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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:49:25 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:49:25 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22426-8.txt b/22426-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2f321a --- /dev/null +++ b/22426-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2936 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Players, by Everett B. Cole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Players + +Author: Everett B. Cole + +Illustrator: Solo + +Release Date: August 29, 2007 [EBook #22426] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLAYERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE + PLAYERS + + BY EVERETT B. COLE + + + _A Playboy is someone with power, too much time + on his hands, and too little sense of a goal + worth achieving. And if the Playboy happens to + belong to a highly advanced culture...._ + + + Illustrated by Solo + + +Through the narrow streets leading to the great plaza of Karth, swarmed +a colorful crowd--buyers, idlers, herdsmen, artisans, traders. From all +directions they came, some to gather around the fountain, some to +explore the wineshops, many to examine the wares, or to buy from the +merchants whose booths and tents hid the cobblestones. + +A caravan wound its way through a gate and stopped, the weary beasts +standing patiently as the traders sought vacant space where they might +open business. From another gate, a herdsman guided his living wares +through the crowd, his working animals snapping at the heels of the +flock, keeping it together and in motion. + +Musa, trader of Karth, sat cross-legged before his shop, watching the +scene with quiet amusement. Business was good in the city, and his was +pleasingly above the average. Western caravans had come in, exchanging +their goods for those eastern wares he had acquired. Buyers from the +city and from the surrounding hills had come to him, to exchange their +coin for his goods. He glanced back into the booth, satisfied with what +he saw, then resumed his casual watch of the plaza. No one seemed +interested in him. + +There were customers in plenty. Men stopped, critically examined the +contents of the displays, then moved on, or stayed to bargain. One of +these paused before Musa, his eyes dwelling on the merchant rather than +on his wares. + +[Illustration] + +The shopper was a man of medium height. His rather slender, finely +featured face belied the apparent heaviness of his body, though his +appearance was not actually abnormal. Rather, he gave the impression of +being a man of powerful physique and ascetic habits. His dress was that +of a herdsman, or possibly of an owner of herds from the northern +Galankar. + +Musa arose, to face him. + +"Some sleeping rugs, perhaps? Or a finely worked bronze jar from the +East?" + +The stranger nodded. "Possibly. But I would like to look a while if I +may." + +Musa stepped aside, waving a hand. "You are more than welcome, friend," +he assented. "Perhaps some of my poor goods may strike your fancy." + +"Thank you." The stranger moved inside. + +Musa stood at the entrance, watching him. As the man stepped from place +to place, Musa noted that he seemed to radiate a certain confidence. +There was a definite aura of power and ability. This man, the trader +decided, was no ordinary herdsman. He commanded more than sheep. + +"You own herds to the North?" he asked. + +The stranger turned, smiling. "Lanko is my name," he said. "Yes, I come +from the North." He swept a hand to indicate the merchandise on display, +and directed a questioning gaze at the merchant. "It seems strange that +your goods are all of the East. I see little of the West in all your +shop." + + * * * * * + +Normally, Musa kept his own council, assuming that his affairs were not +public property, but his alone. There was something about this man, +Lanko, however, which influenced him to break his usual reticence. + +"I plan a trading trip to the Eastern Sea," he confided. "Of course, to +carry eastern goods again to the East would be a waste of time, so I am +reserving my western goods for the caravan and clearing out the things +of the East." + +Lanko nodded. "I see." He pointed to a small case of finely worked +jewelry. "What would be the price of those earrings?" + +Musa reached into the case, taking out a cunningly worked pair of shell +and gold trinkets. + +"These are from Norlar, a type of jewelry we rarely see here," he said. +"For these, I must ask twenty balata." + +Lanko whistled softly. "No wonder you would make a trip East. I wager +there is profit in those." He pointed. "What of the sword up there?" + +Musa laughed. "You hesitate at twenty balata, then you point out that?" + +He crossed the tent, taking the sword from the wall. Drawing it from its +scabbard, he pointed to the unusually long, slender blade. + +"This comes from Norlar, too. But the smith who made it is still farther +to the east, beyond the Great Sea." He gripped the blade, flexing it. + +"Look you," he commanded, "how this blade has life. Here is none of your +soft bronze or rough iron from the northern hills. Here is a living +metal that will sever a hair, yet not shatter on the hardest helm." + +Lanko showed interest. "You say this sword was made beyond the Great +Sea? How, then, came it to Norlar and thence here?" + +Musa shook his head. "I am not sure," he confessed. "It is rumored that +the priests of the sea god, Kondaro, by praying to their deity, are +guided across the sea to lands unknown." + +"Taking traders with them?" + +"So I have been told." + +"And you plan to journey to Norlar to verify this rumor, and perhaps to +make a sea voyage?" + +Musa stroked his beard, wondering if this man could actually read +thoughts. + +"Yes," he admitted, "I had that in mind." + +"I see." Lanko reached for the sword. As Musa handed it to him, he +extended it toward the rear of the booth, whipping it in an intricate +saber drill. Musa watched, puzzled. An experienced swordsman himself he +had thought he knew all of the sword arts. The sword flexed, singing as +it cut through the air. + +"Merchant, I like this sword. What would its price be?" + + * * * * * + +Musa was disappointed. Here was strange bargaining. People just didn't +walk in and announce their desire for definite articles. They feigned +indifference. They picked over the wares casually, disparagingly. They +looked at many items, asking prices. They bargained a little, perhaps, +to test the merchant. They made comments about robbery, and about the +things they had seen in other merchants' booths which were so much +better and so much cheaper. + +Slowly, and with the greatest reluctance, did the normal shopper +approach the object he coveted. + +Then, here was this man. + +"_Well_," Musa told himself, "_make the most of it_." He shrugged. + +"Nine hundred balata," he stated definitely, matching the frank +directness of this unusual shopper, and incidentally doubling his price. + +Lanko was examining the hilt of the sword. He snapped a fingernail +against its blade. There was a musical _ping_. + +"You must like this bit of metal far better than I," he commented +without looking up. "I only like it two hundred balata worth." + +Musa felt relief at this return to familiar procedure. He held up his +hands in a horrified gesture. + +"Two hundred!" he cried. "Why, that is for the craftsman's apprentices. +There is yet the master smith, and those who bring the weapon to you. +No, friend, if you want this prince of swords, you must expect to pay +for it. One does not--" He paused. Lanko was sheathing the weapon, his +whole bearing expressing unwilling relinquishment. + +Musa slowed his speech. "Still," he said softly, "I am closing out my +eastern stock, after all. Suppose we make it eight hundred fifty?" + +"Did you say two hundred fifty?" Lanko held the sheathed sword up, +turning to the light to inspect the leather work. + +The bargaining went on. Outside, the crowds in the street thinned, as +the populace started for their evening meals. The sword was inspected +and re-inspected. It slid out of its sheath and back again. Finally, +Musa sighed. + +"Well, all right. Make it five hundred, and I'll go to dinner with you." +He shook his head in a nearly perfect imitation of despair. "May the +wineshop do better than I did." + + * * * * * + +"Housewife, this is Watchdog. Over." + +The man at the workbench looked around. Then, he laid his tools aside, +and picked up a small microphone. + +"This is Housewife," he announced. + +"Coming in." + +The worker clipped the microphone to his jacket, and crossed the room to +a small panel. He threw a switch, looked briefly at a viewscreen, then +snapped another switch. + +"Screen's down," he reported. "Come on in, Lanko." + +An opening appeared in the wall, to show a fleeting view of a bleak +landscape. Bare rocks jutted from the ice, kept clear of snow by the +shrieking wind. Extreme cold crept into the room, then a man swept in +and the wall resumed its solidity behind him. + +He stood for an instant, glancing around, then shrugged off a light robe +and started shedding equipment. + +"Hi, Pal," he was greeted. "How are things down Karth way?" + +"Nothing exceptional." Lanko shrugged. "This area's getting so peaceful +it's monotonous." He unsnapped his accumulator and crossed to the power +generator. + +"No wars, or rumors of wars," he continued. "The town's getting +moral--very moral, and it's developing into a major center of commerce +in the process." He kicked off his sandals, wriggled out of the baggy +native trousers, and tossed his shirt on top of them. + +"No more shakedowns. Tax system's working the way it was originally +intended to, and the merchants are flocking in." + +He walked toward the wall, flicking a hand out. An opening appeared, and +he ducked through it. + +"Be with you in a minute, Banasel," he called over his shoulder. "Like +to get cleaned up." + +Banasel nodded and went back to the workbench. He picked up a small +part, examined it, touched it gently a few times with a soft brush, and +replaced it in the device he was working on. + +He tightened it into place, and was checking another component when a +slight shuffle announced his companion's return. + +"Oh, yes," said Lanko. "Met your old pal, Musa. He's doing right well +for himself." + +Banasel swung around. "Haven't seen him since we joined the Corps. +What's he doing?" + +"Trading." Lanko opened a locker, glancing critically at the clothing +within. "He set up shop with the load of goods we gave him long ago, and +did some pretty shrewd merchandising. Now, he's planning a trip over the +Eastern Sea. He hinted at a rumor of a civilization out past Norlar." + +"Nothing out there for several thousand kilos," growled Banasel, "except +for a few little islands." He jerked a thumb toward the workbench. "I +can't show you right now, because the scanner's down for cleaning, but +there isn't even an island for the first couple thousand K's. Currents +are all wrong, too. No one could cross without navigational equipment." + +"I know," Lanko assured him. "We haven't checked over that way for a +long time, but I still remember. I didn't put it exactly that way, of +course, but I did ask Musa how he planned to get over the Eastern. And, +I got an answer." He paused as he gathered up the garments he had +discarded. + +"It seems there's a new priesthood at Norlar, who've got something," he +continued. "It's all wrapped up in religious symbology, and they don't +let any details get out, but they are guiding ships out to sea, and +they're bringing them back again, loaded with goods that never +originated in the Galankar, or in any place accessible to the +Galankar." He hung up the last article of clothing and turned, a +sheathed sword in his hand. + +"Musa sold me this," he said, extending the hilt toward Banasel. "I +never saw anything like it on this planet. Did you?" + + * * * * * + +Banasel accepted the weapon, drawing it from its scabbard. He examined +the handwork on the hilt, then snapped a fingernail against the blade. +As he listened to the musical _ping_, the technician looked at the +weapon with more interest. Gently, he flexed it, watching for signs of +strain. Lanko grinned at him. + +"Go ahead," he invited, "get rough with it. That's a sword you're +holding, Chum, not one of those bronze skull busters." + +Banasel extended the sword, whipping it violently. The blade bent, then +straightened, and bent again, as it slashed through the air. + +"Well," he murmured. "Something new." + +He put the sword on the workbench and took an instrument from a cabinet. +For a few minutes, he busied himself taking readings and tapping out +data on his computer. He sat back, looking at the sword curiously. At +last, he glanced at the computer, then put the test instrument he had +been using back in the cabinet, taking another to replace it. After +taking more readings, he looked at the computer, then shook his head, +turning to Lanko. + +"This," he said slowly, "is excellent steel. Of course, it could be an +accidental alloy, but I wouldn't think anyone on this planet could have +developed the technology to get it just so." He held the sword away from +him, looking at it closely. "Assuming an accidental alloy, an accident +in getting precisely the right degree of heat before quenching, and +someone who ground and polished with such care as to leave the temper +undisturbed, while getting this finish--Oh, it's possible, all right. +But 'tain't likely. Musa told you this came from overseas?" + +"To the best of his knowledge. He got it from a trader who claimed to +have been on a voyage across the Eastern Sea." + +Banasel leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. "You must have +had quite a talk with Musa. Did he remember you?" + +Lanko shook his head. "Don't be foolish," he grunted. "You and I were +blotted out of his memory, remember? So are quite a few of the things +that happened around Atakar, way back when. He's got a complete past, of +course, but we're not part of it. + +"No, he had a booth in the Karth market. I came through, just looking +things over, and recognized him. So, I picked an acquaintance. Beat him +down to about half the asking price for this sword, still leaving him a +whopping profit. He went to dinner with me, still bewailing the rooking +I'd given him. Told you, he's a trader. We had quite a talk, certainly. +But we were strangers." + +"Yeah." Banasel looked off into space. "Seems funny. You and I were born +on this planet. We were brought up here, and a lot of people once knew +us. But they've all forgotten, and we don't belong any more. I'm +beginning to see what they mean by 'the lonely life of a guardsman.'" + +He was silent for a time, then looked at his companion. + +"Do you think these priests at Norlar might be in our line of business?" + +"Could be," nodded Lanko. "There's a lot of seafaring out of Konassa, +and there are several other busy seaports we know of. But no one in any +of them ever heard of navigation out of sight of land, let alone trying +it. There's nothing but pilotage, and even that's pretty sketchy. And, +there's this thing." He crossed to the workbench, picked up the sword, +and stroked its blade. + +"Normally," he mused, "technical knowledge gets around. Part of it's +developed here, part there. Then someone comes along and puts it +together. And someone else adds to it. And so on. + +"Then, there are other times, when there's an abnormal source, or where +there are unusual conditions, and knowledge is very closely guarded. +This might be one of those cases, and those priests might be fronting +for someone very much in our line of business." He broke off. + +"Any maedli hot?" + +"Sure." Banasel picked a pot from the heater and poured two cups. + +"Think we should set up a base near Norlar and have a look?" + +"Probably be a good idea." Lanko accepted a cup, took a sip, and shook +his head violently. + +"Ouch! I said hot, not boiling." He blew on the cup and set it aside to +steam itself cool. + +"These mountains were an excellent base," he continued, "but this area +seems to be developing perfectly. There's no outside interference, all +traces of former interference have been eliminated, and there's very +little excuse for us to hang around." He picked up the cup again, +cautiously sampling its contents. "And it's about time we moved around +and checked on the rest of the planet." + +Banasel turned back to the workbench. "Good idea," he agreed. "I'll get +this scanner set up again, and we'll be ready to load out." He picked up +his tools. "As I remember, Norlar has a mountainous backbone where no +one ever goes. We should be able to set up right on the island." + + * * * * * + +On the eastern slope of the Midra Kran, a cloud of dust paced a caravan, +which wound up the trail, through a pass. The treachery of the narrow +path was testified to by an occasional slither, followed by a startled +curse. + +Musa stood in his stirrups, looking ahead at the long trail which +twisted a little farther up, then dropped to the wide Jogurthan plateau. +Far ahead, over the poorly marked way, he knew, was another range, the +Soruna Kran, which blocked his way to the Eastern Sea. + +He looked back at the straggling caravan. + +"Better get them to close up, Baro," he remarked. "We'd be in a lot of +trouble if a robber band caught us scattered like this." + +The other trader nodded and turned his mount. Then, he paused as shouts +came from the rear of the line. Mixed with the shouting was the clatter +of weapons. + +"Come on," cried Musa. "It's happened." + +He kicked his mount in the ribs, and swung about, starting up the steep +bank. The bandits would have bowmen posted to deal with anyone who might +try to get back along the narrow path, and he had no desire to test the +accuracy of their aim. + +As his beast scrambled up the bank, Musa saw a man standing on a +pinnacle, alertly watching the center of the caravan. His guess had been +right. The bandit leader's strategy had been to cut the caravan in two, +and to deal with the rear guard first. As the watcher started to aim at +something down on the trail, Musa quickly raised his own bow and sent an +arrow to cut the man down before he could fire. + +It was a good shot. The man made no sound as the arrow struck, but +clawed for an instant at the shaft in his side, then dropped, to slide +down the face of a low cliff. Musa, followed by his guards, stormed up +the slope. + +They went through a saddle in the hill, to find themselves confronted by +a half dozen men, who swung about, trying to bring their bows to bear on +the unexpected targets. Two of these went down as arrows sang through +the air, then the traders were upon the rest, swords flailing, too close +for archery. + +One of the bandits swung his sword wildly at Musa, who had drawn a twin +to that blade he had sold back in Karth. The slender shaft of steel rang +against the bandit's bronze blade, deflecting it, then Musa made a quick +thrust which passed through the man's leather shield, to penetrate +flesh. The bronze weapon sagged, and its holder staggered. Musa jerked +back violently, disengaged his sword, and made a swift cut. For an +instant, the bandit sat his mount, staring at his opponent. Then, he +slumped, and rolled loosely from his saddle. + +The action had been fast. Only one bandit, a skilled swordsman, +remained, to keep Baro busy. Musa rode quickly behind him, thrusting as +he passed. Baro looked across the limp body. + +"Now, what did you have to do that for?" he demanded. "I was having a +good time." + +"Let's get down to the trail again," Musa told him. "We can have a +wonderful time there." He pointed. + +The caravan's rear guard was in trouble. Several of them were in the +dust of the trail, and the survivors were being pressed by a number of +determined swordsmen. + +Baro wheeled and slid down the incline, closely followed by the rest of +the group. + +The surrounded bandits fought desperately, but hopelessly. The charge +from the hill had driven them off balance, and they were never given a +chance to recover. At last, Musa and Baro looked over the results of the +raid. + +They had lost several guards. One trader, Klaron, had been killed by an +arrow launched early in the attack. Several of the survivors were +wounded. + +"We'll have to hire some more guards and drivers in Jogurth," said Baro. +"And what are we going to do about Klaron's goods?" + +"We can divide them and sell them in Jogurth," Musa told him. "Klaron +has a brother back in Karth who can use the money, and money's a lot +easier to carry than goods. You'll see him on your return trip." + +Baro nodded, and started up the line, reorganizing the caravan. At last, +they got under way again, and resumed their slow way toward the plateau. + + * * * * * + +The caravan went on, to enter the plateau, where the traders started +resting by day and traveling by night, to avoid exertion during the +day's heat. + +They came to the city of Jogurth, which for most of them was a terminal. +From there, they would return to Karth, a few possibly going on to their +homes still farther west. Musa stayed in town for a few days, trading +his few remaining eastern goods for locally produced articles, and +helping in the sale of Klaron's goods. At last, he joined another +caravan, headed by an old trader, Kerunar, who habitually traveled +between Jogurth and Manotro, on the east coast. + +The trip across the Soruna Kran was uneventful, and Musa finally saw the +glint of the Eastern Sea. He did not stay long in Manotro, for he +discovered that the small channel ships traveled frequently, and he was +able to guide his pack beasts to the wharf, where his bales were +accepted for shipment. Leaving his goods, he led his animals back to the +market. + +Old Kerunar shook his head when he saw Musa. "Be careful, son," he +cautioned. "I've been coming here for twenty years. Used to trade in +Norlar, too. But you couldn't get me over there now for ten thousand +caldor." + +"Oh?" Musa looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?" + +Kerunar looked at his newly set up booth. Hung about it were durable +goods and trinkets from a dozen cities. There were articles even from +far-off Telon, in the Konassan gulf. He looked back at Musa. + +"Norlar," he declared, "has fallen into the hands of thieves and +murderers. You can trade there, to be sure. You can even make a profit. +But you cannot be sure you will not excite the avarice of the Kondarans, +or arouse their anger. For they have a multitude of strange laws, which +they can invoke against anyone, and which they enforce with +confiscation of goods. Death or slavery await any who protest their +actions or question their rules." He paused. + +[Illustration] + +"Some manage to trade, and come back with profitable bales. Some leave +their goods in the hands of the priests of Kondaro. Some remain, to find +a quick death. But I stop here. I prefer to deal with honorable men. +When I face the thief or the bandit, I prefer to have a weapon in my +hand. A book of strange laws can be worse than any bandit born." + +Musa looked about the market. "Here, of course," he acknowledged, "are +the goods of the Far East. But I must see them at their source." He +shook his head. "No," he decided, "I shall make one trip at least." + +"I'll give you just one word of caution, then," he was told. "Whatever +you see, make little comment. Whenever you are asked for an offering, +make no objection, but give liberally. Keep your eyes open and your +opinions to yourself." + +"Thanks." Musa grinned. "I'll try to remember." + +"Don't just remember. Follow the advice, if you wish to return." + +Musa's grin widened. "I'll be back," he promised. + + * * * * * + +The harbor of Tanagor, chief seaport of Norlar, was full of shipping. +Here were the ships which plied the trackless wastes of the Eastern Sea. +Huge, red-sailed, broad-beamed, they rode at anchor in the harbor, +served by small galleys from the city. Tied up at the wharves, were the +smaller, yellow and white-sailed ships which crossed the channel between +the mainland and the island empire. + +Slowly, Musa's ship drew in toward the wharf, where a shouting gang of +porters and stevedores awaited her arrival. Together with other +passengers, Musa stood at the rail, watching the activity on the pier. + +Four slaves, bearing a crimson curtained litter, came to the wharf and +stopped. The curtains opened, and a man stepped out. He was not large, +nor did his face or figure differ from the normal. But his elegantly +embroidered crimson and gold robes made him a colorfully outstanding +figure, even on this colorful waterfront. And the imperious assurance of +his bearing made him impossible to ignore. + +He adjusted his strangely shaped, flat cap, glanced about the wharf +haughtily, and beckoned to one of the slaves, who reached inside the +litter and took from it an ornately decorated crimson chest. Another +slave joined him, and the two, carrying the chest with every evidence of +reverent care, followed their crimson-cloaked master as he strode into a +pier office. + +Musa turned to one of the other merchants, his eyebrows raised +inquiringly. + +"A priest of Kondaro," whispered the other. "In this land, they are +supreme. Take care never to anger one of them, or to approach too +closely to the sacred chest their slaves carry. To do so can mean prompt +execution." + +As Musa started to thank the man for his friendly warning, a cry of +"Line Ho!" caused him to turn his attention to the mooring parties. +Lines had been cast aboard at bow and stern, and the ship was rapidly +being secured to stout bollards ashore. + +A gang of stevedores quickly rigged a gangway amidships, and porters +commenced streaming aboard to carry the cargo ashore. Another gangway +was rigged aft for the passengers. At the foot of this, stood one of the +priest's litter bearers, a slave with a crimson loincloth. In his hands, +he held a large, red bowl, which was decorated with intricate gold +designs. Beside him, stood his companion, a sturdy, frowning fellow, who +held a large, strangely shaped sword in his hand. Musa's previous mentor +leaned toward him nodding to the group. + +"Don't forget or fail to put a coin in that bowl," he cautioned. +"Otherwise, you'll never get passage on one of the sacred ships." + +"How much?" queried Musa. + +"The more, the better. If you want quick passage across the Great Sea, +better make it at least ten caldor." + +Musa shrugged, reaching into his purse for a gold coin. + +"Maybe I should be in the priesthood myself, instead of the trading +business," he told himself silently. + +As he passed the bowl, he noted that the other trader dropped only a +silver piece. On the wharf, the incoming passengers were being guided +into groups. Musa noted that his group was the smallest, and that his +previous friend had gone to another, larger group. An official, tablet +in hand, approached. + +"Your name, Traveler?" + +"Musa, trader, of Karth." + +"You have goods?" + +"I brought twelve bales. They are marked with my name." + +"Very good, sir. We will hold them for your disposal. You may claim them +at any time after mid-day." The man wrote rapidly on his tablet. + +Musa thanked him, then turned to see how his shipboard acquaintance was +progressing. He had questions to ask about gold and silver coins. + +He watched the older merchant complete his conversation with an +official, and, as he started to leave the wharf, quickly caught up with +him. At Musa's approach, the other held up a hand. + +"I know," he said. "Why did I tell you to make a generous offering, then +put a smaller coin in the bowl myself? That is what you want to know?" + +"Precisely," Musa replied. "I'm not a poor man, but I'm not a wealthy +holiday seeker, either. This voyage