“Do we know him?” said Larth, squinting.

“I don’t think so,” said Po. “He’s young-my age or younger, I’d say. He looks strong.”

“Very strong!” said Lara. Even from this distance, the young stranger’s brawniness was impressive. He wore a short tunic without sleeves, and Lara had never seen such arms on a man.

Po, who was small and wiry, looked at Lara sidelong and frowned. “I’m not sure I like the look of this stranger.”

“Why not?” said Lara. “He’s smiling at us.”

In fact, the young man was smiling at Lara, and Lara alone.

His name was Tarketios. Much more than that, Larth could not tell, for the stranger spoke a language which Larth did not recognize, in which each word seemed as long and convoluted as the man’s name. Understanding the deer had been easier than understanding the strange noises uttered by this man and his two companions! Even so, they seemed friendly, and the three of them presented no threat to the more numerous salt traders.

Tarketios and his two older companions were skilled metalworkers from a region some two hundred miles to the north, where the hills were rich with iron, copper, and lead. They had been on a trading journey to the south and were returning home. Just as the river path carried Larth’s people from the seashore to the hills, so another path, perpendicular to the river, traversed the long coastal plain. Because the island provided an easy place to ford the river, it was here that the two paths intersected. On this occasion, the salt traders and the metal traders happened to arrive at the island on the same day. Now they met for the first time.

The two groups made separate camps at opposite ends of the island. As a gesture of friendship, speaking with his hands, Larth invited Tarketios and the others to share the venison that night.