The race grew beyond anything Eoeun had ever imagined.
        Locked tight, they were, to their minute portion, the merest fleck, of the immense planet; heavy boots, muddy feet, they laughed, and were content to be so.
        Carcs were strange. Eoeun didn't trust them and were wary of reputed powers and quirks.
         Eoeun knew however inexplicable it might seem to all of sober and rational mind that outlanders would jump to race their carcs. They boasted of their carcs’ speed, maneuverability, weaponry, and specialties the most mundane of which were of individual design and bold quiddity.
        There were so many the leaders of the 5 families could not imagine what most of them were but they knew this: where all this avidity and jealousy and pride lay, there lay profit. Where there was so much excited and interminable discussion, there was profit. And there was no profit so worth having as that derived from contests. 
          This year as well as riders carc designers, assemblers, sellers, buyers, gamblers and collectors came by the score. Everything which could possibly be excused by the most tenuous connection to carcs and riding them was offered for sale. Out of work riders and aspirant riders offered themselves. It had become, in 5 cycles, an extravaganza.
        Sem Partoldi wanted it to be more.