has to pay." + +The other smiled. "Exactly why I advised you as I did. Come into this +wineshop, and I'll tell you the story." + + * * * * * + +Over the drinks, the older man explained himself. An experienced trader, +he had been operating between the mainland and Norlar for many years. It +had been a profitable business, for the island had been dependent upon +the mainland for many staple items, and had in return furnished many +items of exquisite craftsmanship, as well as the produce of its +extensive fisheries and pearl beds. + +Then, the prophet, Sira Nal, had come with his preachings of a great sea +god, Kondaro, ruler of the Eastern Sea. Tonda told of the unbelief that +had confronted the prophet, and of the positive proof that Sira Nal had +offered, when he had gathered a group of converts, collected enough +money to purchase a ship, and made a highly successful voyage to the +distant lands to the east. Upon his return, Sira Nal had found a ready +market for the strange and wonderful products he had brought. He also +had found many more converts for his new religion. + +His original group, now a priesthood, were the only men who could give +protection and guidance to a ship in a voyage past the sea demons who +frequented the Eastern Sea, and they demanded large offerings to +compensate for their services. Of course, a few adventurous shipowners +had attempted to duplicate Sira Nal's feat without the aid of a priest, +but no living man had seen their ships or crews again. + +The profits from the rich, new trade, plus the alms of the traders +visiting Tanagor, had rapidly filled the coffers of Kondaro. A great +temple had been built, and the priests had become more and more +powerful, until now, not too many years after the first voyage of Sira +Nal, they virtually ruled the island. + +For some years, Tonda, a conservative man and a firm believer in his own +ancestral gods, had paid little attention to this strange, new religion. +Upon arrival at Tanagor, to be sure, he had sometimes placed small +offerings in the votive bowl, but more often, he had merely strode past +the Slave of Kondaro, and gone upon his affairs. + +At last, however, attracted by the great profits in the new, oversea +trade, he had decided to arrange for a voyage in one of the great ships. +Then, the efficiency of the priestly bookkeeping methods had become +apparent. The Great God had become incensed at Tonda's impiety during +his many previous trips across the channel, and a curse had been placed +upon him and upon his goods. Of course, if Tonda wished to do penance, +and to make votive offerings, amounting to about two thousand caldor, it +might be that the Great God would relent and allow his passage, but only +with new goods. His former possessions had been destroyed by the angry +Kondaro in his wrath at Tonda's attempts to place them in one of the +sacred ships. Empty-handed, Tonda had returned to the mainland. + +"But why did you return with more goods?" inquired Musa. + +Tonda smiled. "The wrath of Kondaro extends only to the Great Sea. And, +even though I cannot go farther east, trade here in Tanagor is quite +profitable." He paused, smiling, as he sipped his drink. + +"I think the priests like having a few penitents around to explain +things to newcomers, and to furnish examples of the power of Kondaro." + +Musa smiled in response. "But my ten caldor make me and my goods +acceptable?" + +Tonda looked around quickly, then turned a horrified face toward his +protégé. + +"Never say such things," he cautioned in a low tone of voice. "Don't +even think them. Your piety makes you acceptable, so long as you +continue in a way pleasing to the great Kondaro. The money means +nothing. It is only the spirit of sacrifice that counts." + +"I see." Musa's face was solemn. "And how else may I be sure I will +remain acceptable?" + +Tonda nodded approvingly. "I thought you were a man of good sense and +prudence." He launched into a description of the technicalities of the +worship of Kondaro, the god of the Eastern Sea. + +At length, Musa left his tutor, and repaired to an inn, where he secured +lodging for the night. + + * * * * * + +The following morning, in obedience to the advice given him by Tonda, +Musa took his way toward the Temple of the Sea. As he threaded through +the crowds already gathering in the streets, he took note of the types +of merchandise displayed in the booths, and hawked by the street +peddlers. Suddenly, one of these roving sellers approached him. In his +hands he held a number of ornaments. + +"Good day to you, oh Traveler," he cried. "Surely, it is a fortunate +morning for both of us." With a deft gesture, he threw one of the +trinkets, a cunningly contrived amulet, about Musa's neck. + +Musa would have brushed the man aside, but the chain of the amulet had +tangled about his neck and he was forced to pause while removing it. + +"I told myself when I saw you," the man continued, "ah, Banasel, here is +one who should be favored by the gods. Now, how can such a one venture +upon the Eastern Sea without a sacred amulet?" + +Musa had slipped the chain over his head. He paused, holding the +ornament in his hand. "How, then, are you to know where I am going?" + +"Oh, Illustrious Traveler," exclaimed the man, "how can I fail to know +these things when it is given to me to vend these amulets of great +fortune?" + +In spite of himself, Musa was curious. He looked at the amulet. There +was no question as to the superb workmanship, and his trading instincts +took over. + +"Why, this is a fair piece of work," he said. "Possibly I could spare a +caldor or so." + +The man before him struck his forehead. + +"A caldor, he says! Why, the gold alone is worth ten." + +Musa looked more closely at the ornament. The man was probably not +exaggerating too much. Actually, he knew he could get an easy +twenty-five balata for the bauble in Karth. A rapid calculation told him +that here was a possible profit from the skies. + +"Why, possibly it is worth five, at that," he said. "Look, I'll be +generous. Shall we say six?" + +"Oh, prince of givers! Thou paragon of generosity! After all, I, too, +must live." The man smiled wryly. "However, you are a fine, upstanding +young man, and one must make allowance. I had thought to ask twenty, but +we'll make it ten. Just the price of the gold." + +Musa smiled inwardly. The profit was secured, but maybe-- + +"Let's make it eight, and I'll give you my blessing with the money." + +The man held out his hand. "Nine." + +Musa shrugged. "Very well, most expert of vendors." He reached into his +purse. + + * * * * * + +Banasel hesitated before accepting the money. He looked Musa over +carefully, then nodded as if satisfied. + +"Yes," he said softly, "I was right." He paused, then addressed himself +directly to Musa. + +"We must be very careful to whom we sell these enchanted amulets," he +explained, "for they are talismans of the greatest of powers. The wearer +of one of these need never fear the unjust wrath of man, beast, or +demon, for he has powerful protectors at his call. Only wear this charm. +Never let it out of your possession, and you will have nothing to fear +during your voyage. Truly, you will be most favored." + +He looked sharply at Musa again, took the money, glanced at it, and +dropped it into a pouch. + +"Do you really believe in the powers of your ornaments, then?" Musa +asked skeptically. + +Banasel's eyes widened, and he spread his arms. "To be sure," he said in +a devout tone. "How can I believe else, when I have seen their +miraculous workings so often?" He held up a hand. "Why, I could spend +hours telling you of the powers these little ornaments possess, and of +the miracles they have been responsible for. None have ever come to harm +while wearing one of these enchanted talismans. None!" He spread his +arms again. + +Musa looked at him curiously. "I should like to hear your stories some +day," he said politely. + +He felt uncomfortable, as many people do when confronted by a confessed +fanatic. His feelings were divided between surprise, a mild contempt, +and an unease, born of wonder and uncertainty. + +Obviously, the man was not especially favored. He was dressed like any +street peddler. He had the slightly furtive, slightly brazen air of +those who must avoid the anger, and sometimes the notice, of more +powerful people, and yet, who must ply their trade. But he talked +grandly of the immense powers of the baubles he vended, seeming to hold +them in a sort of reverence. And, when he had spread his arms, there had +been a short-lived hint of suppressed power. Musa shuddered a little. + +"But I must go to the temple now, if I am to make arrangements for my +voyage," he added apologetically. He turned away, then hurried down the +street. + +Banasel watched him go, a slight smile growing on his face. + +"I don't blame you, Pal," he chuckled softly. "I'd feel the same way +myself." + +He glanced around noting a narrow alley. Casually, he walked into it, +then looked around carefully. No one could observe him. He straightened, +dropping the slightly disreputable, hangdog manner, then reached for his +body shield controls. + +Quickly, he cut out visibility, then actuated the levitator modulation +and narrowed out of the alley, rose over the city, and headed toward the +rugged mountains that formed the backbone of the island. + + * * * * * + +Lanko was waiting, and quickly lowered the base shield. + +"Well," he asked, "how did it go?" + +"I found him." Banasel walked over to the cabinets, and started sorting +the goods he had been carrying. "Sold him a miniature communicator. Now, +I hope he wears the thing." + +"We'll have to keep a close watch on him," commented Lanko, "just in +case he puts it in his luggage and forgets about it. Did you give him a +good sales talk?" + +"Sure. Told him to wear it always. I pawed the air, raved a little, and +made him think I was crazy. But I've an idea he'll remember and grab the +thing if he sees trouble coming." Banasel put the last ornament in its +place, and started unhooking his personal equipment. Then, he turned. + +"Look," he commented, "why bother with all this mystic business? We've +got mentacoms. Why not just clamp onto him, and keep track of him that +way? It'd be a lot simpler. Less chance of a slip, too." + +"Yeah, sure it would." Lanko gave his companion a disgusted look. "But +have you ever tried that little trick?" + +"No. I never had the occasion, but I've seen guardsmen run remote +surveillances, and even exert control when necessary. They didn't have +any trouble. We could try it, anyway." + +Lanko sat up. "We could try it," he admitted, "but I know what would +happen. I did try it once, and I found out a lot of things--quick." He +looked into space for a moment. "How old are you, Banasel?" + +"Why, you know that. I'm forty-one." + +Lanko nodded. "So am I," he said. "And our civilization is a few +thousand years old. And our species is somewhat older than that. We were +in basic Guard training, and later in specialist philosophical training +together. It took ten years, remember?" + +"Sure. I remember every minute of it." + +"Of course you do. It was that kind of training. But how old do you +think some of those young guardsmen we worked with were?" + +"Why, most of 'em were kids, fresh from school." + +"That they were. But how many years--our years--had they spent in their +schooling? How old were the civilizations they came from? And how old +were their species?" + +Lanko eyed him wryly. + +Banasel looked thoughtfully across the room. "I never thought of it that +way. Why, I suppose some of their forefathers were worrying about space +travel before this planet was able to support life. And, come to think +of it, I remember one of them making a casual remark about 'just a +period ago,' when he was starting citizen training." + +"That's what I mean." Lanko nodded emphatically. "'Just a period.' Only +ten or twelve normal lifetimes for our kind of people. And his +civilization's just as old compared to ours as he is compared to +us--older, even. + +"During that period he was so casual about, he was learning--practicing +with his mind, so that the older citizens of the galaxy could make full +contact with him without fear of injuring his mentality. He was learning +concepts that he wouldn't dare even suggest to you or to me. Finally, +after a few more periods, he'll begin to become mature. Do you think we +could pick up all the knowledge and training back of his handling of +technical equipment in a mere ten years of training?" + +Banasel reached up, taking the small circlet from his head. He held it +in his hand, looking at it with increased respect. + +"You know," he admitted, "I really hadn't thought of it that way. They +taught me to repair these things, among other pieces of equipment, and +most of the construction is actually simple. They taught me a few uses +for it, and I thought I understood it. + +"Of course, I knew we were in contact with an advanced culture, and I +knew that most of those guys we treated so casually had something that +took a long time in the getting, but I didn't stop to think of the real +stretch of time and study involved." He leaned back, replacing the +mentacom on his head. "Somehow, they didn't make it apparent." + +"Of course they didn't." Lanko spread his hands a little. "One doesn't +deliberately give children a feeling of inferiority." + +"Yeah. Will we ever learn?" + +"Some. Some day. But we've got a long, lonely road to travel first." +Lanko stood up and adjusted the communicator. + +"Right now, though, we'd better keep tabs on Musa. In fact, we'd better +follow him when he leaves here." + + * * * * * + +The temple of Kondaro, the sea god, had been built at the edge of a +cliff, so that it overlooked the Eastern Sea. The huge, white dome +furnished a landmark for mariners far out at sea, and dominated the +waterfront of Norlar. Atop the dome, a torch provided a beacon to +relieve the blackness of moonless nights. This was the home of the +crimson priests, and the center of guidance for all who wished to sail +eastward. + +Musa stood for some time, admiring the temple, then walked between the +carefully clipped hedges and up the long line of steps leading to the +arched entrance. + +Again, he stopped. Overhead, the curved ceiling of the main dome was +lower than its outer dimensions would lead one to believe, but Musa +hardly noticed that. He gazed about the main rotunda. + +It was predominantly blue. The dome was a smooth, blue sky, and the +smooth blueness continued down the walls. The white stone steps were +terminated at the edges of a mosaic sea, which stretched to the far +walls, broken only by a large statue of the sea god. Kondaro stood in +the center of his temple, facing the entrance. One arm stretched out, +the hand holding a torch, while the other arm cradled one of the great +ships favored by the god. Beneath one foot was one of the batlike sea +demons, its face mirroring ultimate despair. About the feet lapped +conventionally sculptured waves, which melted into the mosaic, to be +continued to the walls by the pattern of the tiles. At the far side of +the rotunda, the double stairs, which led to bronze doors, were almost +inconspicuous, seeming to be a vaguely appearing mirage on the horizon +of a limitless sea. + +The trader looked at the far side, then down, and hesitated, feeling as +though he were about to walk on water. Then, he turned, remembering the +pedestal nearby. A crimson bowl rested on this stand, and beside it was +a slave in the crimson loincloth which marked the menials of Kondaro. + +Musa stepped over to the pedestal, dropped a coin into the bowl, and +walked toward the rear of the temple, making proper obeisance to the +huge statue. A young priest approached him. + +"I crave blessings for a voyage I propose to take," announced the +trader. + +The priest inclined his head. + +"Very well, Traveler, follow me." + +He led the way to a small office. An older priest sat at a large table, +reading a tablet. Conveniently placed were writing materials, and on the +table before him was another votive bowl. Musa dropped a coin into the +bowl, and the priest looked up. + +"I bring a voyager, O, Wise One," said the young priest. + +"It is well," the older priest acknowledged in a deep voice. He turned +to Musa. "Your name, Voyager?" + +Musa gave his name, his age, the amount of his goods, and an account of +his actions since his arrival in Tanagor. At the mention of Tonda, the +priest nodded. + +"The actions of Tonda have been most exemplary for the past several +seasons," he remarked. "He is a good man, but he lacks the proper spirit +of sacrifice." He concluded his writing. + +"Well, then, Musa, you may go to those who sail ships with the blessing +of Kondaro upon you. I shall only caution you as to the observance of +the rites and laws for those who sail the Great Sea. Go now, in peace." + +As Musa turned, the younger priest spoke. "I will lead you to one who +will give you further guidance," he said. + +Musa followed him to another small room, where he met still another +priest. This man, he discovered, was a shrewd trader in his own right. +He was familiar with goods and their values, and in addition to the +rites he described, he presented definite advice as to what to take and +what to leave behind. Fortunately, Musa discovered as he talked to this +priest, he had picked very nearly as good a selection as he could wish. + +[Illustration] + +During the days that followed, Musa made more votive offerings, +practiced the rites ordered by the priest, and watched his goods as they +were delivered to the _Bordeklu_, a ship belonging to Maladro, beloved +of Kondaro, a shipowner whose ships were permitted by the sea god and +his priests to sail the Eastern Sea. + +At last, the day arrived when Musa himself boarded the ship and set sail +past the headland of Norlar. + + * * * * * + +As the ship was warped out of the harbor, Musa took stock of his fellow +passengers. Among them were a slender, handsome man named Ladro, who had +been on many previous voyages to the land of the East, and Min-ta, a +native of the eastern continent, who was returning from a trading voyage +to Norlar. There were several others, but they kept to themselves, +seeming to radiate an aura of exclusiveness. Ladro and Min-ta on the +other hand, were more approachable. + +_Surely_, thought Musa, _these two can teach me a great deal of the land +I am to visit, if they will_. + +He walked over to the rail, where the two stood, looking out over the +shoreline. The ship was coming abreast of the great temple of Kondaro. + +"It's the most prominent landmark on the island, isn't it?" Musa +commented. + +"What?" Ladro turned, looking at him curiously. "Oh, yes," he said, "the +temple. Yes, it's the last thing you see as you leave, and the first +when you return." He paused, examining Musa. "This is your first trip?" + +"Yes, it is. I've always traded ashore before this." + +"But you finally decided to visit Kneuros?" + +"Yes. I've dealt with a few traders who had goods from there, and their +stories interested me." + +Ladro smiled. "Romance of the far places?" + +"Well, there's that, too," Musa admitted, "but I'm interested in some of +the merchandise I've seen." + +"There's profit in it," agreed Ladro. "How long have you been trading +around Norlar?" + +"This is my first trip. I'm from Karth, in the Galankar." + +"You mean you were never in Norlar before?" Min-ta joined the +conversation. + +Musa shook his head. "I left Karth for the purpose of trading east of +the Great Sea." + +"Unusual," mused Min-ta. "Most traders work between Tanagor and the +mainland for several years before they try the Sea." + +"Yes," added Ladro, "and some never go out. They satisfy themselves with +the channel trade." He pointed. "We're getting out to the open sea now, +past the reef." + +The ship drew away from the island kingdom, setting its course toward +the vague horizon. The day wore on, to be replaced by the extreme +blackness of night. Then, the sky lit up again, heralding another day. + +The ship's company had settled to sea routine, and the traders roamed +about their portion of the deck, talking sometimes, or napping in the +sun. Musa leaned over the low rail, watching the water, and admiring the +clear, blue swells. + +He raised his head as the door of the forward cabins opened. A priest, +followed by a group of slaves, went up to the raised forecastle. Under +the priest's direction, the slaves busied themselves putting up a high, +crimson and yellow curtain across the foredeck. They completed their +task and went below. + +Again, the door opened, and a procession, headed by the chief priest, +slowly mounted the ladder to the forecastle. Each of the three priests +was followed by his slave, who bore a crimson casket. The curtain closed +behind them, then the slaves came out and ranged themselves across the +deck, facing aft. + +"I wonder," said Musa, turning to Ladro, "what ritual they are +performing." + +Ladro shook his head. "The less a man knows of the activities of the +priests, the better he fares," he declared. "Truly, on a great ship, +curiosity is a deadly vice." + +Musa nodded to the stern. "I see that one of the priests is not at the +bow." + +"That is right. One priest always remains by the steersman, to ward off +the spells of the sea demons." Ladro paused, pointing overside. "See," +he said in a pleased tone, "here is an envoy from Kondaro." + + * * * * * + +Musa's gaze followed the pointing finger. A huge fish was cruising +alongside, gliding effortlessly through the waves, and occasionally +leaping into the air. + +"An envoy?" + +"Yes. So long as a kontar follows a ship, fair weather and smooth +sailing may be expected. They are sent by Kondaro as guardians for +those ships he especially favors." + +At a call from the priest in the stern, two sailors appeared, carrying +chunks of meat. As the priest chanted, they tossed these overside. The +great fish rose from the water, catching one of the chunks as it fell, +then dropped back, and the water frothed whitely as he retrieved the +other. He gulped the meat, then swam contentedly, still pacing the ship. + +"Suppose someone fell overboard?" Musa gazed at the kontar in +fascination. + +Ladro and Min-ta exchanged glances. + +"If one is favored by the Great One," replied Min-ta slowly, "it is +believed that the kontar would guard him from harm. Otherwise, the +sacrifice would be accepted." + +Musa looked at the clear water, then glanced back to the spot of foam +which drew astern. + +"I don't believe I'll try any swimming from the ship." He backed +slightly from the rail, glancing quickly at Ladro and Min-ta, then +looking away again. + +He suddenly realized that he had exceeded his quota of questions, and +that he could get into trouble. He had noted that most of the ship's +company appeared to know the other traders aboard, even though some of +them hadn't been to sea before. Min-ta and Ladro were obviously well +acquainted with several of the ship's officers. But he, Musa, was a +stranger. + +He had already observed that the priesthood of Kondaro was not averse to +a quick profit, and that they placed a low value on the lives and +possessions of others. He had dealt with tribes ashore, who had the +simple, savage ethic: + +"He is a stranger? Kill him! Take his goods, and kill him." + +Ashore, he had protected himself during his many trips by consorting +with other traders of good reputation, and by hiring guards. But here? +He remembered the remarks made by Kerunar back in Manotro. + +"When I face the thief or the bandit, I prefer to have a weapon in my +hand." + +Slowly, he collected himself, and looked back at Ladro and Min-ta. + +"If you gentlemen will excuse me," he apologized, "I have some accounts +to cast, so I believe I'll go to my quarters." He turned and went below. + +As he disappeared down the ladder, Ladro turned to his companion. + +"Of course," he said thoughtfully, "if all goes well, this man will be +most favored. But if the Great One shows signs of displeasure--" + +Min-ta nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "I have heard of strangers who excited +the wrath of Kondaro." His eyes narrowed speculatively. "Those of the +faithful who keep watch on such unfavored beings are rewarded by the +priests, I am told." + +Ladro nodded. "I believe that is correct," he agreed. "We should be +watchful for impiety in any event." He stretched. "Well, I think I shall +take a short nap before dinner." + +Below, the traders' quarters were cramped. There was a small, common +space, with a table, over which hung the single light. About the +bulkheads were curtained recesses, sufficiently large for a bunk and +with barely enough space for the occupant to stand. Musa closed the +curtains, and sat down on his bunk. + +Of course, he had no proof. There was no really logical sequence to +prove that the situation was dangerous. There was no evidence that his +fellow voyagers were other than honorable, well-intentioned men. But he +simply didn't feel right. He pulled his wooden chest from under the +bunk, opened it, and looked through the small store of personal effects. + +There was no weapon. The law of Kondaro forbade the carrying of those by +other than the priests and their slaves. His attention was attracted by +a glitter, and he picked up the small amulet he had bought from the +peddler in Norlar. Slowly, he turned it in his hands. + +It was an unusual ornament, strangely wrought. He had never seen such +fine, regular detail, even in the best handicraft. As he looked closer, +he could not see how it could have been accomplished with any of the +instruments he was familiar with, yet it must have been hand made, +unless it were actually of supernatural origin. + +He remembered the urgent seriousness of the peddler's attitude, and he +could recall some of his words. The man had spoken almost convincingly +of powerful protectors, and Musa could foresee the need of such. He +found himself speaking. + +"Oh, power that rests in this amulet," he said, "if there is any truth +in the peddler's words, I--" He paused, his usual, hard, common sense +taking over. + +"I'm being silly!" He drew his hand back to throw the ornament into the +chest. Then, he felt himself stopped. An irresistible compulsion seized +him, and he dazedly secured the amulet about his neck. Feeling sick and +weak, he tucked it into his garments. Then, still moving in a daze, he +left the cabin and returned to the deck. He did not so much as try to +resist the sudden desire. + +The breeze made him feel a little better, but he was still shaken, and +his head ached violently. Little snatches of undefined memory tried to +creep into his consciousness, but he couldn't quite bring them into +focus. He turned toward the rail, and saw Min-ta still there. + +"Well," commented the easterner, "your accounts didn't take long." + +Musa smiled wanly. "It was stuffy down there. I felt I had to come up +for some air." + +Min-ta nodded. "It does get close in the quarters during the day." He +pointed alongside. + +"We are favored still," he said. "Another kontar has joined us." + +Two of the great fish paced the ship, gliding and leaping effortlessly +from wave to wave. Musa watched them. + +"We must be favored indeed." + +"Yes." Min-ta smiled. "May our favor last." + +Musa's head still ached, and the glints of the sun reflected from the +water made it worse. He looked aft, to the faint line where sky met +water. There was a low line of clouds. His gaze traveled along the +horizon, and he noted that the clouds seemed a little darker forward. +Still, he felt uneasy, and alone. + + * * * * * + +_"See what I meant?"_ + +_"Ooh! Yeah. Yeah, I see. What a backlash that was! I've got the +grandfather of all headaches, and I won't be able to think straight for +a week. Wonder how Musa feels--But I got results, anyway."