Transcriber's note:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyrighton this publication was renewed.
ANDRE NORTON
STAR BORN
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"What of our children—the second and third generations bornon this new world? They will have no memories of Terra'sgreen hills and blue seas. Will they be Terrans—orsomething else?"
—Tas Kordov, Record of the First Years
1
SHOOTING STAR
The travelers had sighted the cove from the sea—a narrow bite intothe land, the first break in the cliff wall which protected theinterior of this continent from the pounding of the ocean. And,although it was still but midafternoon, Dalgard pointed the outriggerinto the promised shelter, the dip of his steering paddle swinging inharmony with that wielded by Sssuri in the bow of their narrow,wave-riding craft.
The two voyagers were neither of the same race nor of the samespecies, yet they worked together without words, as if they hadestablished some bond which gave them a rapport transcending the needfor speech.
Dalgard Nordis was a son of the Colony; his kind had not originated onthis planet. He was not as tall nor as heavily built as those Terranoutlaw ancestors who had fled political enemies across the Galaxy toestablish a foothold on Astra, and there were other subtle differencesbetween his generation and the parent stock.
Thin and wiry, his skin was brown from the gentle toasting of thesummer sun, making the fairness of his closely cropped hair even morenoticeable. At his side was his long bow, carefully wrapped inwater-resistant flying-dragon skin, and from the belt which supportedhis short breeches of tanned duocorn hide swung a two-foot blade—halfwood-knife, half sword. To the eyes of his Terran forefathers he wouldhave presented a barbaric picture. In his own mind he was amply cladand armed for the man-journey which[6] was both his duty and hisheritage to make before he took his place as a full adult in theCouncil of Free Men.
In contrast to Dalgard's smooth skin, Sssuri was covered with a fluffypelt of rainbow-tipped gray fur. In place of the human's steel blade,he wore one of bone, barbed and ugly, as menacing as the spear nowresting in the bottom of the outrigger. And his round eyes watched thesea with the familiarity of one whose natural home was beneath thosesame waters.
The mouth of the cove was narrow, but after they negotiated it theyfound themselves in a pocket of bay, sheltered and calm, into whichtrickled a lazy stream. The gray-blue of the seashore sand was only afringe beyond which was turf and green stuff. Sssuri's nostril flapsexpanded as he tested the warm breeze, and Dalgard was busycataloguing scents as they dragged their craft ashore. They could nothave found a more perfect place for a camp site.
Once the canoe was safely beached, Sssuri picked up his spear and,without a word or backward glance, waded out into the sea,disappearing into the depths, while his companion set about his shareof camp tasks. It was still early in the su