Shallra was the best wife he had ever had, and Grady had lived on several worlds. She spoke little, and when she did, it was direct and to the point. She was affectionate, but, like most Kya, undemonstrative. She had been brought up to consider that males were equals, but that certain male privileges, such as the lodge magics and the use of horn pipes, were inviolable. Grady had lived on one world where men were considered very much superior to women, and had found that the attitudes which result are not as pleasant as they might seem. And lastly, Shallra was probably the best cook on Pru'ut, if not the best on several worlds. The Kya generally liked and trusted Grady, and, after two years, he was almost one of them. Standing on the agency porch, in the weak sunlight, he seemed to have acquired the same yellowish skin and lean face, and he was dressed in the same loose kilt. Shallra came out to stand beside him, and they looked like any other Kya. "The sun," she said gravely. "There will be a dance tonight." Grady nodded. "Like to see it," he said. "The dance, I mean." "It is for men," Shallra said. "Koor," she pointed at the sun, "is a god belonging to men. The women dance when the sky clears in the night." "Men's dance, eh?" Grady said, sucking on his pipe. "You're probably right about it being all right for me to go. But I'd better check with the Chief anyway." He started down the log-paved walk, toward the Chief's house on the other side of the village. He could see it clearly at the far end of the long, muddy street, but it was necessary to walk along a twisting detour, rather than directly toward it. There was an acre of ground in the center of the village, filled with crumbling, empty huts, and no Kya walked through this ground. It belonged to Sa'ahah, whose ghost walked in a wide circle around the hut where a jealous rival had speared him in his sleep. The house was the usual Kya affair, on tall stilts, with painted signs on its facade, but much more elaborate as befitted the Chief's position. He was Anla-Who-Speaks-for-the-Ancestors. There were several other kinds of chief, but it was Anla whom Grady consulted before trying anything in the least unusual. Anla sat on his porch now, regarding the sun through slitted eyes. Grady greeted him in proper form, and Anla returned the greeting, rising and bowing. "Is there any reason why this person may not attend the dance of Koor with his brothers on this night?" Grady asked. Anla thoughtfully pulled his lower lip; then, nodding, he said, "No, there is no reason not to."