_ + +_"Yes. You got results. So did I once, when I tried something similar. +But I'll live a long time before I try it again. How about you?"_ + +_"Don't worry. Next time I try to exert direct mental control on another +entity, this planet'll have space travel. Wonder if some klordon +tablets'll help any."_ + +_"Might. Try one, then let's get busy and scatter a few more +communicators around that ship. Be more practical than beating our +brains out."_ + + * * * * * + +As the days passed, Musa became familiar with the shipboard routine and +lost some of his early uneasiness regarding his traveling companions. He +became acquainted with other traders, finding them to be average men, +engaged in the same trade as himself. He talked to members of the ship's +company, and found them to be normal men, who worked at their trade in a +competent manner. Only the four priests held aloof. Ignoring officers, +sailors, and traders alike, they spoke only to their slaves, who passed +their comments to the ship's company. + +On the morning of the tenth day, Musa came to the deck, to find the sea +rougher than usual. Waves rose, scattering their white plumes for the +wind to scatter. Ahead, dark clouds hid the sky, and occasional spray +came aboard, spattering the deck and the passengers. + +Just outside the cabin entrance, a small knot of traders were gathered. +As Musa came out, they separated. + +Musa went over to the rail, looking overside at the waves. The two +kontars were not in sight. He looked about, noting the sailors, who +hurried about the deck and into the rigging, securing their ship for +foul weather. Close by, Ladro and Min-ta were talking. + +"It is quite possible," said Ladro, "that someone aboard has broken a +law of the great Kondaro, and the kontars have gone to report the sin." +He glanced at Musa calculatingly. + +"Yes," agreed Min-ta, "we--" + +An officer, hurrying along the deck, stopped. "All passengers will have +to go below," he said. "We're in for bad weather, and don't want to lose +anyone overboard." + +"Could this be the wrath of Kondaro?" asked Ladro. + +The officer glanced at him questioningly. "It could be, yes. Why?" + +Again, Ladro cast a look at Musa, then he caught the seaman by the arm, +pulling him aside. The two engaged in a low-toned conversation, +directing quick glances at Musa. At last, the officer nodded and went +aft, to approach one of the slaves of Kondaro. + +Musa started across the deck to the ladder, his heart thudding +painfully. Surely, he thought, he had done nothing to offend even the +most particular of deities. Yet, the implications of Ladro's glances and +his conversation with the ship's officer were too obvious for even the +dullest to misinterpret. Musa took a long, shuddering breath. + +His fears on that other day had been well grounded, then. + +He gazed at the lowering sky, then out at the waves. Where could a lone, +friendless man find help in this waste of wind and water? + +Slowly, he climbed down the ladder leading to his tiny cubicle. + +Once inside, he again started checking over his personal items. There +was nothing there to help. Hopelessly, he looked at the collection in +the chest, then he got out a scroll of prose and went to the central +table to read in an effort to clear his mind of the immediate +circumstances. + +Minutes later, he went back to his bunk and threw the scroll aside. +Possibly, he was just imagining that he was the target of a plot. +Possibly there was a real sea god named Kondaro--an omnipotent sea +deity, who could tell when persons within his domain were too curious, +or harbored impious thoughts, and who was capable of influencing the +actions of the faithful. + +Possibly, his opinions of the priesthood had been noted and had +offended. Or, perhaps, that peculiar little device he had seen a priest +studying was capable of warning the god that it had been profaned by an +unsanctified gaze. Possibly, this storm was really the result of such a +warning. He was sure the priest hadn't seen him, but it could be that +the device itself might-- + +Musa threw himself on his bunk. + + * * * * * + +A deep voice resonated through the room. + +"Musa of Karth," it said, "my master, Dontor, desires your presence on +deck." + +Musa came to his feet. Two of the slaves of Kondaro stood close by, +swords in hand. One beckoned, then turned. Musa followed him into the +short passage, and up the ladder. As they gained the deck, the small +procession turned aft, to face the senior priest. + +Dontor stood on the raised after deck, just in front of the helmsman. +The wind tugged at his gold and crimson robe, carrying it away from his +body, so that it rippled like a flag, and exposed the bright blue +trousers and jacket. Dontor, chief priest of the _Bordeklu_, stood +immobile, his arms folded, his feet braced against the sway of his +vessel. As the trio below him stopped, he frowned down at them. + +"Musa, of Karth," he intoned, "it has been revealed to me that you have +displayed undue curiosity as to the inner mysteries of the worship of +the Great God. In your conversations, you have hinted at knowledge +forbidden any but the initiated. + +"You came to us, a stranger, and we trusted you. But now, we are all +faced with the wrath of the Great One as a result of your impieties. A +sacrifice, and only a sacrifice, will appease this wrath. Can you name +any reason why we should protect you further, at the expense of our own +lives? What say you?" + +Musa stared up at him. The cotton in his throat had suddenly become +thick, and intensely bitter. Unsuccessfully, he tried to swallow, and a +mental flash told him that whatever he said, he was already convicted. +Regardless of what defense he might offer, he knew he would be condemned +to whatever punishment these people decided to deal out to him. And that +punishment, he realized, would be death. He straightened proudly. + +"Oh, priest," he said thickly, "I am guilty of no crime. You, however, +are about to commit a serious crime, which is beyond my power to +prevent." He hesitated, then continued. "Be warned, however, that if +there are any real gods above or below, you will receive punishment. The +gods, unlike men, are just!" + +Aware of sudden motion in his direction, he rapidly finished. + +"So, make your sacrifice, and then see if you can save your vessel from +the natural forces of wind and water." + +The priest stiffened angrily. + +"Blasphemy," he said. "Blasphemy, of the worst sort." He looked away +from Musa. "I believe that in this case, the Great One will require the +ship's company to deal with you in their own way, that they may be +purged of any contamination due to your presence." He raised his arms. + +"Oh, Great Kondaro, Lord of all the seas, and the things within the +seas," he began. + +Musa evaded the two slaves with a quick weave of his shoulders. Covering +the distance to the side of the ship with a few quick steps, he jumped +over the rail. As he fell, the wind tore at him, and his windmilling +arms and legs failed to find any purchase to right him. + +He hit the water with a splash and concussion that nearly knocked the +breath from his body, and promptly sank. As the water closed over his +head, he struck out with hands and feet in an effort to climb again to +light and air. His head broke the surface, and he flailed the water in +an effort to keep his nose in air. The ship was drawing away from him, +its storm sails set. + +As he struggled in the water, he wondered if it was worth while. After +all, he had only to allow himself to sink, and all his troubles would be +over shortly. Wouldn't it be easier to do this than to continue +torturing himself with a hopeless fight? + +Too, he wondered if he had been right in leaving the ship, but he +quickly dismissed that thought. The sea was impersonal, neither cruel +nor kind. It was far better, he thought, to surrender to the forces of +nature than to subject himself to the viciousness of angry men. + +Suddenly, a constraining force seized him. He instinctively fought to +free himself, then realized that he was being drawn upward, out of the +water. Possibly, he thought, the Great One wanted to speak to him. + + * * * * * + +He rose swiftly through the air, passed through complete darkness for an +instant, then found himself in a small room. Two men stood facing him, +both of them vaguely familiar. As his mind refocused, Musa recognized +the peddler of amulets, then the herder to whom he had once sold a +sword. They were strangely familiar, but they were in strange costumes. +He stared at them. + +"Well, Musa," said the herder. "I see you got into trouble." + +Musa blinked. "Who are you?" he demanded. "How do you know of my +affairs?" + +The peddler of amulets grinned. "Why, we are old companions, Musa," he +said. "Of course, you have forgotten us, but we never forgot you." He +pointed. + +"This is Resident Guardsman Lanko. I am Banasel, also of the Stellar +Guard. Our job is to prevent just such situations as the one you just +found yourself in." His grin faded. "That, and a few other things." + +Musa frowned. "Stellar Guard? What is that?" + +Lanko studied him for a moment, then crossed the small room. "You knew +once," he tossed over his shoulder, "but you rejected the knowledge, and +it had to be taken from you. Since you'll be working with us for a +while, I think we will have to restore your memories. Perhaps you'll +want to retain them." He removed equipment from a cabinet. + +"Some of this will have to be secondhand, since neither Banasel nor +myself have been in the spots shown. But some of it is firsthand." + +His hand flicked a switch. + +A power unit hummed, and Musa found himself recalling a campsite near +the now destroyed and rebuilt city of Atakar. As the imposed mental +blocks fell away, he remembered who Banasel and Lanko were. And he +realized why he had been drawn to them in the recent past. + +Memories of his days of slavery in Atakar flashed before his mind, and +he remembered the part these two had taken in his escape. He recalled +the days of banditry, and the strange visitors, who had brought with +them disturbing knowledge, and strange powers. + +He saw the destruction of Atakar, and the capture of the galactic +criminals who had depraved that city. He shared the experiences of his +two companions during their introduction to the advanced culture of the +Galactic Federation, and he saw snatches of their training at Aldebaran +Base. He went with them on some of their missions. + +The humming stopped, and he looked up at the two. + +"So," Lanko told him, "now you know." + +Musa nodded. "I turned something down, didn't I?" + + * * * * * + +As Musa disappeared over the vessel's side, the priest, Dontor, lowered +his arms. Quickly turning the unscheduled event to advantage, he cried, +"We need worry no further, my children. The Great One has called this +blasphemer to final account." + +He turned to one of his juniors, lowering his voice. + +"Go below, Alnar, and break out this man's goods. We must reward those +who informed us." + +The junior bowed. "Yes, sir." He hesitated. "Will this storm blow over +soon?" he queried. + +Dontor smiled. "You should have paid more attention to your course in +practical seamanship," he chided. "We are sailing fairly close hauled, +so our speed is added to that of the wind. And, since storms move, it'll +pass us shortly." He pointed to the horizon. + +"See that small break in the clouds? That indicates a possibility of +clear weather beyond. We should be through the worst of the storm in a +matter of a few hours. And we'll never reach the really dangerous core +of the storm, for we are passing through an edge of it. Our only problem +is to keep from losing a mast during the time we are close to the +storm's heart." He paused, looking aloft. + +"The crew is competent. They have the sails properly reefed, and, if +necessary, they can furl them in short order. What trouble can we have?" + +"Thank you, sir." The younger priest bowed again. "I will make the +necessary arrangements for those goods." + +Dontor stood for a moment, surveying the ship, then walked toward the +helm. + +"If I am ever in charge of operations," he told himself, "I will replace +some of these sailors by neophyte priests, and let them steer by their +own compasses. This method is too cumbersome. Besides, the neophytes +should get to sea earlier, anyway." + +He approached the pilot priest, who stood apart from the helmsman, his +slave holding the little red box with the compass. + +"How is our course?" + +The priest turned, then bowed. "We are off course twelve degrees to the +north, sir," he reported. "I have instructed the helmsman to come as +close to the wind as possible." + +Dontor nodded. "Very good," he approved. "Keep track of your time, and +we'll correct when we get a chance to shift course to the south. We can +determine whatever final correction is necessary at noon sight +tomorrow." + +Alnar came up the ladder to the quarterdeck. Approaching Dontor, he +bowed in salute, then reported. + +[Illustration] + +"The goods are ready, sir." + +"Very well. Find those two traders and give them the usual ten per cent, +then bring me an inventory of the remainder." + + * * * * * + +Musa stood, fists clenched, facing the recorder play-back. "The usual +ten per cent, he says! Why, I'd like to slaughter the lot of those +murdering thieves!" + +Lanko snapped off the switch. "Don't blame them too much," he laughed. +"After all, they're only trying to make a living, and it's the only +trade they know." + +As Musa nearly choked on his attempted reply, Banasel broke in. + +"Sure," he chuckled. "Besides, it's guys like them that keep guys like +us in business." + +Lanko noticed the horrified expression on Musa's face, and quickly +composed himself. He put his hand on the man's shoulder. + +"Look," he explained seriously, "if we got so we took people like these +to heart, we'd spend half our time getting psyched to unsnarl our own +mental processes." He gestured to the reels of tape in a cabinet. + +"Here, we have the records of hundreds of cases like this one. Some are +worse, some are not so bad. Every one of them had to be--and +was--cracked by members of our Corps. This is just another of those +minor, routine incidents that keep cropping up all over the galaxy. It's +our problem now, and we'll get to work on it." He turned. + +"Where do you want to start, Banasel?" + +"Well--competition's the life of trade." + +"That comes later." Lanko shook his head. "There's an alien or so to be +taken care of first, you know." + +"I know. It's fairly obvious." + +"So, we've got to find him--or them." + +Musa had regained his self-control. "What about these birds in hand?" + +Banasel shrugged. "Small fry. We'll take care of them later." He walked +over to the workbench, picking up Lanko's sword. + +"I wondered about this before," he said. "Now, I'm sure about it. It +simply doesn't match a normal technology for this period." + +Musa looked at him curiously. "But there are a lot of those around +Norlar," he said. "They're a rarity in the Galankar, to be sure, but--" + +"That's what we mean," Lanko told him. "Too many anachronisms. First, we +have this sword. Then, we meet these priests of Kondaro, who discuss +meteorology, navigation, and pilotage with considerable understanding. +We've had communicators planted on that ship for several days now, and I +still can't see how the technology was developed that allowed the +manufacture of some of their instruments. We should have noticed +something wrong a long time ago. + +"The priests use sextants, watches, compasses. And, just to make it +worse, we have one video recording of a priest laying out a course on an +accurate chart. He was using a protractor, which was divided into +Galactic degrees. That was the clincher. Somebody's out of place, and +we've got to find him--or them." + +He took the sword from Banasel. "I think we'd better go on to the +eastern continent, see what we can find, then we can deal with our +friends. But first, Ban, you'd better run out a call for one of the +Sector Guardsmen to back us up if necessary. We could run into something +too hot for us to handle." + +Banasel nodded and turned to the communicator. Lanko dropped into the +pilot seat, glanced at the screens, and moved controls. In the +viewscreen, the sea tilted, drew farther away, then became a level, +featureless blue expanse. + + * * * * * + +"Well, here's your eastern continent. In fact, this is the city of +Kneuros. It's where you wanted to go, isn't it?" + +Musa looked at Banasel thoughtfully. + +"Yes," he admitted. "It's where I thought I wanted to go, but now I +really know what I wanted in the first place." + +"Oh?" + +"Certainly. I was restless. I thought I liked being a trader in Karth, +and I was a fairly good trader, too. But I was just getting things at +secondhand. I turned down just what I really wanted, because it scared +me. That was a long time ago." He looked at the control panel. He'd +understood such panels once, some years ago. + +"How do you plan to find your aliens--if there are any?" + +"Search pattern." Lanko shrugged. "We'll cruise around in a grid pattern +until we pick up some sort of reading, or until we spot something +abnormal." He pointed at a series of instruments. + +"They're bound to have a ship somewhere, and we'll pick up a small +amount of power radiation from their screens. If their ship were +orbiting in space, we'd have picked it up long ago, so we must assume +it's grounded. I think we'd better go right into a pattern. We can use +Kneuros as origin." He stared at the plotting instruments. + +"Let's see. If I wanted to hide a ship, I'd use the most inaccessible +location I could find. We do that ourselves, in fact. And there are some +mountainous regions inland." He set up course and speed. + +"Yeah," Banasel added, "and I'd worry a lot more about ground approach +than air accessibility, at least on this planet." + +The ship gained altitude, accelerated, and sped eastward. + +Day by day, the course trace built up, the cameras recorded the terrain +under the ship, and the two guardsmen built up their mosaic. The ship +crossed and re-crossed the continent, mapping as it went. + +From time to time, Lanko made careful comparison of the new mosaic with +an earlier survey, noting differences. There were new settlements. Where +members of a nomadic culture had roamed the prairie, an industrial +civilization was rapidly growing. + +Lanko tapped on the map. "Two cultures," he observed. "Two cultures, +separated by mountains and desert. Absolutely no evidence of contact, +but considerable similarity between them. This pattern begins to look +familiar." + +He picked a tape from the shelves, ran it through a viewer, then +reversed it, and picked out various portions for recheck. Finally, he +made a superposition of some of their observation tape, examined it, and +turned. Banasel held up a hand. + +"Don't tell us," he growled. "I studied about drones, too." + +"Drones?" Musa looked at him, then glanced back at the viewer. + +"Yes. Characters from one of the advanced cultures, who feel frustrated, +and fail to fit in. They often turn into pleasure seekers, and +frequently end up by monkeying with primitive cultures, to prove their +ability to themselves, at least." + +"Things like this happen often?" + +"Oh, not too often, I suppose, but often enough so that people like us +are stationed on every known primitive planet, to prevent activity of +the type. You see, the drones usually start out simply, by setting up +minor interference in business or government on some primitive planet. +Usually, they're caught pretty quickly. But sometimes they evade +capture. And they can end up by exerting serious influence in cultural +patterns. Some planets have been set back, and even destroyed as a +result of drone activity. Although their motives are different, +drones're just as bad and just as dangerous as any other criminal." + +Lanko grinned a little. "Only difference is, they're usually easier to +combat than organized criminal groups with a real purpose. Generally, +they're irresponsible youngsters who don't have the weapons, +organization, or ability that the real criminals come up with." He +shrugged. + +"Of course," he added, "we've called for help just in case. But we'll +probably be able to take care of this situation by ourselves. In fact, +unless there are unusual features, we'd better, if we don't want to be +regarded as somewhat ineffectual." He paused, glanced toward the +detector set, and tapped on the map again, then slowly traced out an +area. + +"We should be picking up something pretty soon," he said, thoughtfully. +"Better set up a pattern around here, in the mountain ranges, Banasel. +We can worry about settled areas later." + + * * * * * + +A needle flickered, rose from zero, then steadied. + +Somewhere, back of the instrument panel, a tiny current actuated a micro +relay, and an alarm drop fell. + +As the warning buzz sounded, both Lanko and Banasel looked over at the +detector panel. + +"Well, it's about time." Lanko leaned to his right, setting switches. A +screen lit up, showing a faint, red dot. He touched the controls, +bringing the dot to center screen, then checked the meters. + +"Not too far," he remarked. "A little out of normal range, though. He +must have all his screen power on." + +Banasel turned back to the workbench, studied the labels on the drawers +for a moment, then opened one. + +"Guess we'll need a can opener?" + +"We might. If he's aboard, we may have to get a little rough." Lanko +leaned back. + +"Check the power pattern. Sort of like to know what we're running into +before we commit ourselves." He glanced again at the indicators, then +poked at switches. + +"In fact, I think we'd better wait right here, till we get this boy +identified." + +Banasel was whistling tunelessly as he set up readings on a computer. +Finally, he poked the activator bar, and watched as the machine spat out +tape. Above the tape chute, a series of graphs indicated the +computations, but Banasel ignored them, feeding the tape into another +machine. + +"I suppose there are some characters who could make a positive +identification from the figures and curves. But I'm just a beginner. +That's why they furnish integrator directories, I guess." + +Lanko smiled. "I don't know anything, either," he agreed. "But I +generally know where I can look up what I need." He set a compact reel +of tape into the computer. + +They watched the directory as its screens glowed. Figures and +descriptions shimmered, and there was a rapid ticking. A sheet flowed +out toward them, and Banasel tore it off as the ticks ceased. + +"Type seventeen screens," he read. "Probably Ietorian model Nan +fifty-seven generators. Strictly a sportster setup. He's got +electromagnetics and physical contact screens, but there's nothing else. +And, with the type of readings I've got here, I'd say he's running all +the power he's got. Do we go in?" + +"Sure we do." Lanko nodded confidently as he slapped the drive lever. + +"This thing we've got's only an atmosphere flier, but it's made to take +care of tougher stuff than luxury sportsters. Set up your can opener, +just in case our boy wants to argue with us." + +Banasel nodded silently. + +The small sportster was parked between two peaks. Before it was a tiny +level space, too small for any ship. Above it, towered bare rock, tipped +with eternal snow. Lanko examined the scene disgustedly. + +"Inhospitable, isn't he?" he grunted. "He could at least have had enough +front yard for a visitor to land." He picked up a microphone, touched a +stud, and turned a knob. A faint hiss sounded from the speaker before +him. + +"Philcor resident calling sportster," he snapped. "Come in, Over." + +The hiss continued. Lanko punched another stud, and listened. The hiss +remained unchanged. + +"Open him up, Banasel," he finally ordered. "I'm going in." + +He rose from his chair, crossing to the exit port. For an instant, he +stood, checking his equipment belt. Then, he reached to a cabinet, to +pick up a tool kit. He opened the box, examined its contents, then +turned and nodded to Banasel. + +The port opened wide, and he stepped through. + +He dropped lightly to the space before the sportster, then stepped away, +crouching behind a rock out-crop, and turned his body shield to full +power. + +"Screens down," he ordered. + + * * * * * + +A faint haze grew about the sportster. At first, it was a barely +perceptible fluorescence. Then, it became a fiercely incandescent glow. +It flamed for a few seconds, then faded, becoming green, yellow, red, +and at last, blinking to invisibility. + +"They're damped," Banasel's voice announced. "Shall I give him some more +and knock out the generators?" + +"Not necessary," Lanko told him. "Just hold complete neutralization. +I'll cut them from inside." + +He rose from his position behind the rock, idly kicking at the face of +it as he walked past. A shower of dust crumbled to the ground. + +"Good thing there aren't any trees around here," he laughed. "We'd have +to put out a forest fire." + +He pulled his hand weapon from his belt, made a careful adjustment, then +walked over to the ship. After a quick examination, he directed the +weapon toward a spot in the hull. + +"Lot of credits here," he commented laconically. "Shame to hurt the +finish too much." + +A few minutes later, he stepped back, examining his work. Then, he +nodded and removed another instrument from his tool kit. He focused it +on the ship's port, flicked a switch on his belt, then snapped the +instrument on. + +For a few seconds, nothing happened, then there was a grinding screech +of tortured metal, and the port swung open. + +As Lanko stepped inside, he examined the control room with care. At +last, satisfied that no booby traps were set, he crossed to the control +panel. He located the communicator controls, and picked up the +microphone. + +"All's well, Ban," he reported. "Ease off." + +He watched as the overloaded generator recovered. When the needles were +at normal readings, he flicked the screen controls off, then picked up +the microphone again. + +"Haul out, Banasel," he ordered. "I'm going to fix this can up again, +close the port, run up the screens, and wait for our boy to come home. +Like to talk to him." + + * * * * * + +The sportster had a well stocked galley. Lanko ate with enjoyment, +studying the tapes he had found interestedly. Finally, he pushed the +last reel aside, then sat back to gaze at the wall. + +A low tone sounded, and the viewscreen activated. Lanko nodded to +himself, then went to the control room aperture, turning off the alarm +as he went through. A few strides took him to the entry port, where he +waited, weapon in hand. + +The door swung open and Lanko touched his trigger. The newcomer's screen +flared briefly, then collapsed. Lanko stepped forward, examining his +prisoner. + +He was humanoid. There were some differences from the usual type +encountered on the planet, but they were not serious. He could have +passed in most of the Galankar, if not anywhere. Some might even be +attracted by his slightly unusual appearance. Lanko drew him into the +ship, and closed the port. + +He took his time, making a complete search of the captive's clothing, +and removing equipment and weapons. At last, he drew back, satisfied +that the being was harmless. He waited. It wouldn't be too long before +the business could begin. + +As the paralysis effect wore off, the man on the floor flexed his +muscles, then got to his feet. Lanko watched him, his weapon resting on +his knees. As the man tensed to spring, Lanko raised the weapon a +little. + +"You are Genro Kir?" + +"Who are you? What's the idea?" Kir reached for his belt, then dropped +his hand again as he found nothing there. + +"Resident