Free World without Stars by Poul Anderson

traveling companion, but his special skills could be duplicated
     by Valland and Bren working in concert, whereas nobody but Urduga could fix a drive unit and Galmer was alone in knowing the
     ins and outs of a control system.
    We started to pack our gear, more or less what Valland himself had taken along. Bedrolls; plastic tent; cooking and distilling
     utensils; lyophilized food from stores; medical kit; torchguns and charges; radio, extra capacitors, hand-crankedminigenerator for reviving them; flashes, goggles, photoplates, space garments— The receiver buzzed. I thrust across the crowded
     hut and sat down. “Hello?” I shouted.
    “Me here,” Valland’s voice said, tiny out of the speaker. “Just reportin’. Things look pretty hopeful at this end. How’s with
     you?”
    I told him.
    He whistled. “Looks like the Herd’s found you out.”
    “The what?”
    “The Shkil. You remember. I’ve about decided it translates best as ‘Herd.’ What’d you say they call themselves?”
    “The Niao. With somebody else in charge that they name as Ai Chun.”
    “Um. The downdevils, I suppose. My own translation again, of an Azkashi word that means somethin’ like ‘the evil ones in the
     depths.’ Only I thought the downdevils were a set of pagan gods, as contrasted with the local religion where the galaxy’s
     the one solitary original God, beware of imitations.”
    Valland’s lightness was not matched by his tone. I realized with a jolt that this was putting him in a bad fiix. What with
     the strain of the past hours, trying to unravel Gianyi’s intent, we’d forgotten that our shipmate was among people who hated
     and feared those I was to depart with.
    And … surely the Pack had watchers by the edge of wilderness.
    “We can hardly avoid going,” I said, “but we’ll stall till you can return here.”
    “Well, I’ll try. Hang on a bit.”
    There followed some ugly noises.
    “Hugh!” I cried. “Hugh, are you there?”
    The rain had stopped, and silence grew thick in the hut. Gianyi muttered through the dwarf to his unknown masters. I sat and
     cursed.
    Finally, breathlessly, Valland said:
    “Matters peaked in an awful hurry. Ya-Kela figured treachery. He called in his goons and wanted to put me to the question,
     as I believe the polite term is. I pointed out that I could shoot my way clear. He said I’d have to sleep eventually and then
     he’d get me. I said no, I’d start right back to camp if need be, might not make it but I’d sure give him a run for his money.
     Only look, old pal, I said, let’s be reasonable. My people don’t know anything about the downdevils. Maybe they’ve been tricked.
     If so, I’ll want your help to rescue them, and between us we can strike a hefty blow. Or suppose the worst, suppose my people
     decide to collaborate with the enemy because they offer a better deal. Then I’ll be worth more to you as a hostage than a
     corpse. I got him calmed down. Now he wants to lecture me at length about how bad the downdevils are.”
    “Try to explain the idea of neutrality,” I said. “Uh, Hugh, are you sure you’ll be all right?”
    “No,” he said. “Are you sure for yourself?”
    I tried to answer, but my throat tightened up on me.
    “We’re both in a bad spot,” Valland said, “and I wouldn’t be surprised but what yours is worse. Ya-Kela swore by his God he
     won’t hurt me as long as I keep my nose clean. I won’t be a prisoner, exactly; more like a guest who isn’t permitted to leave.
     I think he’ll stand by that. I’ve already handed him my gun, and still he’s lettin’ me finish before he sequestrates the radio.
     So I ought to be safe for the time bein’. You go ahead and sound out the whosits—Ai Chun. You’ve got to. Once you’re back,
     we’ll parley.”
    I tried to imagine what it had been like, standing in a cave full of wolves and surrendering one’s only weapon on the strength
     of a promise. I couldn’t.

X
    T HE GALLEY walked