Nothing else happens.
The tribesmen murmur among themselves and the warrior looks pleased.
A second man picks up another stone. This one strikes a different Plood in the chest.
Again, nothing happens. The ring holds. The Plood neither retreat nor attack.
I don't like the expressions spreading through the crowd.
A few minutes ago the tribesmen were cautious. Now they're studying the Plood differently. Calculating and maybe reconsidering.
The chiefs notice it too. Their argument begins to fade. One by one they turn their attention toward the circle of small black creatures protecting us.
And suddenly I understand the danger. The uncertainty was keeping us alive. The tribes didn't know what the Plood would do. Now they're starting to think they know.
I stare at the tightening ring of tribesmen and force myself to think. Standing here and hoping for a miracle won't accomplish anything. The Plood have bought us a little time, but that's all they've done.
Beyond their circle, every chief is studying us with the same hungry calculation. They're arguing because they haven't yet agreed on how to divide the prize.
And the prize is us.
My heart is hammering hard enough to make my chest hurt, but I step forward anyway. The movement immediately drawsattention. Several swords lift. A few warriors shift their footing. The chiefs stop arguing long enough to look at me, and although the crowd doesn't become quiet, the noise settles into something more focused.
I raise both hands slowly. "Chiefs," I call out in the caveman tongue. "Listen to me."
A few exchange amused looks. One laughs outright. Another folds his arms and waits to hear what sort of foolishness a human female might say. None of them leave, and none of them attack, so I take that as encouragement and keep going.
"Morgan. Borok tribe."
I touch my chest, then gesture toward Beth, Quinn and Abigail. "Women from sky. Guests on Xren."
Finding the words takes effort. I speak the language well enough to survive, but this isn't the sort of conversation I've ever practiced. "You don't attack guests. Guests need protection."
The chiefs listen with varying degrees of patience. One scratches his beard. Another watches Beth so intently that I want to throw something at him. A third appears more interested in the Plood than in anything I have to say. Still, they're listening, and that's more than I expected.
"We come in peace," I continue. "We don't steal from tribes. We don't fight tribes."
For a moment I think I see uncertainty in a few faces. Then one of the chiefs says something that makes the warriors behind him grin. I only catch part of it, but I don't need the whole sentence to understand. Marriage. Children. Women. The usual things.
My stomach tightens. I point around the circle of warriors. "Five tribes." Then I point toward the four girls. "Four women."
Several men begin counting immediately. One chief follows my gesture and frowns. "Five tribes. Four women. Who gets none?"
That question succeeds better than anything else I've said. The chiefs immediately begin arguing among themselves again. One points at Abigail. Another jabs a finger toward Quinn. A third starts shouting over both of them. The discussion grows louder by the second, and for a brief moment I feel a flicker of hope. They aren't looking at us anymore. They're looking at each other.
Then an older chief steps forward and silences the others with a sharp gesture. "We will decide." The certainty in his voice sends a chill through me. He isn't debating whether they'll take the women. He's debating how they'll divide them afterward.
I nod slowly and decide to play the strongest card I have. "Chief Korr'ax decides, too."
That gets a reaction. The name moves through the crowd like a ripple through water. Warriors glance at one another. Several chiefs exchange looks. One spits into the dirt and mutters something under his breath.
They know exactly who Chief Korr'ax is. The Borok are large, organized and powerful. Even tribes that hate them respect them.
I take a step forward before the moment can disappear. "Chief Korr'ax protects women. These women belong under Borok protection. If you attack them, Borok tribe comes."
For several seconds nobody speaks. The chiefs are measuring it against whatever they think they'll gain.
Then the oldest chief points toward the girls. "The women are here."