Guardsman. Name's Lanko. You seem to be a little out of place +on this planet." + +"I'm not responsible to some native patrolman." Kir's face became +stubborn. "I'm a Galactic Citizen." + +"Possibly. We'll leave that to the Sector authorities." Lanko shrugged, +his face expressionless. "Meantime, you'll have to accept things as they +are. Or would you rather be paralyzed again?" + +Genro Kir tensed again, making an obvious mental effort. + +Lanko grinned at him in real amusement. "I took it. Wouldn't do you much +good anyway. They gave me heavy-duty equipment, you know." He waved +toward a chair with his weapon. "Might as well sit down and talk about +it. I've been through your tapes, of course." + +Kir looked around unhappily, then sank into a chair. "What's there to +talk about, then? You know what we were doing." + +"In general, yes, we do. A good deal was on your tapes. But we need more +detail, and we've got to pick up your companions, you know. It would be +a lot better if we knew where they were." + +"I don't know where they are myself. They're building up their forces, +and working for position. This is just the opening, you see. The real +game won't start for quite a while." + +Lanko laughed shortly. "Frankly, I don't think it will start. But it +would make it simpler for all concerned if you'd help us find the +players." + +"I told you. I don't know where they are. They don't have to tell the +referee every move they make, unless they want a consultation as to +legality. I was just keeping watch on the general picture, to see that +neither of them broke a rule, or took an unfair advantage." + +"You may not know where they are," Lanko admitted, "but you can +certainly contact them." + +Genro Kir smiled tightly. "But I won't." + +"They'll be hunted down, you know. We'll have them eventually. Be a lot +easier for all concerned if you'd coöperate." + +"Coöperate with a bunch of half savage natives, against my own friends? +Don't be more stupid than you have to be!" + +"I see." Lanko glanced away. "All very ethical, of course. Well, in that +case, we'll have to go to work." He pulled a fine chain from a case at +his belt, and walked over to his captive, weapon ready. + +"Just hold still," he ordered. He slipped the delicate looking necklace +over the man's head, squeezed the pendant, and jumped back. + +"I don't know whether you're familiar with this device," he said, "so +I'll explain it to you. It's a type ninety-two gravitic manacle, and is +designed to hold any known being. You can move about freely, so long as +you don't make any sudden or violent motion. The device is keyed to my +shield, and you'll suffer temporary paralysis if you get within my near +zone. You're safe enough a couple of meters from me." He walked back to +the control console. + +"Oh, yes," he added, "don't try to take it off. It's designed to prevent +that action by positive means. It won't do you any permanent damage, but +it can make you pretty uncomfortable. And, remember, if it becomes +necessary, I can activate the manacle. It'll put you into full paralysis +and send out a strong homing signal." + +Genro Kir looked at him sourly. "I won't try to escape," he promised. + +"That's immaterial to me." Lanko flicked switches and the ship rose from +the ground, swung, and started westward. "I was merely describing the +capabilities of the manacle." + + * * * * * + +On the way over the sea, Lanko noted the positions of a few of the +trading ships, and approached them closely, examining them. As he +approached a small archipelago, his communicator screen brightened. + +"Resident Guardsman to Sportster. Identity yourself. Over." + +Lanko picked up the microphone. "It's all right, Ban. Got one. Two more +to go." + +"Fair enough. Come on in. I've got a beam on you." + +Lanko checked the approach scope. The small circle was a trifle out of +center. He touched the control bar, and as the circle centered, he +snapped a switch and sat back. + +The sportster dipped over an island, crossed a narrow lagoon, and +settled to the ground beside the guard flier. Lanko started pulling +tools from his kit. Working carefully, he removed the cover from the +control console, examined the terminal blocks, then attached a small +cylinder between two terminals. + +He closed the console again and walked over to the exit port, where he +pressed the emergency release. The port swung wide. For an instant, the +control console was blurred. Lanko waited, then as the panel returned to +focus, he walked back to it. He snapped the drive switch on and pushed +the drive to maximum. Nothing happened. He punched the emergency power +button, and waited an instant. There was no result. He nodded to his +prisoner. + +"Come on, Genro Kir. We may want you to talk to someone." He pointed to +the port. Kir hesitated, then went through. He managed a sneer as he did +so. + +The port of the flier opened, and Banasel looked out. "Need any help?" + +"No. This spaceship won't fly till someone from Sector comes out to pull +the block." Lanko pointed. "This is Genro Kir. He was refereeing a sort +of battle game between a couple of his companions." + +Lanko herded Kir in front of him, and entered his own flier. He placed +the equipment kit on a shelf, and sat down. Banasel perched on his +workbench. + +"What kind of a setup did these jokers have?" + +"Well, you can review the tapes later and get a few of the details, but +here's the general idea: + +"Genro Kir and his two companions made planetfall some years back. They +didn't know it was a discovered planet, and failed to note any evidence +of our presence. Somehow, we missed them, too, for which we should hang +our heads. + +"Anyway, they checked the planet, found it was suitable to their +purpose, and decided that Koree Buron and Sira Nal could use it as a +playing board. Seems they had a bet on, and their last game was +inconclusive. Both of the involved civilizations collapsed. + +"Each of them selected a portion of the habitable part of the eastern +continent as a primary base. Buron took the east, and that left the west +to Nal. It so happens that the central portion of the continent is +difficult to pass, and that fitted in with their plans. You remember the +desert and mountain ranges, of course? Well, so far as I can discover, +there was virtually no contact before the arrival of these three prizes +of ours. And after their arrival, they made sure that there would be no +contact--not until they wanted it. + +"Of course, deserts can be crossed, and mountains can be climbed, but +our three boys fixed it so it would be fatal for any native to try it. +Then, each of the two contestants set to work to build up the war +potential of his part of the continent. + +"In the meantime, Genro was acting as referee. He's been checking the +progress of the two contestants, and making sure that neither of them +sneaks into the territory of the other to upset something, or commits +any other breach of rules." + +Banasel slid off his bench. "Atmosphere of mutual trust, I see." + +"Precisely." + +"Where do the Kondaran priests come in?" + +"Oh, those two aren't going to confine the final stage of their game to +the one continent. That's just the starting point--the home base. And +what they're doing now is just the opening of the game. The end game +will decide control of the entire planet. Sira Nal's just getting off to +an early start, that's all." + +"This is legitimate, according to their rules?" + +"I guess so. According to Kir's tapes, he thinks it's a clever maneuver. +'Sound move' is the way he expressed it." Lanko stood and walked over to +the reproducer set. "That all came from the tapes, of course." + +"How much more has Kir told you?" + +"As little as possible." + + * * * * * + +Banasel looked toward the prisoner. "Why not coöperate? You're due for +Aldebaran anyway. And a little help now would make it easier for you and +your partners later." + +Genro Kir's lip curled. "As I told your friend, I don't have to lower +myself to work with a bunch of low-grade primitives." + +"See what I mean?" Lanko slanted an eyebrow at Banasel. "But I think our +friend here will help us some, anyway. That 'sound move' he recorded is +almost sure to catch us one of the players." + +"Oh?" + +"Sure. What's the whole foundation of this cult of Kondaro?" + +"Why, they navigate ships. They keep strict security on their methods. +They enforce that security by terrorism. They claim that no one else can +successfully cross the Great Sea, and it seems to be a proven fact that +they're right. So, they collect from seamen, traders, and shipowners." + +"That's right. And they claim that only they can overcome the spells and +actions of the sea demons, which try to destroy any ship that sails the +sea. First, though, they navigate ships. They guarantee to get 'em +across the sea and back. Right?" + +Banasel nodded. + +"Suppose they start losing ships? Suppose that from now on, no ship +returns to port?" Lanko walked over to the control console. + +"Hey, wait a minute. I know these priests are a bunch of pirates--or +some of them are, at any rate. But we can't--" + +"Who said anything about destroying life?" Lanko spread his hands. "We +have here a fairly nice group of islands," he pointed out. "Not too +spacious, of course, and not possessed of any luxurious cities. But +there's water, and fresh fruits are available in plenty. The ships are +provisioned fairly well, but they generally put in here for those very +fruits. So, all we need do is give a little unwanted help." + +"Shipwreck?" + +"Something like that." + +Banasel shook his head doubtfully. "It'll take a long time to undermine +their reputation that way," he objected. "And we'd have a lot of people +on these islands before we were through." + +"I don't think so. Kondaro's a god, remember? And gods are infallible. +Sira Nal can explain a few disappearances by accusations of irreverence, +but he'll know better than to try explaining too many that way. I should +imagine that the normal losses due to unexpected storms just about use +up his allotment along that line." + +[Illustration] + +Lanko shook his head. "No, Sira Nal's going to have to do something to +prevent any rumor to the effect that the sea god is losing his grip." He +paused. "And what ship do you think I spotted standing this way?" + +"Oh, no! That's too much of a coincidence." + +"No, not really. We took considerable time gathering in our boy here." +Lanko inclined his head toward Genro Kir. "And the _Bordeklu's_ home +port is Tanagor, so Musa's old ship wouldn't spend too much of a layover +in Kneuros. They're on schedule all right. You'd like to see your old +friend, Dontor, again, wouldn't you, Musa? Sort of watch him try to save +his ship in a real emergency?" + +Musa grinned wolfishly. "Might be fun, at that," he agreed. + + * * * * * + +Dontor strode firmly toward the ladder leading to the observation deck. +The slaves had rigged the screen, and the priest looked proudly about +this ship of which he was the actual and absolute master. Slowly, in +majestic silence, he mounted the ladder and passed through the opening +in the curtain. + +He went to the middle of the forecastle, and stopped, waiting until the +two junior priests had taken their positions near him and the slaves had +set down the equipment chests. The slaves straightened, and stood, arms +folded, waiting. Dontor inspected the area, then moved his head +imperiously. + +"Very good," he said. "Take your posts." + +As the slaves left, the three priests opened their instrument chests, +removing navigational tools. Alnar went to the folding table, spread the +chart over it, then took his watch out of the chest and stood back, +holding it. + +"Just about time, sir." + +"Very well." Dontor glanced at the juniors, saw that Kuero had his +sextant ready, and raised his own. + +"Now," he instructed, when the readings were complete, "you will each +calculate our position independently. I'll check your work when you have +finished." He replaced his sextant in its case, then headed the small +procession back to the cabins. + +The ship's routine continued its uneventful course. The junior priests +reported to Dontor with their calculations. Their work was examined, +criticized, and finally approved. They were given further instructions. +All was well aboard the _Bordeklu_. + +The chief priest examined the charts and decided on the course for the +next watch. The ship, he thought, would have to put in for water. And +some of the island fruits would go well on the table. He set a course +accordingly, and went topside to give instructions to the pilot. + + * * * * * + +_"Are you going to help them on their way?"_ + +_"It's not necessary, unless they start to by-pass the island. They'll +have plenty to worry about when they try to anchor."_ + + * * * * * + +Ahead of the ship, the sea was calm. No cloud marred the bright blue +overhead. Slowly, a vague shape formed on the horizon, then it grew, to +become a small, wooded island. + +The ship continued on its course, approaching the bit of land, and +neared the breaker line. Orders sounded sharply, and the sails +collapsed, spilling their wind. A crew forward cut the snubbing line, +and the bow anchor splashed into the water. + +The ship continued, and the anchor cable became taut. In defiance of the +helmsman's efforts, the ship continued on a straight course. The bow +line stretched, then loosened a little, as the anchor dragged. Still, +the ship refused to swing. Hurriedly, the crew aft dropped the stern +anchor. But the ship persisted on its course. All hands forward took +shelter as the bow cable snapped and whipped viciously across the deck. +The ship maintained its slow progress. + +Frantically, the crew backed the sails, hoisting them to take all the +wind possible. The helmsman spun the wheel in a final effort to turn the +ship back to sea, then cast a glance astern at the taut cable, and +ducked for shelter. + +Sea anchors were hastily thrown overside, but still the ship approached +the beach. The keel grated on sand, and the ship continued to move +forward, as though, tired of the sea, it had decided to return to the +forest. At last, wedged among the trees, the vessel stopped, far above +the sands of the beach. + +It was obviously there to stay. + +Dontor stood, looking seaward. He shook his head, looked forward, then +down at the ground beneath the ship. This was outside his experience. It +was also outside the teaching so carefully instilled in his mind in the +classrooms back at Tanagor, and later during those long days and nights +when he was a junior priest. He had been taught to speak of sea demons, +and to explain their actions, but he had not been told to believe in +them. + +He wondered if the great Kondaro really existed, and if he did, just +what he might think of Dontor and of the ship he had so recently +controlled. The thought crossed his mind that a real god might be +somewhat critical of the priesthood of the sea. + +"Something," he mused aloud, "will have to be done to prevent loss of +faith." + + * * * * * + +_"Well," remarked Lanko as he snapped the tractor off. "That's the first +handful of sand for the cook pot."_ + + * * * * * + +Sira Nal drummed impatiently on the table before him. + +"I thought you could handle routine operations," he said bitingly. "Now, +you tell me you've been missing ship after ship. What happened to them?" + +The high priest shook his head. "We haven't been able to find out, sir." + +"Do you mean to tell me you haven't anything to report on them?" + +"We have sent out investigating ships, sir." + +"And?" + +"They haven't reported back, sir." + +Sira Nal's checks paled slightly with rage as he stared at his +underling. + +"Miron," he snapped, "I'm not going to tell you exactly what to do, or +how. You're supposed to know how to treat emergencies, not to call me +any time something outside of routine happens. I want a report on those +ships tomorrow morning." He glanced out of the window. "I don't care how +you do it, but find out what happened, and I don't ever want to hear you +admit again that you can't account for any ship I ask about. Is that +clear?" + +Miron nodded unhappily. "Yes, sir." He bowed and backed out of the room. + +He forced himself to suppress his anger as he gently closed the door. +Then, he stood for a moment, fists clenched, as he directed a furious +gaze at the panels. + +"How?" he thought. "How does he expect me to know what's going on at sea +unless ships come in to give me information, or I am able to go out +personally. And how does he expect me to make a personal check in one +night?" + +He started walking along the corridor. "I have no supernatural powers, +and he knows it. He's the prophet. Wish I'd never--" + +He looked at the walls around him, then shook his head. No use thinking +of that. None had ever successfully left the service of Kondaro. He +continued to a stair, mounted it, then climbed ladders, to finally come +out at the observation platform atop the temple. The observer bowed as +his superior entered the little room just below the torch. + +"Have there been any arrivals?" + +"None, sir. I've seen no sails." + +"I am going to send you an acolyte. If you see anything, send him to me +immediately." Miron turned to go back to his quarters. + + * * * * * + +After Miron's departure, Sira Nal sat for a time, still staring at the +closed door. He had caught the wave of frustrated rage, and had almost +responded for a second. But, he was forced to admit, the priest had +justification. He had organized his forces adequately--had been a useful +piece, within his limitations. + +"I wonder," mused Sira Nal, "if Buron's pulling a sneak punch." He +tilted his head. "It would be a little foul, but he might try something +like that." He reviewed the rules they had agreed upon. + +After all, this phase of his operation was outside of the home zone, and +he was actually vulnerable to attack, even this early. He had assumed +that Buron would be too busy developing his own pieces to spend any time +on an offensive move at this stage. Of course, direct intervention was a +little unethical, but Buron might try it. + +He had thought his opponent would be too occupied to notice a move at +this remote part of the board. And he had established this advance base +by direct intervention, too. If Buron had noticed, and if he had checked +Nal's methods, he might have felt justified, and have taken time for a +quick, disruptive move. And Sira Nal was forced to admit that such a +move might be allowed by Kir. It might be even approved, and hailed as a +brilliant counter. + +He rose to his feet, pacing about the room. If this were a move by +Buron, the priesthood would be powerless to counter. It would take +direct action by the player, of course. He grumbled to himself. + +"Can't let this development be wasted. I'd lose too much time. I'll have +to check personally." + +He crossed to the window, opened it, and stepped out on the balcony. + +Outside, the sun glinted on the harbor. A ship was standing out to sea, +sails set to pick up the breeze from the headland. Sira Nal looked over +toward the shipyards. It was a well organized secondary base, and it +would probably develop into a highly valuable position. Somehow, he +doubted that Buron would have been able to do as well, considering the +time factor. He shook his head. This must be retained. + +He threw the robe back, checked his equipment belt, adjusted his body +shield, and stepped off the balcony, activating his levitation +modulator. He swung around the outgoing ship, noting the activity aboard +with approval, then headed seaward, to follow the route he had +prescribed for his navigators. Somewhere out there, he would undoubtedly +find Buron, poised to strike at any ship which bore the red and gold of +Kondaro. + +And when he did find him, he knew, he would have to outline a counter +move which would force immunity to his sea lanes. He considered the +possibilities as he sped over the sea. + + * * * * * + +Musa sat before the detector, idly watching the vague patterns that grew +and collapsed on the viewscreen. The scanner, Lanko had explained, +picked up ghost images from heated air masses, or from clouds, but it +discriminated against them, refusing to form a definite image unless a +material body came within range. Then, it indicated range and azimuth, +checked the body against the predetermined data, and the selective +magnification circuits cut in. + +As Musa watched, a sea bird appeared on the screen, outlined sharply +against the darkness of the sea. The viewscreen tracked it for an +instant, then continued its scan. Another body showed, seeming to come +from under the sea. Musa looked at it curiously, then noticed that the +range marks had tripped on. The screen was holding the object at center. +A slight glow appeared, obscuring visual detail, and more marks showed +in the legend. Musa turned around. + +"Banasel," he called, "what's this?" + +Banasel was engaged in his usual pastime of tinkering with the +equipment. He looked around, then walked quickly over to the screen, to +make adjustments. The object came into sharp focus, revealing itself as +a man in the robes of Kondaro. Range and azimuth lines became clearly +defined, and a graph showed in the legend space. Banasel glanced down at +the dials. + +"Hey, Lanko," he called, "we've got a customer." + +"Where?" Lanko came out of the mess compartment. + +"About seventy-one, true, and coming in fast. Range, about a hundred +K's." Banasel twisted dials, watching the result on the screen. "Looks +as though our friend's coming in for a conference." + +"Screens?" + +"Personal body shield. Probably a Morei twelve. Nothing special." + +Lanko got into the gunner's chair and punched a button. The sight screen +lit, showing the approaching body clearly. He turned a knob, increasing +magnification. + +"All dressed up in his ceremonial robes, too," he laughed. "This kid +could have done well as a clothing designer." + +He adjusted a few knobs, examining a meter. Then, he reached for the +weapon's grip. + +"No point in discussing matters with him now. He can talk after we get +him in, and he's just about in range now." He brought the hair-lines on +the viewscreen to center on the approaching figure, and squeezed the +grip. + + * * * * * + +Sira Nal felt the sudden pressure. Annoyed, he reached to his belt, to +turn his shield to full power. This was highly unethical. Buron should +certainly know better than to resort to personal attack. Such action +could be protested, and Sira Nal could demand concessions. + +He looked ahead, searchingly. The horizon ahead was broken by a faint +cloud, which indicated the islands, but there was no evidence of his +opponent. He shook his head, and started to rise, but his shield was +failing. Suddenly, he became aware of the overheating generator pack. +Something was decidedly wrong. He reached for his own hand weapon, still +searching for his attacker. At last, he noticed a slight shimmer, dead +ahead. He pointed the weapon. + +"Now, now," cautioned a voice, "you could get hurt that way. Close down +your shield and relax. This is a guard flier. You're in arrest tractor." + +Sira Nal recognized that the tractor was pulling him ahead. His +generator pack was heating up dangerously. + +He was being captured! + +Furiously, he thought of the attacks he had made in similar manner, in +this same area. He still could remember the horrified expression on one +shipowner's face just before his ship broke to bits under him. + +They wouldn't get him, though. + +They couldn't. + +He would blast them out of his path. Just as he had blasted the +presumptuous natives who opposed him. + +Thumbing the hand weapon to full blast, he centered it on the faint +shimmer ahead, and squeezed the trigger. + +Let the meddlers look out for themselves. + + * * * * * + +Banasel winced a little as the fireball spread, then rose skyward, to +form a large cloud. + +"You could have relaxed," he protested. "The blast wouldn't have jolted +our screen too much, and you could have gotten him again." + +"I know." Lanko flicked off the gunnery switches and leaned back, +rubbing his head. "There was a possibility, and I fully intended to +relax. But the decision time was short, and frankly, those thoughts of +his overrode me for just too long. That boy was dangerous!" + +He turned to Genro Kir, who was looking with horrified fascination at +the still growing cloud in the screen. + +"It's unfortunate. We'll try to get your other partner alive." + +"You destroyed him!" Kir looked a little sick. + +"No. We didn't destroy him. He should have known better than to fire +into a tractor. I'll have to admit, I did slip a little. I assumed he +was the usual type of drone. I didn't recognize the full extent of his +aberration." + +Lanko got out of his chair, and crossed the room, to confront the +prisoner. + +"Look, Kir. I don't know whether your other partner's like that one or +not. But I think it's about time you helped a little. If you had given +us clues to Sira Nal's personality and probable location, we might have +been able to take precautions. He might be with us now. Or, do you enjoy +seeing your friends turn themselves into flaming clouds of smoke?" + +"You mean I ... I'm responsible ... for that?" + +"Partially. You helped them. You refused any assistance in their +capture. And you knew they were going to be captured, one way or +another." + +Kir directed a horrified look at the screen. + +"What can I do?" + +"Get in contact with Koree Buron. Tell him what happened here. Tell him, +too, that we're looking for him, and that there is a Sector Guardsman +due to join us within a few hours. Explain to him that there will be +direction-finders on him very soon, and that any effort he may make to +use his body shield, his weapons, or even his thought-radiations, will +be noted, and will lead to him. + +"Once you establish contact, we will ride in, if you wish. And we can +assure him that he'll be either hunted down promptly, or he will have to +assume and accept the role of a native--and a very inconspicuous, +uninfluential native, at that. + +"Tell him that he is free to come to us and surrender at any time within +the next twenty hours, planetary. After that, he will be taken by the +most expedient means. After the surrender deadline, you can assure him +that his life will be of less importance to us, and to the Sector +Guardsman, than that of the most humble native. + +"Here's your mental amplifier, if you need it." + +Genro Kir looked at the proffered circlet, then slowly extended a hand. +He took the device, turned it around in his hands for a few moments, +then put it on. + +Suddenly, his face set in decision, and he sat quietly for a while, grim +faced. At last, he looked up. + +"I got him. He argued a little, but he had a poor argument, and he knew +it. He'll be here within an hour, screens down." + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + +This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ April 1955. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright +on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors +have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Players, by Everett B. 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Cole + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1 {text-align: left; + clear: both; + margin-top: 2em;} + h2 {text-align: left; + clear: both; + margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0; text-align: center;} + + .zerop {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + + .trans2 {background-color: #E6E6FA; color: inherit; + margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: left;} + .trnhd {margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em;} + + img {margin:0; padding:0; display:block; border:none;} + + .czerop {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Players, by Everett B. Cole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Players + +Author: Everett B. Cole + +Illustrator: Solo + +Release Date: August 29, 2007 [EBook #22426] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLAYERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>THE<br />PLAYERS</h1> + +<h2>BY EVERETT B. COLE</h2> + +<p><i><big>A Playboy</big> is someone with power, too much<br /> +time on his hands, and too little sense of a goal<br /> +worth achieving. And if the Playboy happens<br /> +to belong to a highly advanced culture....