He waited in their path, watching them come. He was nearly the color of the golden grass: golden skin, golden mane. Big. Armed with a great curved sword.

Kaywerbrimmis walked to meet the giant. Valavirgillin set the cruiser following him like a friendly ridebeast.

Distance put strange twists in the trade dialect. Kaywerbrimmis had tried to teach Vala some of the variations in pronunciation, new words and altered meanings. She listened now, trying to make out what Kay was saying.

“We come in peace… intend to trade… Farsight Trading… rishathra?”

The giant’s eyes flicked back and forth while Kay talked. Back and forth between their jaws, Forn and Vala and Kay and Barok. The giant was amused.

His face was hairier than any Machine Person’s! Pretty Forn’s jawline fringe of beard just growing, just long enough to take a curl at the corners. Vala’s was turning elegantly white, two points at the chin. Other hominids were too often distracted by Machine People beards, especially on the women.

The giant waited out Kay’s chattering, then strode past him and took a seat on the cruiser’s running board. He leaned against the payload shell and immediately jerked away from the hot metal. Recovered his dignity and waved the cruiser forward.

Big Barok held his post above the giant. Forn climbed up beside her father. She was tall, too, but the giant made them both took stunted.

Kaywerbrimmis asked, “Your camp, that way?”

The giant’s dialect was less comprehensible. “Yes. Come. You want shelter. We want warriors.”

“How do you practice rishathra?” It was the first thing any trader would want to know, and any beta male, too, if these were like Grass Giants elsewhere.

The giant said, “Come quick, else learn too much of rishathra.”

“What?”

“Vampires.”

Forn’s eyes widened. “That smell!”