"Is this the hospitality of the Eickarie people?" Twister countered, trying to remember everything he'd read about the local culture on the flight here two months ago. Up to now Aurek Company hadn't had much direct interaction with the natives, but he had a feeling that the next few minutes were more than going to make up for it. "To ask questions before we have even exchanged names?"

"Do not reply!" an older Eickarie along the wall warned sharply, his orange highlights shifting to red and then purple. "He speaks left-handed, seeking your name to offer in trade to the Warlord."

Twister frowned; and then it clicked. Left-handed was Eickarie slang for a lie; right-handed the corresponding term for the truth. "I do not speak left-handed," he insisted. "If there's a question I'm not permitted to answer, I'll tell you that. But I will never speak left-handed to you."

The older Eickarie sniffed. "And would not a left-handed speaker also say he would never—?"

"Peace, Ha-ran," the Eickarie seated on the table cut him off. "His question about our hospitality, at least, is right-handed." He looked back at the stormtroopers. "I am Su-mil," he said. "And you?"

"I am called Twister," Twister told him. "These are my unit-mates Shadow, Cloud, and Watchman."

He turned to look at Ha-ran. "And with respect to your tribe and its princes," he added, "if you believe we're here to make any trades with the Warlord, you haven't been paying attention to the events of your world over the past eight months. Our people have been fighting tirelessly at the side of the Eickaries, working to tear the Warlord's grip from your throat."

"Then why do you physically assault his stronghold?" Ha-ran spat. "Why not simply destroy it with him inside? Why do you risk your lives to meet him face to face?"