</i></p> + +<p class="zerop"><small>Illustrated by Solo</small></p> + + +<p>Through the narrow streets leading +to the great plaza of Karth, swarmed +a colorful crowd—buyers, idlers, +herdsmen, artisans, traders. From all +directions they came, some to gather +around the fountain, some to explore +the wineshops, many to examine the +wares, or to buy from the merchants +whose booths and tents hid the +cobblestones.</p> + +<p>A caravan wound its way through +a gate and stopped, the weary beasts +standing patiently as the traders +sought vacant space where they might +open business. From another gate, a +herdsman guided his living wares +through the crowd, his working animals +snapping at the heels of the +flock, keeping it together and in motion.</p> + +<p>Musa, trader of Karth, sat cross-legged +before his shop, watching the +scene with quiet amusement. Business +was good in the city, and his +was pleasingly above the average. +Western caravans had come in, exchanging +their goods for those eastern +wares he had acquired. Buyers +from the city and from the surrounding +hills had come to him, to exchange +their coin for his goods. He +glanced back into the booth, satisfied +with what he saw, then resumed his +casual watch of the plaza. No one +seemed interested in him.</p> + +<p>There were customers in plenty. +Men stopped, critically examined the +contents of the displays, then moved +on, or stayed to bargain. One of these +paused before Musa, his eyes dwelling +on the merchant rather than on +his wares.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 208px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="208" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The shopper was a man of medium +height. His rather slender, finely featured +face belied the apparent heaviness +of his body, though his +appearance was not actually abnormal. +Rather, he gave the impression +of being a man of powerful physique +and ascetic habits. His dress was that +of a herdsman, or possibly of an +owner of herds from the northern +Galankar.</p> + +<p>Musa arose, to face him.</p> + +<p>"Some sleeping rugs, perhaps? Or +a finely worked bronze jar from the +East?"</p> + +<p>The stranger nodded. "Possibly. +But I would like to look a while if +I may."</p> + +<p>Musa stepped aside, waving a +hand. "You are more than welcome, +friend," he assented. "Perhaps some +of my poor goods may strike your +fancy."</p> + +<p>"Thank you." The stranger moved +inside.</p> + +<p>Musa stood at the entrance, watching +him. As the man stepped from +place to place, Musa noted that he +seemed to radiate a certain confidence. +There was a definite aura of power +and ability. This man, the trader decided, +was no ordinary herdsman. He +commanded more than sheep.</p> + +<p>"You own herds to the North?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>The stranger turned, smiling. +"Lanko is my name," he said. "Yes, +I come from the North." He swept +a hand to indicate the merchandise +on display, and directed a questioning +gaze at the merchant. "It seems +strange that your goods are all of the +East. I see little of the West in all +your shop."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Normally, Musa kept his own +council, assuming that his affairs were +not public property, but his alone. +There was something about this man, +Lanko, however, which influenced +him to break his usual reticence.</p> + +<p>"I plan a trading trip to the Eastern +Sea," he confided. "Of course, +to carry eastern goods again to the +East would be a waste of time, so I +am reserving my western goods for +the caravan and clearing out the +things of the East."</p> + +<p>Lanko nodded. "I see." He pointed +to a small case of finely worked +jewelry. "What would be the price +of those earrings?"</p> + +<p>Musa reached into the case, taking +out a cunningly worked pair of shell +and gold trinkets.</p> + +<p>"These are from Norlar, a type of +jewelry we rarely see here," he said. +"For these, I must ask twenty balata."</p> + +<p>Lanko whistled softly. "No wonder +you would make a trip East. I +wager there is profit in those." He +pointed. "What of the sword up +there?"</p> + +<p>Musa laughed. "You hesitate at +twenty balata, then you point out +that?"</p> + +<p>He crossed the tent, taking the +sword from the wall. Drawing it +from its scabbard, he pointed to the +unusually long, slender blade.</p> + +<p>"This comes from Norlar, too. But +the smith who made it is still farther +to the east, beyond the Great Sea." +He gripped the blade, flexing it.</p> + +<p>"Look you," he commanded, "how +this blade has life. Here is none of +your soft bronze or rough iron from +the northern hills. Here is a living +metal that will sever a hair, yet not +shatter on the hardest helm."</p> + +<p>Lanko showed interest. "You say +this sword was made beyond the +Great Sea? How, then, came it to +Norlar and thence here?"</p> + +<p>Musa shook his head. "I am not +sure," he confessed. "It is rumored +that the priests of the sea god, Kondaro, +by praying to their deity, are +guided across the sea to lands unknown."</p> + +<p>"Taking traders with them?"</p> + +<p>"So I have been told."</p> + +<p>"And you plan to journey to Norlar +to verify this rumor, and perhaps +to make a sea voyage?"</p> + +<p>Musa stroked his beard, wondering +if this man could actually read +thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted, "I had that +in mind."</p> + +<p>"I see." Lanko reached for the +sword. As Musa handed it to him, he +extended it toward the rear of the +booth, whipping it in an intricate +saber drill. Musa watched, puzzled. +An experienced swordsman himself +he had thought he knew all of the +sword arts. The sword flexed, singing +as it cut through the air.</p> + +<p>"Merchant, I like this sword. +What would its price be?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Musa was disappointed. Here was +strange bargaining. People just didn't +walk in and announce their desire +for definite articles. They feigned indifference. +They picked over the +wares casually, disparagingly. They +looked at many items, asking prices. +They bargained a little, perhaps, to +test the merchant. They made comments +about robbery, and about the +things they had seen in other +merchants' booths which were so +much better and so much cheaper.</p> + +<p>Slowly, and with the greatest reluctance, +did the normal shopper approach +the object he coveted.</p> + +<p>Then, here was this man.</p> + +<p>"<i>Well</i>," Musa told himself, "<i>make +the most of it</i>." He shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Nine hundred balata," he stated +definitely, matching the frank directness +of this unusual shopper, and +incidentally doubling his price.</p> + +<p>Lanko was examining the hilt of +the sword. He snapped a fingernail +against its blade. There was a musical +<i>ping</i>.</p> + +<p>"You must like this bit of metal +far better than I," he commented +without looking up. "I only like it +two hundred balata worth."</p> + +<p>Musa felt relief at this return to +familiar procedure. He held up his +hands in a horrified gesture.</p> + +<p>"Two hundred!" he cried. "Why, +that is for the craftsman's apprentices. +There is yet the master smith, +and those who bring the weapon to +you. No, friend, if you want this +prince of swords, you must expect +to pay for it. One does not—" He +paused. Lanko was sheathing the +weapon, his whole bearing expressing +unwilling relinquishment.</p> + +<p>Musa slowed his speech. "Still," +he said softly, "I am closing out my +eastern stock, after all. Suppose we +make it eight hundred fifty?"</p> + +<p>"Did you say two hundred fifty?" +Lanko held the sheathed sword up, +turning to the light to inspect the +leather work.</p> + +<p>The bargaining went on. Outside, +the crowds in the street thinned, as +the populace started for their evening +meals. The sword was inspected and +re-inspected. It slid out of its sheath +and back again. Finally, Musa +sighed.</p> + +<p>"Well, all right. Make it five hundred, +and I'll go to dinner with +you." He shook his head in a nearly +perfect imitation of despair. "May +the wineshop do better than I did."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Housewife, this is Watchdog. +Over."</p> + +<p>The man at the workbench looked +around. Then, he laid his tools aside, +and picked up a small microphone.</p> + +<p>"This is Housewife," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Coming in."</p> + +<p>The worker clipped the microphone +to his jacket, and crossed the room +to a small panel. He threw a switch, +looked briefly at a viewscreen, then +snapped another switch.</p> + +<p>"Screen's down," he reported. +"Come on in, Lanko."</p> + +<p>An opening appeared in the wall, +to show a fleeting view of a bleak +landscape. Bare rocks jutted from the +ice, kept clear of snow by the shrieking +wind. Extreme cold crept into +the room, then a man swept in and +the wall resumed its solidity behind +him.</p> + +<p>He stood for an instant, glancing +around, then shrugged off a light +robe and started shedding equipment.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Pal," he was greeted. "How +are things down Karth way?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing exceptional." Lanko +shrugged. "This area's getting so +peaceful it's monotonous." He unsnapped +his accumulator and crossed to +the power generator.</p> + +<p>"No wars, or rumors of wars," he +continued. "The town's getting moral—very +moral, and it's developing +into a major center of commerce in +the process." He kicked off his sandals, +wriggled out of the baggy native +trousers, and tossed his shirt on +top of them.</p> + +<p>"No more shakedowns. Tax system's +working the way it was originally +intended to, and the merchants +are flocking in."</p> + +<p>He walked toward the wall, flicking +a hand out. An opening appeared, +and he ducked through it.</p> + +<p>"Be with you in a minute, Banasel," +he called over his shoulder. +"Like to get cleaned up."</p> + +<p>Banasel nodded and went back to +the workbench. He picked up a small +part, examined it, touched it gently +a few times with a soft brush, and +replaced it in the device he was working +on.</p> + +<p>He tightened it into place, +and was checking another component +when a slight shuffle announced his +companion's return.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Lanko. "Met your +old pal, Musa. He's doing right well +for himself."</p> + +<p>Banasel swung around. "Haven't +seen him since we joined the Corps. +What's he doing?"</p> + +<p>"Trading." Lanko opened a locker, +glancing critically at the clothing +within. "He set up shop with the +load of goods we gave him long ago, +and did some pretty shrewd merchandising. +Now, he's planning a +trip over the Eastern Sea. He hinted +at a rumor of a civilization out past +Norlar."</p> + +<p>"Nothing out there for several +thousand kilos," growled Banasel, +"except for a few little islands." He +jerked a thumb toward the workbench. +"I can't show you right now, +because the scanner's down for cleaning, +but there isn't even an island +for the first couple thousand K's. +Currents are all wrong, too. No one +could cross without navigational +equipment."</p> + +<p>"I know," Lanko assured him. +"We haven't checked over that way +for a long time, but I still remember. +I didn't put it exactly that way, +of course, but I did ask Musa how +he planned to get over the Eastern. +And, I got an answer." He paused +as he gathered up the garments he +had discarded.</p> + +<p>"It seems there's a new priesthood +at Norlar, who've got something," +he continued. "It's all wrapped up in +religious symbology, and they don't +let any details get out, but they are +guiding ships out to sea, and they're +bringing them back again, loaded +with goods that never originated in +the Galankar, or in any place accessible +to the Galankar." He hung up +the last article of clothing and turned, +a sheathed sword in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Musa sold me this," he said, extending +the hilt toward Banasel. "I +never saw anything like it on this +planet. Did you?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Banasel accepted the weapon, +drawing it from its scabbard. He +examined the handwork on the hilt, +then snapped a fingernail against the +blade. As he listened to the musical +<i>ping</i>, the technician looked at the +weapon with more interest. Gently, +he flexed it, watching for signs of +strain. Lanko grinned at him.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," he invited, "get rough +with it. That's a sword you're holding, +Chum, not one of those bronze +skull busters."</p> + +<p>Banasel extended the sword, +whipping it violently. The blade bent, +then straightened, and bent again, as +it slashed through the air.</p> + +<p>"Well," he murmured. "Something +new."</p> + +<p>He put the sword on the workbench +and took an instrument from +a cabinet. For a few minutes, he +busied himself taking readings and +tapping out data on his computer. +He sat back, looking at the sword +curiously. At last, he glanced at the +computer, then put the test instrument +he had been using back in the +cabinet, taking another to replace it. +After taking more readings, he looked +at the computer, then shook his +head, turning to Lanko.</p> + +<p>"This," he said slowly, "is excellent +steel. Of course, it could be an +accidental alloy, but I wouldn't think +anyone on this planet could have developed +the technology to get it just +so." He held the sword away from +him, looking at it closely. "Assuming +an accidental alloy, an accident +in getting precisely the right degree +of heat before quenching, and someone +who ground and polished with +such care as to leave the temper undisturbed, +while getting this finish—Oh, +it's possible, all right. But 'tain't +likely. Musa told you this came from +overseas?"</p> + +<p>"To the best of his knowledge. He +got it from a trader who claimed to +have been on a voyage across the +Eastern Sea."</p> + +<p>Banasel leaned back, clasping his +hands behind his head. "You must +have had quite a talk with Musa. +Did he remember you?"</p> + +<p>Lanko shook his head. "Don't be +foolish," he grunted. "You and I +were blotted out of his memory, remember? +So are quite a few of the +things that happened around Atakar, +way back when. He's got a complete +past, of course, but we're not part of +it.</p> + +<p>"No, he had a booth in the Karth +market. I came through, just looking +things over, and recognized him. So, +I picked an acquaintance. Beat him +down to about half the asking price +for this sword, still leaving him a +whopping profit. He went to dinner +with me, still bewailing the rooking +I'd given him. Told you, he's a +trader. We had quite a talk, certainly. +But we were strangers."</p> + +<p>"Yeah." Banasel looked off into +space. "Seems funny. You and I were +born on this planet. We were +brought up here, and a lot of people +once knew us. But they've all forgotten, +and we don't belong any +more. I'm beginning to see what they +mean by 'the lonely life of a guardsman.'"</p> + +<p>He was silent for a time, then +looked at his companion.</p> + +<p>"Do you think these priests at +Norlar might be in our line of business?"</p> + +<p>"Could be," nodded Lanko. +"There's a lot of seafaring out of +Konassa, and there are several other +busy seaports we know of. But no +one in any of them ever heard of +navigation out of sight of land, let +alone trying it. There's nothing but +pilotage, and even that's pretty +sketchy. And, there's this thing." He +crossed to the workbench, picked up +the sword, and stroked its blade.</p> + +<p>"Normally," he mused, "technical +knowledge gets around. Part of it's +developed here, part there. Then +someone comes along and puts it together. +And someone else adds to it. +And so on.</p> + +<p>"Then, there are other times, when +there's an abnormal source, or where +there are unusual conditions, and +knowledge is very closely guarded. +This might be one of those cases, and +those priests might be fronting for +someone very much in our line of +business." He broke off.</p> + +<p>"Any maedli hot?"</p> + +<p>"Sure." Banasel picked a pot from +the heater and poured two cups.</p> + +<p>"Think we should set up a base near +Norlar and have a look?"</p> + +<p>"Probably be a good idea." Lanko +accepted a cup, took a sip, and shook +his head violently.</p> + +<p>"Ouch! I said hot, not boiling." +He blew on the cup and set it aside +to steam itself cool.</p> + +<p>"These mountains were an excellent +base," he continued, "but this +area seems to be developing perfectly. +There's no outside interference, +all traces of former interference +have been eliminated, and there's +very little excuse for us to hang +around." He picked up the cup +again, cautiously sampling its contents. +"And it's about time we moved +around and checked on the rest of +the planet."</p> + +<p>Banasel turned back to the workbench. +"Good idea," he agreed. "I'll +get this scanner set up again, and +we'll be ready to load out." He +picked up his tools. "As I remember, +Norlar has a mountainous backbone +where no one ever goes. We should +be able to set up right on the island."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On the eastern slope of the Midra +Kran, a cloud of dust paced a caravan, +which wound up the trail, +through a pass. The treachery of the +narrow path was testified to by an +occasional slither, followed by a +startled curse.</p> + +<p>Musa stood in his stirrups, looking +ahead at the long trail which +twisted a little farther up, then dropped +to the wide Jogurthan plateau. +Far ahead, over the poorly marked +way, he knew, was another range, +the Soruna Kran, which blocked his +way to the Eastern Sea.</p> + +<p>He looked back at the straggling +caravan.</p> + +<p>"Better get them to close up, +Baro," he remarked. "We'd be in a +lot of trouble if a robber band caught +us scattered like this."</p> + +<p>The other trader nodded and +turned his mount. Then, he paused +as shouts came from the rear of the +line. Mixed with the shouting was +the clatter of weapons.</p> + +<p>"Come on," cried Musa. "It's +happened."</p> + +<p>He kicked his mount in the ribs, +and swung about, starting up the +steep bank. The bandits would have +bowmen posted to deal with anyone +who might try to get back along the +narrow path, and he had no desire +to test the accuracy of their aim.</p> + +<p>As his beast scrambled up the +bank, Musa saw a man standing on +a pinnacle, alertly watching the center +of the caravan. His guess had +been right. The bandit leader's +strategy had been to cut the caravan +in two, and to deal with the rear +guard first. As the watcher started to +aim at something down on the trail, +Musa quickly raised his own bow +and sent an arrow to cut the man +down before he could fire.</p> + +<p>It was a good shot. The man +made no sound as the arrow struck, +but clawed for an instant at the shaft +in his side, then dropped, to slide +down the face of a low cliff. Musa, +followed by his guards, stormed up +the slope.</p> + +<p>They went through a saddle in the +hill, to find themselves confronted +by a half dozen men, who swung +about, trying to bring their bows to +bear on the unexpected targets. Two +of these went down as arrows sang +through the air, then the traders were +upon the rest, swords flailing, too +close for archery.</p> + +<p>One of the bandits swung his +sword wildly at Musa, who had +drawn a twin to that blade he had +sold back in Karth. The slender shaft +of steel rang against the bandit's +bronze blade, deflecting it, then +Musa made a quick thrust which +passed through the man's leather +shield, to penetrate flesh. The bronze +weapon sagged, and its holder staggered. +Musa jerked back violently, +disengaged his sword, and made a +swift cut. For an instant, the bandit +sat his mount, staring at his opponent. +Then, he slumped, and rolled +loosely from his saddle.</p> + +<p>The action had been fast. Only +one bandit, a skilled swordsman, remained, +to keep Baro busy. Musa +rode quickly behind him, thrusting +as he passed. Baro looked across the +limp body.</p> + +<p>"Now, what did you have to do +that for?" he demanded. "I was having +a good time."</p> + +<p>"Let's get down to the trail again," +Musa told him. "We can have a +wonderful time there." He pointed.</p> + +<p>The caravan's rear guard was in +trouble. Several of them were in the +dust of the trail, and the survivors +were being pressed by a number of +determined swordsmen.</p> + +<p>Baro wheeled and slid down the +incline, closely followed by the rest +of the group.</p> + +<p>The surrounded bandits fought +desperately, but hopelessly. The +charge from the hill had driven +them off balance, and they were +never given a chance to recover. At +last, Musa and Baro looked over the +results of the raid.</p> + +<p>They had lost several guards. One +trader, Klaron, had been killed by +an arrow launched early in the attack. +Several of the survivors were +wounded.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to hire some more +guards and drivers in Jogurth," said +Baro. "And what are we going to +do about Klaron's goods?"</p> + +<p>"We can divide them and sell +them in Jogurth," Musa told him. +"Klaron has a brother back in Karth +who can use the money, and money's +a lot easier to carry than goods. +You'll see him on your return trip."</p> + +<p>Baro nodded, and started up the +line, reorganizing the caravan. At +last, they got under way again, and +resumed their slow way toward the +plateau.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The caravan went on, to enter the +plateau, where the traders started +resting by day and traveling by night, +to avoid exertion during the day's +heat.</p> + +<p>They came to the city of Jogurth, +which for most of them was a terminal. +From there, they would return +to Karth, a few possibly going +on to their homes still farther west. +Musa stayed in town for a few days, +trading his few remaining eastern +goods for locally produced articles, +and helping in the sale of Klaron's +goods. At last, he joined another +caravan, headed by an old trader, +Kerunar, who habitually traveled between +Jogurth and Manotro, on the +east coast.</p> + +<p>The trip across the Soruna Kran +was uneventful, and Musa finally +saw the glint of the Eastern Sea. He +did not stay long in Manotro, for he +discovered that the small channel +ships traveled frequently, and he was +able to guide his pack beasts to the +wharf, where his bales were accepted +for shipment. Leaving his goods, he +led his animals back to the market.</p> + +<p>Old Kerunar shook his head when +he saw Musa. "Be careful, son," he +cautioned. "I've been coming here +for twenty years. Used to trade in +Norlar, too. But you couldn't get me +over there now for ten thousand +caldor."</p> + +<p>"Oh?" Musa looked at him +curiously. "What's wrong?"</p> + +<p>Kerunar looked at his newly set +up booth. Hung about it were durable +goods and trinkets from a dozen +cities. There were articles even from +far-off Telon, in the Konassan gulf. +He looked back at Musa.</p> + +<p>"Norlar," he declared, "has fallen +into the hands of thieves and murderers. +You can trade there, to be +sure. You can even make a profit. +But you cannot be sure you will not +excite the avarice of the Kondarans, +or arouse their anger. For they have +a multitude of strange laws, which +they can invoke against anyone, and +which they enforce with confiscation +of goods. Death or slavery await any +who protest their actions or question +their rules." He paused.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 411px;"> +<img src="images/002a.png" width="411" height="217" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="figright" style="width: 210px;"> +<img src="images/002b.png" width="210" height="382" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Some manage to trade, and come +back with profitable bales. Some +leave their goods in the hands of the +priests of Kondaro. Some remain, to +find a quick death. But I stop here. +I prefer to deal with honorable men. +When I face the thief or the bandit, +I prefer to have a weapon in my +hand. A book of strange laws can be +worse than any bandit born."</p> + +<p>Musa looked about the market. +"Here, of course," he acknowledged, +"are the goods of the Far East. But +I must see them at their source." He +shook his head. "No," he decided, +"I shall make one trip at least."</p> + +<p>"I'll give you just one word of +caution, then," he was told. "Whatever +you see, make little comment. +Whenever you are asked for an offering, +make no objection, but give +liberally. Keep your eyes open and +your opinions to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Thanks." Musa grinned. "I'll try +to remember."</p> + +<p>"Don't just remember. Follow the +advice, if you wish to return."</p> + +<p>Musa's grin widened. "I'll be +back," he promised.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The harbor of Tanagor, chief seaport +of Norlar, was full of shipping. +Here were the ships which plied the +trackless wastes of the Eastern Sea. +Huge, red-sailed, broad-beamed, they +rode at anchor in the harbor, served +by small galleys from the city. Tied +up at the wharves, were the smaller, +yellow and white-sailed ships which +crossed the channel between the +mainland and the island empire.</p> + +<p>Slowly, Musa's ship drew in toward +the wharf, where a shouting +gang of porters and stevedores +awaited her arrival. Together with +other passengers, Musa stood at the +rail, watching the activity on the +pier.</p> + +<p>Four slaves, bearing a crimson +curtained litter, came to the wharf +and stopped. The curtains opened, +and a man stepped out. He was not +large, nor did his face or figure differ +from the normal. But his elegantly +embroidered crimson and gold +robes made him a colorfully outstanding +figure, even on this colorful +waterfront. And the imperious +assurance of his bearing made him +impossible to ignore.</p> + +<p>He adjusted his strangely shaped, +flat cap, glanced about the wharf +haughtily, and beckoned to one of +the slaves, who reached inside the +litter and took from it an ornately +decorated crimson chest. Another +slave joined him, and the two, carrying +the chest with every evidence of +reverent care, followed their crimson-cloaked +master as he strode into a +pier office.</p> + +<p>Musa turned to one of the other +merchants, his eyebrows raised inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"A priest of Kondaro," whispered +the other. "In this land, they are +supreme. Take care never to anger +one of them, or to approach too +closely to the sacred chest their slaves +carry. To do so can mean prompt +execution."</p> + +<p>As Musa started to thank the man +for his friendly warning, a cry of +"Line Ho!" caused him to turn his +attention to the mooring parties. +Lines had been cast aboard at bow +and stern, and the ship was rapidly +being secured to stout bollards +ashore.