And
the human is not always the superior being. I might pass, among the
Dry-towners and the relatively stupid humanoid _chaks_, for another
Dry-towner. But Rakhal had cautioned me I could not pass among nonhumans
for native Wolfan, and warned me against trying.
Nevertheless, I accompanied Kyral, carrying the box which had cost about
a week's pay in the Terran Zone and was worth a small fortune in the
Dry-towns.
Canarsa seemed, inside the gates, like any other town. The houses were
round, beehive fashion, and the streets totally empty. Just inside the
gates a hooded figure greeted us, and gestured us by signs to follow
him. He was covered from head to foot with some coarse and shiny fiber
woven into stuff that looked like sacking.
But under the thick hooding was horror. It slithered and it had nothing
like a recognizable human shape or walk, and I felt the primeval ape in
me cowering and gibbering in a corner of my brain. Kyral muttered, close
to my ear, "No outsider is ever allowed to look on the Silent Ones in
their real form.
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