we crawled before the Galaxy—no! It isn’t worth that. We’ll just have to do without Sol.”

The snow was blowing thicker now, and the clouds were covering the sky. A few bright stars winked forth in the clear portions. But it was cold, cold.