</p> + +<p>A gang of stevedores quickly +rigged a gangway amidships, and +porters commenced streaming aboard +to carry the cargo ashore. Another +gangway was rigged aft for the passengers. +At the foot of this, stood +one of the priest's litter bearers, a +slave with a crimson loincloth. In his +hands, he held a large, red bowl, +which was decorated with intricate +gold designs. Beside him, stood his +companion, a sturdy, frowning fellow, +who held a large, strangely +shaped sword in his hand. Musa's +previous mentor leaned toward him +nodding to the group.</p> + +<p>"Don't forget or fail to put a coin +in that bowl," he cautioned. "Otherwise, +you'll never get passage on one +of the sacred ships."</p> + +<p>"How much?" queried Musa.</p> + +<p>"The more, the better. If you want +quick passage across the Great Sea, +better make it at least ten caldor."</p> + +<p>Musa shrugged, reaching into his +purse for a gold coin.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I should be in the priesthood +myself, instead of the trading +business," he told himself silently.</p> + +<p>As he passed the bowl, he noted +that the other trader dropped only a +silver piece. On the wharf, the incoming +passengers were being guided +into groups. Musa noted that his +group was the smallest, and that his +previous friend had gone to another, +larger group. An official, tablet in +hand, approached.</p> + +<p>"Your name, Traveler?"</p> + +<p>"Musa, trader, of Karth."</p> + +<p>"You have goods?"</p> + +<p>"I brought twelve bales. They are +marked with my name."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir. We will hold +them for your disposal. You may +claim them at any time after mid-day." +The man wrote rapidly on his +tablet.</p> + +<p>Musa thanked him, then turned +to see how his shipboard acquaintance +was progressing. He had questions +to ask about gold and silver +coins.</p> + +<p>He watched the older merchant +complete his conversation with an +official, and, as he started to leave +the wharf, quickly caught up with +him. At Musa's approach, the other +held up a hand.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said. "Why did I +tell you to make a generous offering, +then put a smaller coin in the bowl +myself? That is what you want to +know?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," Musa replied. "I'm +not a poor man, but I'm not a +wealthy holiday seeker, either. This +voyage has to pay."</p> + +<p>The other smiled. "Exactly why I +advised you as I did. Come into this +wineshop, and I'll tell you the +story."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Over the drinks, the older man +explained himself. An experienced +trader, he had been operating between +the mainland and Norlar for +many years. It had been a profitable +business, for the island had been dependent +upon the mainland for +many staple items, and had in return +furnished many items of exquisite +craftsmanship, as well as the +produce of its extensive fisheries and +pearl beds.</p> + +<p>Then, the prophet, Sira Nal, had +come with his preachings of a great +sea god, Kondaro, ruler of the Eastern +Sea. Tonda told of the unbelief +that had confronted the prophet, and +of the positive proof that Sira Nal +had offered, when he had gathered +a group of converts, collected +enough money to purchase a ship, +and made a highly successful voyage +to the distant lands to the east. Upon +his return, Sira Nal had found a +ready market for the strange and +wonderful products he had brought. +He also had found many more converts +for his new religion.</p> + +<p>His original group, now a priesthood, +were the only men who could +give protection and guidance to a +ship in a voyage past the sea demons +who frequented the Eastern Sea, and +they demanded large offerings to +compensate for their services. Of +course, a few adventurous shipowners +had attempted to duplicate Sira +Nal's feat without the aid of a priest, +but no living man had seen their +ships or crews again.</p> + +<p>The profits from the rich, new +trade, plus the alms of the traders +visiting Tanagor, had rapidly filled +the coffers of Kondaro. A great +temple had been built, and the priests +had become more and more powerful, +until now, not too many years +after the first voyage of Sira Nal, +they virtually ruled the island.</p> + +<p>For some years, Tonda, a conservative +man and a firm believer in +his own ancestral gods, had paid +little attention to this strange, new +religion. Upon arrival at Tanagor, +to be sure, he had sometimes placed +small offerings in the votive bowl, +but more often, he had merely +strode past the Slave of Kondaro, +and gone upon his affairs.</p> + +<p>At last, however, attracted by the +great profits in the new, oversea +trade, he had decided to arrange for +a voyage in one of the great ships. +Then, the efficiency of the priestly +bookkeeping methods had become +apparent. The Great God had become +incensed at Tonda's impiety +during his many previous trips across +the channel, and a curse had been +placed upon him and upon his goods. +Of course, if Tonda wished to do +penance, and to make votive offerings, +amounting to about two thousand +caldor, it might be that the +Great God would relent and allow +his passage, but only with new +goods. His former possessions had +been destroyed by the angry Kondaro +in his wrath at Tonda's attempts +to place them in one of the sacred +ships. Empty-handed, Tonda had returned +to the mainland.</p> + +<p>"But why did you return with +more goods?" inquired Musa.</p> + +<p>Tonda smiled. "The wrath of +Kondaro extends only to the Great +Sea. And, even though I cannot go +farther east, trade here in Tanagor +is quite profitable." He paused, +smiling, as he sipped his drink.</p> + +<p>"I think the priests like having a +few penitents around to explain +things to newcomers, and to furnish +examples of the power of Kondaro."</p> + +<p>Musa smiled in response. "But +my ten caldor make me and my +goods acceptable?"</p> + +<p>Tonda looked around quickly, +then turned a horrified face toward +his protégé.</p> + +<p>"Never say such things," he cautioned +in a low tone of voice. "Don't +even think them. Your piety makes +you acceptable, so long as you continue +in a way pleasing to the great +Kondaro. The money means nothing. +It is only the spirit of sacrifice +that counts."</p> + +<p>"I see." Musa's face was solemn. +"And how else may I be sure I will +remain acceptable?"</p> + +<p>Tonda nodded approvingly. "I +thought you were a man of good +sense and prudence." He launched +into a description of the technicalities +of the worship of Kondaro, the +god of the Eastern Sea.</p> + +<p>At length, Musa left his tutor, and +repaired to an inn, where he secured +lodging for the night.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The following morning, in obedience +to the advice given him by +Tonda, Musa took his way toward +the Temple of the Sea. As he threaded +through the crowds already +gathering in the streets, he took note +of the types of merchandise displayed +in the booths, and hawked +by the street peddlers. Suddenly, one +of these roving sellers approached +him. In his hands he held a number +of ornaments.</p> + +<p>"Good day to you, oh Traveler," +he cried. "Surely, it is a fortunate +morning for both of us." With a +deft gesture, he threw one of the +trinkets, a cunningly contrived amulet, +about Musa's neck.</p> + +<p>Musa would have brushed the +man aside, but the chain of the +amulet had tangled about his neck +and he was forced to pause while +removing it.</p> + +<p>"I told myself when I saw you," +the man continued, "ah, Banasel, +here is one who should be favored +by the gods. Now, how can such a +one venture upon the Eastern Sea +without a sacred amulet?"</p> + +<p>Musa had slipped the chain over +his head. He paused, holding the +ornament in his hand. "How, then, +are you to know where I am going?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Illustrious Traveler," exclaimed +the man, "how can I fail +to know these things when it is given +to me to vend these amulets of great +fortune?"</p> + +<p>In spite of himself, Musa was +curious. He looked at the amulet. +There was no question as to the superb +workmanship, and his trading +instincts took over.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is a fair piece of +work," he said. "Possibly I could +spare a caldor or so."</p> + +<p>The man before him struck his +forehead.</p> + +<p>"A caldor, he says! Why, the gold +alone is worth ten."</p> + +<p>Musa looked more closely at the +ornament. The man was probably +not exaggerating too much. Actually, +he knew he could get an easy twenty-five +balata for the bauble in Karth. +A rapid calculation told him that +here was a possible profit from the +skies.</p> + +<p>"Why, possibly it is worth five, at +that," he said. "Look, I'll be generous. +Shall we say six?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, prince of givers! Thou paragon +of generosity! After all, I, too, +must live." The man smiled wryly. +"However, you are a fine, upstanding +young man, and one must make +allowance. I had thought to ask +twenty, but we'll make it ten. Just +the price of the gold."</p> + +<p>Musa smiled inwardly. The profit +was secured, but maybe—</p> + +<p>"Let's make it eight, and I'll give +you my blessing with the money."</p> + +<p>The man held out his hand. +"Nine."</p> + +<p>Musa shrugged. "Very well, most +expert of vendors." He reached into +his purse.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Banasel hesitated before accepting +the money. He looked Musa over +carefully, then nodded as if satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said softly, "I was +right." He paused, then addressed +himself directly to Musa.</p> + +<p>"We must be very careful to +whom we sell these enchanted amulets," +he explained, "for they are +talismans of the greatest of powers. +The wearer of one of these need +never fear the unjust wrath of man, +beast, or demon, for he has powerful +protectors at his call. Only wear +this charm. Never let it out of your +possession, and you will have nothing +to fear during your voyage. +Truly, you will be most favored."</p> + +<p>He looked sharply at Musa again, +took the money, glanced at it, and +dropped it into a pouch.</p> + +<p>"Do you really believe in the +powers of your ornaments, then?" +Musa asked skeptically.</p> + +<p>Banasel's eyes widened, and he +spread his arms. "To be sure," he +said in a devout tone. "How can I +believe else, when I have seen their +miraculous workings so often?" He +held up a hand. "Why, I could spend +hours telling you of the powers these +little ornaments possess, and of the +miracles they have been responsible +for. None have ever come to harm +while wearing one of these enchanted +talismans. None!" He spread his +arms again.</p> + +<p>Musa looked at him curiously. "I +should like to hear your stories some +day," he said politely.</p> + +<p>He felt uncomfortable, as many +people do when confronted by a confessed +fanatic. His feelings were divided +between surprise, a mild +contempt, and an unease, born of +wonder and uncertainty.</p> + +<p>Obviously, the man was not especially +favored. He was dressed like +any street peddler. He had the +slightly furtive, slightly brazen air +of those who must avoid the anger, +and sometimes the notice, of more +powerful people, and yet, who must +ply their trade. But he talked grandly +of the immense powers of the +baubles he vended, seeming to hold +them in a sort of reverence. And, +when he had spread his arms, there +had been a short-lived hint of suppressed +power. Musa shuddered a +little.</p> + +<p>"But I must go to the temple +now, if I am to make arrangements +for my voyage," he added apologetically. +He turned away, then hurried +down the street.</p> + +<p>Banasel watched him go, a slight +smile growing on his face.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame you, Pal," he +chuckled softly. "I'd feel the same +way myself."</p> + +<p>He glanced around noting a narrow +alley. Casually, he walked into +it, then looked around carefully. No +one could observe him. He +straightened, dropping the slightly +disreputable, hangdog manner, then +reached for his body shield controls.</p> + +<p>Quickly, he cut out visibility, then +actuated the levitator modulation +and narrowed out of the alley, rose +over the city, and headed toward the +rugged mountains that formed the +backbone of the island.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Lanko was waiting, and quickly +lowered the base shield.</p> + +<p>"Well," he asked, "how did it +go?"</p> + +<p>"I found him." Banasel walked +over to the cabinets, and started sorting +the goods he had been carrying. +"Sold him a miniature communicator. +Now, I hope he wears the +thing."</p> + +<p>"We'll have to keep a close watch +on him," commented Lanko, "just in +case he puts it in his luggage and +forgets about it. Did you give him a +good sales talk?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Told him to wear it always. +I pawed the air, raved a little, and +made him think I was crazy. But +I've an idea he'll remember and grab +the thing if he sees trouble coming." +Banasel put the last ornament in its +place, and started unhooking his +personal equipment. Then, he +turned.</p> + +<p>"Look," he commented, "why +bother with all this mystic business? +We've got mentacoms. Why not just +clamp onto him, and keep track of +him that way? It'd be a lot simpler. +Less chance of a slip, too."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, sure it would." Lanko gave +his companion a disgusted look. +"But have you ever tried that little +trick?"</p> + +<p>"No. I never had the occasion, +but I've seen guardsmen run remote +surveillances, and even exert control +when necessary. They didn't +have any trouble. We could try it, +anyway."</p> + +<p>Lanko sat up. "We could try it," +he admitted, "but I know what +would happen. I did try it once, and +I found out a lot of things—quick." +He looked into space for a moment. +"How old are you, Banasel?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you know that. I'm forty-one."</p> + +<p>Lanko nodded. "So am I," he said. +"And our civilization is a few thousand +years old. And our species is +somewhat older than that. We were +in basic Guard training, and later +in specialist philosophical training +together. It took ten years, remember?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. I remember every minute +of it."</p> + +<p>"Of course you do. It was that +kind of training. But how old do you +think some of those young guardsmen +we worked with were?"</p> + +<p>"Why, most of 'em were kids, +fresh from school."</p> + +<p>"That they were. But how many +years—our years—had they spent in +their schooling? How old were the +civilizations they came from? And +how old were their species?"</p> + +<p>Lanko eyed him wryly.</p> + +<p>Banasel looked thoughtfully across +the room. "I never thought of it that +way. Why, I suppose some of their +forefathers were worrying about +space travel before this planet was +able to support life. And, come to +think of it, I remember one of them +making a casual remark about 'just +a period ago,' when he was starting +citizen training."</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean." Lanko +nodded emphatically. "'Just a period.' +Only ten or twelve normal lifetimes +for our kind of people. And +his civilization's just as old compared +to ours as he is compared to +us—older, even.</p> + +<p>"During that period he was so +casual about, he was learning—practicing +with his mind, so that the +older citizens of the galaxy could +make full contact with him without +fear of injuring his mentality. He +was learning concepts that he wouldn't +dare even suggest to you or to +me. Finally, after a few more periods, +he'll begin to become mature. +Do you think we could pick up all +the knowledge and training back of +his handling of technical equipment +in a mere ten years of training?"</p> + +<p>Banasel reached up, taking the +small circlet from his head. He held +it in his hand, looking at it with increased +respect.</p> + +<p>"You know," he admitted, "I +really hadn't thought of it that way. +They taught me to repair these +things, among other pieces of equipment, +and most of the construction +is actually simple. They taught me +a few uses for it, and I thought I +understood it.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I knew we were in +contact with an advanced culture, +and I knew that most of those guys +we treated so casually had something +that took a long time in the getting, +but I didn't stop to think of the real +stretch of time and study involved." +He leaned back, replacing the mentacom +on his head. "Somehow, they +didn't make it apparent."</p> + +<p>"Of course they didn't." Lanko +spread his hands a little. "One doesn't +deliberately give children a feeling +of inferiority."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Will we ever learn?"</p> + +<p>"Some. Some day. But we've got +a long, lonely road to travel first." +Lanko stood up and adjusted the +communicator.</p> + +<p>"Right now, though, we'd better +keep tabs on Musa. In fact, we'd better +follow him when he leaves here."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The temple of Kondaro, the sea +god, had been built at the edge of a +cliff, so that it overlooked the Eastern +Sea. The huge, white dome +furnished a landmark for mariners +far out at sea, and dominated the +waterfront of Norlar. Atop the +dome, a torch provided a beacon to +relieve the blackness of moonless +nights. This was the home of the +crimson priests, and the center of +guidance for all who wished to sail +eastward.</p> + +<p>Musa stood for some time, admiring +the temple, then walked between +the carefully clipped hedges and up +the long line of steps leading to the +arched entrance.</p> + +<p>Again, he stopped. Overhead, the +curved ceiling of the main dome was +lower than its outer dimensions +would lead one to believe, but Musa +hardly noticed that. He gazed about +the main rotunda.</p> + +<p>It was predominantly blue. The +dome was a smooth, blue sky, and +the smooth blueness continued down +the walls. The white stone steps +were terminated at the edges of a +mosaic sea, which stretched to the +far walls, broken only by a large +statue of the sea god. Kondaro stood +in the center of his temple, facing +the entrance. One arm stretched out, +the hand holding a torch, while the +other arm cradled one of the great +ships favored by the god. Beneath +one foot was one of the batlike sea +demons, its face mirroring ultimate +despair. About the feet lapped conventionally +sculptured waves, which +melted into the mosaic, to be continued +to the walls by the pattern of +the tiles. At the far side of the rotunda, +the double stairs, which led +to bronze doors, were almost inconspicuous, +seeming to be a vaguely +appearing mirage on the horizon of +a limitless sea.</p> + +<p>The trader looked at the far side, +then down, and hesitated, feeling as +though he were about to walk on +water. Then, he turned, remembering +the pedestal nearby. A crimson +bowl rested on this stand, and beside +it was a slave in the crimson loincloth +which marked the menials of +Kondaro.</p> + +<p>Musa stepped over to the pedestal, +dropped a coin into the bowl, and +walked toward the rear of the temple, +making proper obeisance to the +huge statue. A young priest approached +him.</p> + +<p>"I crave blessings for a voyage I +propose to take," announced the +trader.</p> + +<p>The priest inclined his head.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Traveler, follow me."</p> + +<p>He led the way to a small office. +An older priest sat at a large table, +reading a tablet. Conveniently placed +were writing materials, and on the +table before him was another votive +bowl. Musa dropped a coin into the +bowl, and the priest looked up.</p> + +<p>"I bring a voyager, O, Wise One," +said the young priest.</p> + +<p>"It is well," the older priest acknowledged +in a deep voice. He +turned to Musa. "Your name, Voyager?"</p> + +<p>Musa gave his name, his age, the +amount of his goods, and an account +of his actions since his arrival in +Tanagor. At the mention of Tonda, +the priest nodded.</p> + +<p>"The actions of Tonda have been +most exemplary for the past several +seasons," he remarked. "He is a good +man, but he lacks the proper spirit +of sacrifice." He concluded his writing.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Musa, you may go +to those who sail ships with the +blessing of Kondaro upon you. I +shall only caution you as to the observance +of the rites and laws for +those who sail the Great Sea. Go +now, in peace."</p> + +<p>As Musa turned, the younger +priest spoke. "I will lead you to one +who will give you further guidance," +he said.</p> + +<p>Musa followed him to another +small room, where he met still another +priest. This man, he discovered, +was a shrewd trader in his own right. +He was familiar with goods and their +values, and in addition to the rites +he described, he presented definite +advice as to what to take and what +to leave behind. Fortunately, Musa +discovered as he talked to this priest, +he had picked very nearly as good a +selection as he could wish.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/003.png" width="600" height="266" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>During the days that followed, +Musa made more votive offerings, +practiced the rites ordered by the +priest, and watched his goods as they +were delivered to the <i>Bordeklu</i>, a +ship belonging to Maladro, beloved +of Kondaro, a shipowner whose +ships were permitted by the sea god +and his priests to sail the Eastern +Sea.</p> + +<p>At last, the day arrived when +Musa himself boarded the ship and +set sail past the headland of Norlar.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As the ship was warped out of the +harbor, Musa took stock of his fellow +passengers. Among them were a +slender, handsome man named +Ladro, who had been on many previous +voyages to the land of the +East, and Min-ta, a native of the +eastern continent, who was returning +from a trading voyage to Norlar. +There were several others, but they +kept to themselves, seeming to radiate +an aura of exclusiveness. Ladro +and Min-ta on the other hand, were +more approachable.</p> + +<p><i>Surely</i>, thought Musa, <i>these two +can teach me a great deal of the +land I am to visit, if they will</i>.</p> + +<p>He walked over to the rail, where +the two stood, looking out over the +shoreline. The ship was coming +abreast of the great temple of Kondaro.</p> + +<p>"It's the most prominent landmark +on the island, isn't it?" Musa +commented.</p> + +<p>"What?" Ladro turned, looking +at him curiously. "Oh, yes," he said, +"the temple. Yes, it's the last thing +you see as you leave, and the first +when you return." He paused, examining +Musa. "This is your first trip?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. I've always traded +ashore before this."</p> + +<p>"But you finally decided to visit +Kneuros?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I've dealt with a few traders +who had goods from there, and their +stories interested me."</p> + +<p>Ladro smiled. "Romance of the +far places?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's that, too," Musa +admitted, "but I'm interested in +some of the merchandise I've seen."</p> + +<p>"There's profit in it," agreed +Ladro. "How long have you been +trading around Norlar?"</p> + +<p>"This is my first trip. I'm from +Karth, in the Galankar."</p> + +<p>"You mean you were never in +Norlar before?" Min-ta joined the +conversation.</p> + +<p>Musa shook his head. "I left +Karth for the purpose of trading +east of the Great Sea."</p> + +<p>"Unusual," mused Min-ta. "Most +traders work between Tanagor and +the mainland for several years before +they try the Sea."</p> + +<p>"Yes," added Ladro, "and some +never go out. They satisfy themselves +with the channel trade." He pointed. +"We're getting out to the open sea +now, past the reef."</p> + +<p>The ship drew away from the island +kingdom, setting its course toward +the vague horizon. The day +wore on, to be replaced by the extreme +blackness of night. Then, the +sky lit up again, heralding another +day.</p> + +<p>The ship's company had settled +to sea routine, and the traders +roamed about their portion of the +deck, talking sometimes, or napping +in the sun. Musa leaned over the low +rail, watching the water, and admiring +the clear, blue swells.</p> + +<p>He raised his head as the door of +the forward cabins opened. A priest, +followed by a group of slaves, went +up to the raised forecastle. Under +the priest's direction, the slaves +busied themselves putting up a high, +crimson and yellow curtain across +the foredeck. They completed their +task and went below.</p> + +<p>Again, the door opened, and a +procession, headed by the chief +priest, slowly mounted the ladder +to the forecastle. Each of the three +priests was followed by his slave, +who bore a crimson casket. The curtain +closed behind them, then the +slaves came out and ranged themselves +across the deck, facing aft.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Musa, turning +to Ladro, "what ritual they are performing."</p> + +<p>Ladro shook his head. "The less +a man knows of the activities of the +priests, the better he fares," he declared. +"Truly, on a great ship, +curiosity is a deadly vice."</p> + +<p>Musa nodded to the stern. "I see +that one of the priests is not at the +bow."</p> + +<p>"That is right. One priest always +remains by the steersman, to ward +off the spells of the sea demons." +Ladro paused, pointing overside. +"See," he said in a pleased tone, +"here is an envoy from Kondaro."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Musa's gaze followed the pointing +finger. A huge fish was cruising +alongside, gliding effortlessly through +the waves, and occasionally leaping +into the air.</p> + +<p>"An envoy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. So long as a kontar follows +a ship, fair weather and smooth sailing +may be expected. They are sent +by Kondaro as guardians for those +ships he especially favors."</p> + +<p>At a call from the priest in the +stern, two sailors appeared, carrying +chunks of meat. As the priest chanted, +they tossed these overside. The +great fish rose from the water, catching +one of the chunks as it fell, then +dropped back, and the water frothed +whitely as he retrieved the other. He +gulped the meat, then swam contentedly, +still pacing the ship.</p> + +<p>"Suppose someone fell overboard?" +Musa gazed at the kontar in +fascination.</p> + +<p>Ladro and Min-ta exchanged +glances.</p> + +<p>"If one is favored by the Great +One," replied Min-ta slowly, "it is +believed that the kontar would guard +him from harm. Otherwise, the sacrifice +would be accepted."</p> + +<p>Musa looked at the clear water, +then glanced back to the spot of +foam which drew astern.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I'll try any swimming +from the ship." He backed +slightly from the rail, glancing quickly +at Ladro and Min-ta, then looking +away again.</p> + +<p>He suddenly realized that he had +exceeded his quota of questions, and +that he could get into trouble. He +had noted that most of the ship's +company appeared to know the other +traders aboard, even though some of +them hadn't been to sea before. Min-ta +and Ladro were obviously well +acquainted with several of the ship's +officers. But he, Musa, was a +stranger.</p> + +<p>He had already observed that the +priesthood of Kondaro was not +averse to a quick profit, and that they +placed a low value on the lives and +possessions of others. He had dealt +with tribes ashore, who had the simple, +savage ethic:</p> + +<p>"He is a stranger? Kill him! Take +his goods, and kill him."</p> + +<p>Ashore, he had protected himself +during his many trips by consorting +with other traders of good reputation, +and by hiring guards. But +here? He remembered the remarks +made by Kerunar back in Manotro.