packed with other golden ones. Between them and the scaffold, more Imperial troops in the mottled-brown combat uniform of the Guards. Their weapons were leveled at the crowd.A furred out-of-focus head blurred across his vision.Movement, and Sten was looking again at the scaffold.Sounds: drumroll.Sounds: earshattering whistles.“Th‘ lad thae’s aboot’t’ gie hieself lopped is Sr. Tangeri,” Alex’s voice explained. “F y‘ ken th’ Cal’gata hae a whistlin’t frae speech, y‘ perhaps sense thae dinnae be fond ae th’ notion thae leader’s aboot f’r th‘ high jump. We’re i’ th‘ place th’ Cal’gata call their Gatherhome. I’s th‘ equivalent ae Parliament Or was, at any rate.”A nailer voice boomed and echoed from the battleship.“Y* noo c’n make oot th‘ words. Th’ lad wi‘ th’ pickup hae antique gear. But th‘ Cal’gata’re being tol’ thae this i‘ th’ penalty frae high treason, an‘ thae’ll be more penalties’t’ follow.”The echoes stopped, and Tangeri was turned to face the crowd.