</p> + +<p>"When I face the thief or the +bandit, I prefer to have a weapon +in my hand."</p> + +<p>Slowly, he collected himself, and +looked back at Ladro and Min-ta.</p> + +<p>"If you gentlemen will excuse +me," he apologized, "I have some +accounts to cast, so I believe I'll go +to my quarters." He turned and went +below.</p> + +<p>As he disappeared down the ladder, +Ladro turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said thoughtfully, +"if all goes well, this man will be +most favored. But if the Great One +shows signs of displeasure—"</p> + +<p>Min-ta nodded. "Yes," he agreed, +"I have heard of strangers who excited +the wrath of Kondaro." His +eyes narrowed speculatively. "Those +of the faithful who keep watch on +such unfavored beings are rewarded +by the priests, I am told."</p> + +<p>Ladro nodded. "I believe that is +correct," he agreed. "We should be +watchful for impiety in any event." +He stretched. "Well, I think I shall +take a short nap before dinner."</p> + +<p>Below, the traders' quarters were +cramped. There was a small, common +space, with a table, over which +hung the single light. About the +bulkheads were curtained recesses, +sufficiently large for a bunk and with +barely enough space for the occupant +to stand. Musa closed the curtains, +and sat down on his bunk.</p> + +<p>Of course, he had no proof. There +was no really logical sequence to +prove that the situation was dangerous. +There was no evidence that his +fellow voyagers were other than +honorable, well-intentioned men. +But he simply didn't feel right. He +pulled his wooden chest from under +the bunk, opened it, and looked +through the small store of personal +effects.</p> + +<p>There was no weapon. The law of +Kondaro forbade the carrying of +those by other than the priests and +their slaves. His attention was attracted +by a glitter, and he picked +up the small amulet he had bought +from the peddler in Norlar. Slowly, +he turned it in his hands.</p> + +<p>It was an unusual ornament, +strangely wrought. He had never +seen such fine, regular detail, even in +the best handicraft. As he looked +closer, he could not see how it could +have been accomplished with any of +the instruments he was familiar +with, yet it must have been hand +made, unless it were actually of supernatural +origin.</p> + +<p>He remembered the urgent seriousness +of the peddler's attitude, and he +could recall some of his words. The +man had spoken almost convincingly +of powerful protectors, and Musa +could foresee the need of such. He +found himself speaking.</p> + +<p>"Oh, power that rests in this +amulet," he said, "if there is any +truth in the peddler's words, I—" +He paused, his usual, hard, common +sense taking over.</p> + +<p>"I'm being silly!" He drew his +hand back to throw the ornament +into the chest. Then, he felt himself +stopped. An irresistible compulsion +seized him, and he dazedly secured +the amulet about his neck. Feeling +sick and weak, he tucked it into his +garments. Then, still moving in a +daze, he left the cabin and returned +to the deck. He did not so much as +try to resist the sudden desire.</p> + +<p>The breeze made him feel a little +better, but he was still shaken, and +his head ached violently. Little +snatches of undefined memory tried +to creep into his consciousness, but +he couldn't quite bring them into +focus. He turned toward the rail, +and saw Min-ta still there.</p> + +<p>"Well," commented the easterner, +"your accounts didn't take long."</p> + +<p>Musa smiled wanly. "It was stuffy +down there. I felt I had to come up +for some air."</p> + +<p>Min-ta nodded. "It does get close +in the quarters during the day." He +pointed alongside.</p> + +<p>"We are favored still," he said. +"Another kontar has joined us."</p> + +<p>Two of the great fish paced the +ship, gliding and leaping effortlessly +from wave to wave. Musa watched +them.</p> + +<p>"We must be favored indeed."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Min-ta smiled. "May our +favor last."</p> + +<p>Musa's head still ached, and the +glints of the sun reflected from the +water made it worse. He looked aft, +to the faint line where sky met +water. There was a low line of +clouds. His gaze traveled along the +horizon, and he noted that the +clouds seemed a little darker forward. +Still, he felt uneasy, and alone.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>"See what I meant?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"Ooh! Yeah. Yeah, I see. What +a backlash that was! I've got the +grandfather of all headaches, and I +won't be able to think straight for a +week. Wonder how Musa feels—But +I got results, anyway."</i></p> + +<p><i>"Yes. You got results. So did I +once, when I tried something similar. +But I'll live a long time before +I try it again. How about you?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"Don't worry. Next time I try to +exert direct mental control on another +entity, this planet'll have space +travel. Wonder if some klordon tablets'll +help any."</i></p> + +<p><i>"Might. Try one, then let's get +busy and scatter a few more communicators +around that ship. Be more +practical than beating our brains +out."</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As the days passed, Musa became +familiar with the shipboard routine +and lost some of his early uneasiness +regarding his traveling companions. +He became acquainted with other +traders, finding them to be average +men, engaged in the same trade as +himself. He talked to members of +the ship's company, and found them +to be normal men, who worked at +their trade in a competent manner. +Only the four priests held aloof. +Ignoring officers, sailors, and traders +alike, they spoke only to their slaves, +who passed their comments to the +ship's company.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the tenth day, +Musa came to the deck, to find the +sea rougher than usual. Waves rose, +scattering their white plumes for the +wind to scatter. Ahead, dark clouds +hid the sky, and occasional spray +came aboard, spattering the deck and +the passengers.</p> + +<p>Just outside the cabin entrance, a +small knot of traders were gathered. +As Musa came out, they separated.</p> + +<p>Musa went over to the rail, looking +overside at the waves. The two +kontars were not in sight. He looked +about, noting the sailors, who hurried +about the deck and into the +rigging, securing their ship for foul +weather. Close by, Ladro and Min-ta +were talking.</p> + +<p>"It is quite possible," said Ladro, +"that someone aboard has broken a +law of the great Kondaro, and the +kontars have gone to report the sin." +He glanced at Musa calculatingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Min-ta, "we—"</p> + +<p>An officer, hurrying along the +deck, stopped. "All passengers will +have to go below," he said. "We're +in for bad weather, and don't want +to lose anyone overboard."</p> + +<p>"Could this be the wrath of +Kondaro?" asked Ladro.</p> + +<p>The officer glanced at him questioningly. +"It could be, yes. Why?"</p> + +<p>Again, Ladro cast a look at Musa, +then he caught the seaman by the +arm, pulling him aside. The two engaged +in a low-toned conversation, +directing quick glances at Musa. At +last, the officer nodded and went aft, +to approach one of the slaves of +Kondaro.</p> + +<p>Musa started across the deck to +the ladder, his heart thudding painfully. +Surely, he thought, he had +done nothing to offend even the most +particular of deities. Yet, the implications +of Ladro's glances and his +conversation with the ship's officer +were too obvious for even the +dullest to misinterpret. Musa took +a long, shuddering breath.</p> + +<p>His fears on that other day had +been well grounded, then.</p> + +<p>He gazed at the lowering sky, +then out at the waves. Where could +a lone, friendless man find help in +this waste of wind and water?</p> + +<p>Slowly, he climbed down the ladder +leading to his tiny cubicle.</p> + +<p>Once inside, he again started +checking over his personal items. +There was nothing there to help. +Hopelessly, he looked at the collection +in the chest, then he got out a +scroll of prose and went to the central +table to read in an effort to clear +his mind of the immediate circumstances.</p> + +<p>Minutes later, he went back to his +bunk and threw the scroll aside. +Possibly, he was just imagining that +he was the target of a plot. Possibly +there was a real sea god named Kondaro—an +omnipotent sea deity, who +could tell when persons within his +domain were too curious, or harbored +impious thoughts, and who +was capable of influencing the actions +of the faithful.</p> + +<p>Possibly, his opinions of the +priesthood had been noted and had +offended. Or, perhaps, that peculiar +little device he had seen a priest +studying was capable of warning the +god that it had been profaned by an +unsanctified gaze. Possibly, this storm +was really the result of such a warning. +He was sure the priest hadn't +seen him, but it could be that the +device itself might—</p> + +<p>Musa threw himself on his bunk.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A deep voice resonated through +the room.</p> + +<p>"Musa of Karth," it said, "my +master, Dontor, desires your presence +on deck."</p> + +<p>Musa came to his feet. Two of the +slaves of Kondaro stood close by, +swords in hand. One beckoned, +then turned. Musa followed him into +the short passage, and up the ladder. +As they gained the deck, the +small procession turned aft, to face +the senior priest.</p> + +<p>Dontor stood on the raised after +deck, just in front of the helmsman. +The wind tugged at his gold and +crimson robe, carrying it away from +his body, so that it rippled like a +flag, and exposed the bright blue +trousers and jacket. Dontor, chief +priest of the <i>Bordeklu</i>, stood immobile, +his arms folded, his feet braced +against the sway of his vessel. As the +trio below him stopped, he frowned +down at them.</p> + +<p>"Musa, of Karth," he intoned, "it +has been revealed to me that you +have displayed undue curiosity as to +the inner mysteries of the worship +of the Great God. In your conversations, +you have hinted at knowledge +forbidden any but the initiated.</p> + +<p>"You came to us, a stranger, and +we trusted you. But now, we are all +faced with the wrath of the Great +One as a result of your impieties. A +sacrifice, and only a sacrifice, will +appease this wrath. Can you name +any reason why we should protect +you further, at the expense of our +own lives? What say you?"</p> + +<p>Musa stared up at him. The cotton +in his throat had suddenly become +thick, and intensely bitter. Unsuccessfully, +he tried to swallow, and +a mental flash told him that whatever +he said, he was already convicted. +Regardless of what defense he +might offer, he knew he would be +condemned to whatever punishment +these people decided to deal out to +him. And that punishment, he realized, +would be death. He straightened +proudly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, priest," he said thickly, "I +am guilty of no crime. You, however, +are about to commit a serious +crime, which is beyond my power +to prevent." He hesitated, then continued. +"Be warned, however, that if +there are any real gods above or below, +you will receive punishment. +The gods, unlike men, are just!"</p> + +<p>Aware of sudden motion in his +direction, he rapidly finished.</p> + +<p>"So, make your sacrifice, and then +see if you can save your vessel from +the natural forces of wind and +water."</p> + +<p>The priest stiffened angrily.</p> + +<p>"Blasphemy," he said. "Blasphemy, +of the worst sort." He looked +away from Musa. "I believe that in +this case, the Great One will require +the ship's company to deal with you +in their own way, that they may be +purged of any contamination due to +your presence." He raised his arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Great Kondaro, Lord of all +the seas, and the things within the +seas," he began.</p> + +<p>Musa evaded the two slaves with +a quick weave of his shoulders. Covering +the distance to the side of the +ship with a few quick steps, he +jumped over the rail. As he fell, the +wind tore at him, and his windmilling +arms and legs failed to find any +purchase to right him.</p> + +<p>He hit the water with a splash +and concussion that nearly knocked +the breath from his body, and +promptly sank. As the water closed +over his head, he struck out with +hands and feet in an effort to climb +again to light and air. His head +broke the surface, and he flailed the +water in an effort to keep his nose +in air. The ship was drawing away +from him, its storm sails set.</p> + +<p>As he struggled in the water, he +wondered if it was worth while. After +all, he had only to allow himself +to sink, and all his troubles would +be over shortly. Wouldn't it be easier +to do this than to continue torturing +himself with a hopeless fight?</p> + +<p>Too, he wondered if he had been +right in leaving the ship, but he +quickly dismissed that thought. The +sea was impersonal, neither cruel nor +kind. It was far better, he thought, +to surrender to the forces of nature +than to subject himself to the +viciousness of angry men.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, a constraining force +seized him. He instinctively fought +to free himself, then realized that +he was being drawn upward, out of +the water. Possibly, he thought, the +Great One wanted to speak to him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He rose swiftly through the air, +passed through complete darkness +for an instant, then found himself +in a small room. Two men stood +facing him, both of them vaguely +familiar. As his mind refocused, +Musa recognized the peddler of +amulets, then the herder to whom +he had once sold a sword. They +were strangely familiar, but they +were in strange costumes. He stared +at them.</p> + +<p>"Well, Musa," said the herder. "I +see you got into trouble."</p> + +<p>Musa blinked. "Who are you?" +he demanded. "How do you know +of my affairs?"</p> + +<p>The peddler of amulets grinned. +"Why, we are old companions, +Musa," he said. "Of course, you +have forgotten us, but we never forgot +you." He pointed.</p> + +<p>"This is Resident Guardsman +Lanko. I am Banasel, also of the +Stellar Guard. Our job is to prevent +just such situations as the one you +just found yourself in." His grin +faded. "That, and a few other +things."</p> + +<p>Musa frowned. "Stellar Guard? +What is that?"</p> + +<p>Lanko studied him for a moment, +then crossed the small room. "You +knew once," he tossed over his +shoulder, "but you rejected the +knowledge, and it had to be taken +from you. Since you'll be working +with us for a while, I think we will +have to restore your memories. Perhaps +you'll want to retain them." +He removed equipment from a cabinet.</p> + +<p>"Some of this will have to be +secondhand, since neither Banasel +nor myself have been in the spots +shown. But some of it is firsthand."</p> + +<p>His hand flicked a switch.</p> + +<p>A power unit hummed, and Musa +found himself recalling a campsite +near the now destroyed and rebuilt +city of Atakar. As the imposed mental +blocks fell away, he remembered +who Banasel and Lanko were. And +he realized why he had been drawn +to them in the recent past.</p> + +<p>Memories of his days of slavery +in Atakar flashed before his mind, +and he remembered the part these +two had taken in his escape. He recalled +the days of banditry, and the +strange visitors, who had brought +with them disturbing knowledge, and +strange powers.</p> + +<p>He saw the destruction of Atakar, +and the capture of the galactic criminals +who had depraved that city. He +shared the experiences of his two +companions during their introduction +to the advanced culture of the +Galactic Federation, and he saw +snatches of their training at Aldebaran +Base. He went with them on +some of their missions.</p> + +<p>The humming stopped, and he +looked up at the two.</p> + +<p>"So," Lanko told him, "now you +know."</p> + +<p>Musa nodded. "I turned something +down, didn't I?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As Musa disappeared over the vessel's +side, the priest, Dontor, lowered +his arms. Quickly turning the +unscheduled event to advantage, he +cried, "We need worry no further, +my children. The Great One has +called this blasphemer to final account."</p> + +<p>He turned to one of his juniors, +lowering his voice.</p> + +<p>"Go below, Alnar, and break out +this man's goods. We must reward +those who informed us."</p> + +<p>The junior bowed. "Yes, sir." He +hesitated. "Will this storm blow +over soon?" he queried.</p> + +<p>Dontor smiled. "You should have +paid more attention to your course +in practical seamanship," he chided. +"We are sailing fairly close hauled, +so our speed is added to that of the +wind. And, since storms move, it'll +pass us shortly." He pointed to the +horizon.</p> + +<p>"See that small break in the +clouds? That indicates a possibility +of clear weather beyond. We should +be through the worst of the storm +in a matter of a few hours. And we'll +never reach the really dangerous +core of the storm, for we are passing +through an edge of it. Our only +problem is to keep from losing a +mast during the time we are close to +the storm's heart." He paused, looking +aloft.</p> + +<p>"The crew is competent. They +have the sails properly reefed, and, +if necessary, they can furl them in +short order. What trouble can we +have?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir." The younger +priest bowed again. "I will make the +necessary arrangements for those +goods."</p> + +<p>Dontor stood for a moment, surveying +the ship, then walked toward +the helm.</p> + +<p>"If I am ever in charge of operations," +he told himself, "I will replace +some of these sailors by +neophyte priests, and let them steer +by their own compasses. This method +is too cumbersome. Besides, the +neophytes should get to sea earlier, +anyway."</p> + +<p>He approached the pilot priest, +who stood apart from the helmsman, +his slave holding the little red box +with the compass.</p> + +<p>"How is our course?"</p> + +<p>The priest turned, then bowed. +"We are off course twelve degrees +to the north, sir," he reported. "I +have instructed the helmsman to +come as close to the wind as possible."</p> + +<p>Dontor nodded. "Very good," he +approved. "Keep track of your time, +and we'll correct when we get a +chance to shift course to the south. +We can determine whatever final +correction is necessary at noon sight +tomorrow."</p> + +<p>Alnar came up the ladder to the +quarterdeck. Approaching Dontor, +he bowed in salute, then reported.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 244px;"> +<img src="images/004a.png" width="244" height="286" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 453px;"> +<img src="images/004b.png" width="453" height="313" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p>"The goods are ready, sir."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Find those two +traders and give them the usual ten +per cent, then bring me an inventory +of the remainder."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Musa stood, fists clenched, facing +the recorder play-back. "The usual +ten per cent, he says! Why, I'd like +to slaughter the lot of those murdering +thieves!"</p> + +<p>Lanko snapped off the switch. +"Don't blame them too much," he +laughed. "After all, they're only trying +to make a living, and it's the +only trade they know."</p> + +<p>As Musa nearly choked on his attempted +reply, Banasel broke in.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he chuckled. "Besides, it's +guys like them that keep guys like us +in business."</p> + +<p>Lanko noticed the horrified expression +on Musa's face, and quickly +composed himself. He put his +hand on the man's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Look," he explained seriously, +"if we got so we took people like +these to heart, we'd spend half our +time getting psyched to unsnarl our +own mental processes." He gestured +to the reels of tape in a cabinet.</p> + +<p>"Here, we have the records of +hundreds of cases like this one. Some +are worse, some are not so bad. +Every one of them had to be—and +was—cracked by members of our +Corps. This is just another of those +minor, routine incidents that keep +cropping up all over the galaxy. It's +our problem now, and we'll get to +work on it." He turned.</p> + +<p>"Where do you want to start, +Banasel?"</p> + +<p>"Well—competition's the life of +trade."</p> + +<p>"That comes later." Lanko shook +his head. "There's an alien or so to +be taken care of first, you know."</p> + +<p>"I know. It's fairly obvious."</p> + +<p>"So, we've got to find him—or +them."</p> + +<p>Musa had regained his self-control. +"What about these birds in +hand?"</p> + +<p>Banasel shrugged. "Small fry. +We'll take care of them later." He +walked over to the workbench, picking +up Lanko's sword.</p> + +<p>"I wondered about this before," +he said. "Now, I'm sure about it. It +simply doesn't match a normal technology +for this period."</p> + +<p>Musa looked at him curiously. +"But there are a lot of those around +Norlar," he said. "They're a rarity +in the Galankar, to be sure, but—"</p> + +<p>"That's what we mean," Lanko +told him. "Too many anachronisms. +First, we have this sword. Then, we +meet these priests of Kondaro, who +discuss meteorology, navigation, and +pilotage with considerable understanding. +We've had communicators +planted on that ship for several days +now, and I still can't see how the +technology was developed that allowed +the manufacture of some of +their instruments. We should have +noticed something wrong a long +time ago.</p> + +<p>"The priests use sextants, watches, +compasses. And, just to make it +worse, we have one video recording +of a priest laying out a course on +an accurate chart. He was using a +protractor, which was divided into +Galactic degrees. That was the +clincher. Somebody's out of place, +and we've got to find him—or +them."</p> + +<p>He took the sword from Banasel. +"I think we'd better go on to the +eastern continent, see what we can +find, then we can deal with our +friends. But first, Ban, you'd better +run out a call for one of the Sector +Guardsmen to back us up if necessary. +We could run into something +too hot for us to handle."</p> + +<p>Banasel nodded and turned to the +communicator. Lanko dropped into +the pilot seat, glanced at the +screens, and moved controls. In the +viewscreen, the sea tilted, drew farther +away, then became a level, featureless +blue expanse.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Well, here's your eastern continent. +In fact, this is the city of +Kneuros. It's where you wanted to +go, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Musa looked at Banasel thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted. "It's where +I thought I wanted to go, but now +I really know what I wanted in the +first place."</p> + +<p>"Oh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I was restless. I +thought I liked being a trader in +Karth, and I was a fairly good +trader, too. But I was just getting +things at secondhand. I turned down +just what I really wanted, because it +scared me. That was a long time +ago." He looked at the control +panel. He'd understood such panels +once, some years ago.</p> + +<p>"How do you plan to find your +aliens—if there are any?"</p> + +<p>"Search pattern." Lanko shrugged. +"We'll cruise around in a grid +pattern until we pick up some sort +of reading, or until we spot something +abnormal." He pointed at a +series of instruments.</p> + +<p>"They're bound to have a ship +somewhere, and we'll pick up a small +amount of power radiation from +their screens. If their ship were orbiting +in space, we'd have picked it up +long ago, so we must assume it's +grounded. I think we'd better go +right into a pattern. We can use +Kneuros as origin." He stared at the +plotting instruments.</p> + +<p>"Let's see. If I wanted to hide a +ship, I'd use the most inaccessible +location I could find. We do that +ourselves, in fact. And there are +some mountainous regions inland." +He set up course and speed.</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Banasel added, "and I'd +worry a lot more about ground approach +than air accessibility, at least +on this planet."</p> + +<p>The ship gained altitude, accelerated, +and sped eastward.</p> + +<p>Day by day, the course trace built +up, the cameras recorded the terrain +under the ship, and the two guardsmen +built up their mosaic. The ship +crossed and re-crossed the continent, +mapping as it went.</p> + +<p>From time to time, Lanko made +careful comparison of the new mosaic +with an earlier survey, noting +differences. There were new settlements. +Where members of a nomadic +culture had roamed the prairie, an +industrial civilization was rapidly +growing.</p> + +<p>Lanko tapped on the map. "Two +cultures," he observed. "Two cultures, +separated by mountains and +desert. Absolutely no evidence of +contact, but considerable similarity +between them. This pattern begins +to look familiar."</p> + +<p>He picked a tape from the +shelves, ran it through a viewer, +then reversed it, and picked out +various portions for recheck. Finally, +he made a superposition of some of +their observation tape, examined it, +and turned. Banasel held up a hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell us," he growled. "I +studied about drones, too."</p> + +<p>"Drones?" Musa looked at him, +then glanced back at the viewer.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Characters from one of the +advanced cultures, who feel frustrated, +and fail to fit in. They often +turn into pleasure seekers, and frequently +end up by monkeying with +primitive cultures, to prove their +ability to themselves, at least."</p> + +<p>"Things like this happen often?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not too often, I suppose, but +often enough so that people like us +are stationed on every known primitive +planet, to prevent activity of +the type. You see, the drones usually +start out simply, by setting up minor +interference in business or government +on some primitive planet. +Usually, they're caught pretty quickly. +But sometimes they evade capture. +And they can end up by exerting +serious influence in cultural patterns. +Some planets have been set back, and +even destroyed as a result of drone +activity. Although their motives are +different, drones're just as bad and +just as dangerous as any other criminal."</p> + +<p>Lanko grinned a little. "Only difference +is, they're usually easier to +combat than organized criminal +groups with a real purpose. Generally, +they're irresponsible youngsters +who don't have the weapons, +organization, or ability that the real +criminals come up with." He +shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he added, "we've +called for help just in case. But +we'll probably be able to take care +of this situation by ourselves. In +fact, unless there are unusual features, +we'd better, if we don't want +to be regarded as somewhat ineffectual." +He paused, glanced toward +the detector set, and tapped on the +map again, then slowly traced out an +area.</p> + +<p>"We should be picking up something +pretty soon," he said, +thoughtfully. "Better set up a pattern +around here, in the mountain +ranges, Banasel. We can worry about +settled areas later."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A needle flickered, rose from +zero, then steadied.</p> + +<p>Somewhere, back of the instrument +panel, a tiny current actuated +a micro relay, and an alarm drop fell.</p> + +<p>As the warning buzz sounded, +both Lanko and Banasel looked over +at the detector panel.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's about time." Lanko +leaned to his right, setting switches. +A screen lit up, showing a faint, red +dot. He touched the controls, bringing +the dot to center screen, then +checked the meters.</p> + +<p>"Not too far," he remarked. "A +little out of normal range, though. +He must have all his screen power +on."</p> + +<p>Banasel turned back to the workbench, +studied the labels on the +drawers for a moment, then opened +one.</p> + +<p>"Guess we'll need a can opener?"</p> + +<p>"We might. If he's aboard, we +may have to get a little rough." +Lanko leaned back.</p> + +<p>"Check the power pattern. Sort +of like to know what we're running +into before we commit ourselves." +He glanced again at the indicators, +then poked at switches.</p> + +<p>"In fact, I think we'd better wait +right here, till we get this boy identified."</p> + +<p>Banasel was whistling tunelessly +as he set up readings on a computer. +Finally, he poked the activator bar, +and watched as the machine spat out +tape. Above the tape chute, a series +of graphs indicated the computations, +but Banasel ignored them, feeding +the tape into another machine.</p> + +<p>"I suppose there are some characters +who could make a positive identification +from the figures and +curves. But I'm just a beginner. +That's why they furnish integrator +directories, I guess."</p> + +<p>Lanko smiled. "I don't know anything, +either," he agreed. "But I +generally know where I can look up +what I need." He set a compact reel +of tape into the computer.</p> + +<p>They watched the directory as its +screens glowed. Figures and descriptions +shimmered, and there was a +rapid ticking. A sheet flowed out +toward them, and Banasel tore it off +as the ticks ceased.</p> + +<p>"Type seventeen screens," he read. +"Probably Ietorian model Nan fifty-seven +generators. Strictly a sportster +setup. He's got electromagnetics and +physical contact screens, but there's +nothing else. And, with the type of +readings I've got here, I'd say he's +running all the power he's got. Do +we go in?"</p> + +<p>"Sure we do." Lanko nodded confidently +as he slapped the drive +lever.</p> + +<p>"This thing we've got's only an +atmosphere flier, but it's made to +take care of tougher stuff than luxury +sportsters. Set up your can +opener, just in case our boy wants +to argue with us."</p> + +<p>Banasel nodded silently.</p> + +<p>The small sportster was parked +between two peaks. Before it was a +tiny level space, too small for any +ship. Above it, towered bare rock, +tipped with eternal snow. Lanko examined +the scene disgustedly.</p> + +<p>"Inhospitable, isn't he?" he +grunted. "He could at least have had +enough front yard for a visitor to +land." He picked up a microphone, +touched a stud, and turned a knob. +A faint hiss sounded from the +speaker before him.</p> + +<p>"Philcor resident calling sportster," +he snapped. "Come in, +Over."</p> + +<p>The hiss continued. Lanko +punched another stud, and listened. +The hiss remained unchanged.</p> + +<p>"Open him up, Banasel," he finally +ordered. "I'm going in."</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair, crossing +to the exit port. For an instant, he +stood, checking his equipment belt. +Then, he reached to a cabinet, to +pick up a tool kit. He opened the +box, examined its contents, then +turned and nodded to Banasel.</p> + +<p>The port opened wide, and he +stepped through.</p> + +<p>He dropped lightly to the space +before the sportster, then stepped +away, crouching behind a rock out-crop, +and turned his body shield to +full power.</p> + +<p>"Screens down," he ordered.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A faint haze grew about the +sportster. At first, it was a barely +perceptible fluorescence. Then, it became +a fiercely incandescent glow. It +flamed for a few seconds, then +faded, becoming green, yellow, red, +and at last, blinking to invisibility.</p> + +<p>"They're damped," Banasel's +voice announced. "Shall I give him +some more and knock out the generators?"</p> + +<p>"Not necessary," Lanko told him. +"Just hold complete neutralization. +I'll cut them from inside."</p> + +<p>He rose from his position behind +the rock, idly kicking at the face of +it as he walked past. A shower of +dust crumbled to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Good thing there aren't any +trees around here," he laughed. +"We'd have to put out a forest fire."</p> + +<p>He pulled his hand weapon from +his belt, made a careful adjustment, +then walked over to the ship. After +a quick examination, he directed the +weapon toward a spot in the hull.</p> + +<p>"Lot of credits here," he commented +laconically. "Shame to hurt +the finish too much."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, he stepped +back, examining his work. Then, he +nodded and removed another instrument +from his tool kit. He focused +it on the ship's port, flicked a switch +on his belt, then snapped the instrument +on.</p> + +<p>For a few seconds, nothing happened, +then there was a grinding +screech of tortured metal, and the +port swung open.</p> + +<p>As Lanko stepped inside, he examined +the control room with care. +At last, satisfied that no booby traps +were set, he crossed to the control +panel. He located the communicator +controls, and picked up the microphone.</p> + +<p>"All's well, Ban," he reported. +"Ease off."</p> + +<p>He watched as the overloaded +generator recovered. When the +needles were at normal readings, he +flicked the screen controls off, then +picked up the microphone again.</p> + +<p>"Haul out, Banasel," he ordered. +"I'm going to fix this can up again, +close the port, run up the screens, +and wait for our boy to come home. +Like to talk to him."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The sportster had a well stocked +galley. Lanko ate with enjoyment, +studying the tapes he had found interestedly. +Finally, he pushed the last +reel aside, then sat back to gaze at +the wall.</p> + +<p>A low tone sounded, and the +viewscreen activated. Lanko nodded +to himself, then went to the control +room aperture, turning off the alarm +as he went through. A few strides +took him to the entry port, where he +waited, weapon in hand.</p> + +<p>The door swung open and Lanko +touched his trigger. The newcomer's +screen flared briefly, then collapsed. +Lanko stepped forward, examining +his prisoner.</p> + +<p>He was humanoid. There were +some differences from the usual type +encountered on the planet, but they +were not serious. He could have +passed in most of the Galankar, if +not anywhere. Some might even be +attracted by his slightly unusual appearance. +Lanko drew him into the +ship, and closed the port.</p> + +<p>He took his time, making a complete +search of the captive's clothing, +and removing equipment and weapons. +At last, he drew back, satisfied +that the being was harmless. He +waited. It wouldn't be too long before +the business could begin.</p> + +<p>As the paralysis effect wore off, +the man on the floor flexed his muscles, +then got to his feet. Lanko +watched him, his weapon resting on +his knees. As the man tensed to +spring, Lanko raised the weapon a +little.</p> + +<p>"You are Genro Kir?"</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What's the +idea?" Kir reached for his belt, then +dropped his hand again as he found +nothing there.</p> + +<p>"Resident Guardsman. Name's +Lanko. You seem to be a little out +of place on this planet."</p> + +<p>"I'm not responsible to some native +patrolman." Kir's face became +stubborn. "I'm a Galactic Citizen."</p> + +<p>"Possibly. We'll leave that to the +Sector authorities." Lanko shrugged, +his face expressionless. "Meantime, +you'll have to accept things as they +are. Or would you rather be paralyzed +again?"</p> + +<p>Genro Kir tensed again, making +an obvious mental effort.</p> + +<p>Lanko grinned at him in real +amusement. "I took it. Wouldn't do +you much good anyway. They gave +me heavy-duty equipment, you +know." He waved toward a chair +with his weapon. "Might as well sit +down and talk about it. I've been +through your tapes, of course."</p> + +<p>Kir looked around unhappily, +then sank into a chair. "What's there +to talk about, then? You know what +we were doing."</p> + +<p>"In general, yes, we do. A good +deal was on your tapes. But we need +more detail, and we've got to pick +up your companions, you know. It +would be a lot better if we knew +where they were."</p> + +<p>"I don't know where they are +myself. They're building up their +forces, and working for position. +This is just the opening, you see. +The real game won't start for quite +a while."</p> + +<p>Lanko laughed shortly. "Frankly, +I don't think it will start. But it +would make it simpler for all concerned +if you'd help us find the +players."</p> + +<p>"I told you. I don't know where +they are. They don't have to tell the +referee every move they make, unless +they want a consultation as to +legality. I was just keeping watch on +the general picture, to see that +neither of them broke a rule, or took +an unfair advantage."</p> + +<p>"You may not know where they +are," Lanko admitted, "but you can +certainly contact them."</p> + +<p>Genro Kir smiled tightly. "But I +won't."</p> + +<p>"They'll be hunted down, you +know. We'll have them eventually. +Be a lot easier for all concerned if +you'd coöperate."</p> + +<p>"Coöperate with a bunch of half +savage natives, against my own +friends? Don't be more stupid than +you have to be!"</p> + +<p>"I see." Lanko glanced away. "All +very ethical, of course. Well, in that +case, we'll have to go to work." He +pulled a fine chain from a case at +his belt, and walked over to his captive, +weapon ready.</p> + +<p>"Just hold still," he ordered. He +slipped the delicate looking necklace +over the man's head, squeezed the +pendant, and jumped back.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you're +familiar with this device," he said, +"so I'll explain it to you. It's a type +ninety-two gravitic manacle, and is +designed to hold any known being. +You can move about freely, so long +as you don't make any sudden or +violent motion. The device is keyed +to my shield, and you'll suffer temporary +paralysis if you get within +my near zone. You're safe enough a +couple of meters from me." He +walked back to the control console.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he added, "don't try +to take it off. It's designed to prevent +that action by positive means. +It won't do you any permanent damage, +but it can make you pretty uncomfortable. +And, remember, if it +becomes necessary, I can activate the +manacle. It'll put you into full +paralysis and send out a strong homing +signal."</p> + +<p>Genro Kir looked at him sourly. +"I won't try to escape," he promised.</p> + +<p>"That's immaterial to me." Lanko +flicked switches and the ship rose +from the ground, swung, and started +westward. "I was merely describing +the capabilities of the manacle."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On the way over the sea, Lanko +noted the positions of a few of the +trading ships, and approached them +closely, examining them. As he approached +a small archipelago, his +communicator screen brightened.</p> + +<p>"Resident Guardsman to Sportster. +Identity yourself. Over."</p> + +<p>Lanko picked up the microphone. +"It's all right, Ban. Got one. Two +more to go."</p> + +<p>"Fair enough. Come on in. I've +got a beam on you."</p> + +<p>Lanko checked the approach +scope. The small circle was a trifle +out of center. He touched the control +bar, and as the circle centered, he +snapped a switch and sat back.</p> + +<p>The sportster dipped over an island, +crossed a narrow lagoon, and +settled to the ground beside the +guard flier. Lanko started pulling +tools from his kit. Working carefully, +he removed the cover from the +control console, examined the terminal +blocks, then attached a small +cylinder between two terminals.</p> + +<p>He closed the console again and +walked over to the exit port, where +he pressed the emergency release. +The port swung wide. For an instant, +the control console was +blurred. Lanko waited, then as the +panel returned to focus, he walked +back to it. He snapped the drive +switch on and pushed the drive to +maximum. Nothing happened. He +punched the emergency power button, +and waited an instant. There +was no result. He nodded to his prisoner.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Genro Kir. We may +want you to talk to someone." He +pointed to the port. Kir hesitated, +then went through. He managed a +sneer as he did so.</p> + +<p>The port of the flier opened, and +Banasel looked out. "Need any +help?"</p> + +<p>"No. This spaceship won't fly +till someone from Sector comes out +to pull the block." Lanko pointed. +"This is Genro Kir. He was refereeing +a sort of battle game between a +couple of his companions."</p> + +<p>Lanko herded Kir in front of him, +and entered his own flier. He placed +the equipment kit on a shelf, and +sat down. Banasel perched on his +workbench.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a setup did these +jokers have?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you can review the tapes +later and get a few of the details, +but here's the general idea:</p> + +<p>"Genro Kir and his two companions +made planetfall some years +back. They didn't know it was a discovered +planet, and failed to note +any evidence of our presence. Somehow, +we missed them, too, for which +we should hang our heads.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, they checked the +planet, found it was suitable to their +purpose, and decided that Koree +Buron and Sira Nal could use it as +a playing board. Seems they had a +bet on, and their last game was inconclusive. +Both of the involved +civilizations collapsed.</p> + +<p>"Each of them selected a portion +of the habitable part of the eastern +continent as a primary base. Buron +took the east, and that left the west +to Nal. It so happens that the central +portion of the continent is difficult +to pass, and that fitted in with +their plans. You remember the desert +and mountain ranges, of course? +Well, so far as I can discover, there +was virtually no contact before the +arrival of these three prizes of ours. +And after their arrival, they made +sure that there would be no contact—not +until they wanted it.</p> + +<p>"Of course, deserts can be crossed, +and mountains can be climbed, but +our three boys fixed it so it would be +fatal for any native to try it. Then, +each of the two contestants set to +work to build up the war potential +of his part of the continent.</p> + +<p>"In the meantime, Genro was acting +as referee. He's been checking +the progress of the two contestants, +and making sure that neither of them +sneaks into the territory of the other +to upset something, or commits any +other breach of rules."</p> + +<p>Banasel slid off his bench. "Atmosphere +of mutual trust, I see."</p> + +<p>"Precisely."</p> + +<p>"Where do the Kondaran priests +come in?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, those two aren't going to +confine the final stage of their game +to the one continent. That's just the +starting point—the home base. And +what they're doing now is just the +opening of the game. The end game +will decide control of the entire +planet. Sira Nal's just getting off to +an early start, that's all."</p> + +<p>"This is legitimate, according to +their rules?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so. According to Kir's +tapes, he thinks it's a clever maneuver. +'Sound move' is the way he expressed +it." Lanko stood and walked +over to the reproducer set. "That +all came from the tapes, of course."</p> + +<p>"How much more has Kir told +you?"</p> + +<p>"As little as possible."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Banasel looked toward the prisoner. +"Why not coöperate? You're +due for Aldebaran anyway. And a +little help now would make it easier +for you and your partners later."</p> + +<p>Genro Kir's lip curled. "As I told +your friend, I don't have to lower +myself to work with a bunch of low-grade +primitives."</p> + +<p>"See what I mean?" Lanko slanted +an eyebrow at Banasel. "But I +think our friend here will help us +some, anyway. That 'sound move' he +recorded is almost sure to catch us +one of the players."</p> + +<p>"Oh?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. What's the whole foundation +of this cult of Kondaro?"</p> + +<p>"Why, they navigate ships. They +keep strict security on their methods. +They enforce that security by terrorism. +They claim that no one else +can successfully cross the Great Sea, +and it seems to be a proven fact that +they're right. So, they collect from +seamen, traders, and shipowners."</p> + +<p>"That's right. And they claim that +only they can overcome the spells +and actions of the sea demons, which +try to destroy any ship that sails the +sea. First, though, they navigate +ships. They guarantee to get 'em +across the sea and back. Right?"</p> + +<p>Banasel nodded.</p> + +<p>"Suppose they start losing ships? +Suppose that from now on, no ship +returns to port?" Lanko walked over +to the control console.</p> + +<p>"Hey, wait a minute. I know these +priests are a bunch of pirates—or +some of them are, at any rate. But +we can't—"</p> + +<p>"Who said anything about destroying +life?" Lanko spread his +hands. "We have here a fairly nice +group of islands," he pointed out. +"Not too spacious, of course, and +not possessed of any luxurious cities. +But there's water, and fresh fruits +are available in plenty. The ships +are provisioned fairly well, but they +generally put in here for those very +fruits. So, all we need do is give a +little unwanted help."</p> + +<p>"Shipwreck?"</p> + +<p>"Something like that."</p> + +<p>Banasel shook his head doubtfully. +"It'll take a long time to undermine +their reputation that way," +he objected. "And we'd have a lot +of people on these islands before we +were through."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. Kondaro's a +god, remember? And gods are infallible. +Sira Nal can explain a few +disappearances by accusations of +irreverence, but he'll know better +than to try explaining too many that +way. I should imagine that the normal +losses due to unexpected storms +just about use up his allotment along +that line."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 490px;"> +<img src="images/005a.png" width="490" height="168" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 231px;"> +<img src="images/005b.png" width="231" height="332" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<p>Lanko shook his head. "No, Sira +Nal's going to have to do something +to prevent any rumor to the effect +that the sea god is losing his grip." +He paused. "And what ship do you +think I spotted standing this way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! That's too much of a +coincidence."</p> + +<p>"No, not really. We took considerable +time gathering in our boy +here." Lanko inclined his head toward +Genro Kir. "And the <i>Bordeklu's</i> +home port is Tanagor, so Musa's +old ship wouldn't spend too much +of a layover in Kneuros. They're on +schedule all right. You'd like to see +your old friend, Dontor, again, +wouldn't you, Musa? Sort of watch +him try to save his ship in a real +emergency?"</p> + +<p>Musa grinned wolfishly. "Might +be fun, at that," he agreed.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dontor strode firmly toward the +ladder leading to the observation +deck. The slaves had rigged the +screen, and the priest looked proudly +about this ship of which he was +the actual and absolute master. Slowly, +in majestic silence, he mounted +the ladder and passed through the +opening in the curtain.</p> + +<p>He went to the middle of the +forecastle, and stopped, waiting until +the two junior priests had taken +their positions near him and the +slaves had set down the equipment +chests. The slaves straightened, and +stood, arms folded, waiting. Dontor +inspected the area, then moved his +head imperiously.</p> + +<p>"Very good," he said. "Take +your posts."</p> + +<p>As the slaves left, the three priests +opened their instrument chests, removing +navigational tools. Alnar +went to the folding table, spread the +chart over it, then took his watch +out of the chest and stood back, +holding it.</p> + +<p>"Just about time, sir."</p> + +<p>"Very well." Dontor glanced at +the juniors, saw that Kuero had his +sextant ready, and raised his own.</p> + +<p>"Now," he instructed, when the +readings were complete, "you will +each calculate our position independently. +I'll check your work when +you have finished." He replaced his +sextant in its case, then headed the +small procession back to the cabins.</p> + +<p>The ship's routine continued its +uneventful course. The junior priests +reported to Dontor with their calculations. +Their work was examined, +criticized, and finally approved. +They were given further instructions. +All was well aboard the <i>Bordeklu</i>.</p> + +<p>The chief priest examined the +charts and decided on the course for +the next watch. The ship, he +thought, would have to put in for +water. And some of the island fruits +would go well on the table. He set +a course accordingly, and went topside +to give instructions to the pilot.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>"Are you going to help them on +their way?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"It's not necessary, unless they +start to by-pass the island. They'll +have plenty to worry about when +they try to anchor."</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Ahead of the ship, the sea was +calm. No cloud marred the bright +blue overhead. Slowly, a vague shape +formed on the horizon, then it grew, +to become a small, wooded island.</p> + +<p>The ship continued on its course, +approaching the bit of land, and +neared the breaker line. Orders +sounded sharply, and the sails collapsed, +spilling their wind. A crew +forward cut the snubbing line, and +the bow anchor splashed into the +water.</p> + +<p>The ship continued, and the anchor +cable became taut. In defiance +of the helmsman's efforts, the ship +continued on a straight course. The +bow line stretched, then loosened a +little, as the anchor dragged. Still, +the ship refused to swing. Hurriedly, +the crew aft dropped the stern +anchor. But the ship persisted on its +course. All hands forward took shelter +as the bow cable snapped and +whipped viciously across the deck. +The ship maintained its slow progress.</p> + +<p>Frantically, the crew backed the +sails, hoisting them to take all the +wind possible. The helmsman spun +the wheel in a final effort to turn the +ship back to sea, then cast a glance +astern at the taut cable, and ducked +for shelter.</p> + +<p>Sea anchors were hastily thrown +overside, but still the ship approached +the beach. The keel grated on +sand, and the ship continued to +move forward, as though, tired of +the sea, it had decided to return to +the forest. At last, wedged among +the trees, the vessel stopped, far +above the sands of the beach.</p> + +<p>It was obviously there to stay.</p> + +<p>Dontor stood, looking seaward. +He shook his head, looked forward, +then down at the ground beneath the +ship. This was outside his experience. +It was also outside the teaching so +carefully instilled in his mind in +the classrooms back at Tanagor, and +later during those long days and +nights when he was a junior priest. +He had been taught to speak of sea +demons, and to explain their actions, +but he had not been told to believe +in them.</p> + +<p>He wondered if the great Kondaro +really existed, and if he did, +just what he might think of Dontor +and of the ship he had so recently +controlled. The thought crossed his +mind that a real god might be somewhat +critical of the priesthood of the +sea.</p> + +<p>"Something," he mused aloud, +"will have to be done to prevent +loss of faith."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>"Well," remarked Lanko as he +snapped the tractor off. "That's the +first handful of sand for the cook +pot."</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sira Nal drummed impatiently on +the table before him.</p> + +<p>"I thought you could handle routine +operations," he said bitingly. +"Now, you tell me you've been missing +ship after ship. What happened +to them?"</p> + +<p>The high priest shook his head. +"We haven't been able to find out, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me you +haven't anything to report on them?"</p> + +<p>"We have sent out investigating +ships, sir."</p> + +<p>"And?"</p> + +<p>"They haven't reported back, sir."</p> + +<p>Sira Nal's checks paled slightly +with rage as he stared at his underling.</p> + +<p>"Miron," he snapped, "I'm not +going to tell you exactly what to do, +or how. You're supposed to know +how to treat emergencies, not to call +me any time something outside of +routine happens. I want a report on +those ships tomorrow morning." He +glanced out of the window. "I don't +care how you do it, but find out +what happened, and I don't ever +want to hear you admit again that +you can't account for any ship I ask +about. Is that clear?"</p> + +<p>Miron nodded unhappily. "Yes, +sir." He bowed and backed out of +the room.</p> + +<p>He forced himself to suppress his +anger as he gently closed the door. +Then, he stood for a moment, fists +clenched, as he directed a furious +gaze at the panels.</p> + +<p>"How?" he thought. "How does +he expect me to know what's going +on at sea unless ships come in to +give me information, or I am able +to go out personally. And how does +he expect me to make a personal +check in one night?"</p> + +<p>He started walking along the corridor. +"I have no supernatural +powers, and he knows it. He's the +prophet. Wish I'd never—"</p> + +<p>He looked at the walls around +him, then shook his head. No use +thinking of that. None had ever successfully +left the service of Kondaro. +He continued to a stair, mounted it, +then climbed ladders, to finally come +out at the observation platform atop +the temple. The observer bowed as +his superior entered the little room +just below the torch.</p> + +<p>"Have there been any arrivals?"</p> + +<p>"None, sir. I've seen no sails."</p> + +<p>"I am going to send you an +acolyte. If you see anything, send +him to me immediately." Miron +turned to go back to his quarters.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>After Miron's departure, Sira Nal +sat for a time, still staring at the +closed door. He had caught the wave +of frustrated rage, and had almost +responded for a second. But, he was +forced to admit, the priest had justification. +He had organized his forces +adequately—had been a useful piece, +within his limitations.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," mused Sira Nal, "if +Buron's pulling a sneak punch." He +tilted his head. "It would be a little +foul, but he might try something +like that." He reviewed the rules +they had agreed upon.</p> + +<p>After all, this phase of his operation +was outside of the home zone, +and he was actually vulnerable to attack, +even this early. He had assumed +that Buron would be too busy +developing his own pieces to spend +any time on an offensive move at +this stage. Of course, direct intervention +was a little unethical, but Buron +might try it.</p> + +<p>He had thought his opponent +would be too occupied to notice a +move at this remote part of the +board. And he had established this +advance base by direct intervention, +too. If Buron had noticed, and if he +had checked Nal's methods, he +might have felt justified, and have +taken time for a quick, disruptive +move. And Sira Nal was forced to +admit that such a move might be +allowed by Kir. It might be even +approved, and hailed as a brilliant +counter.</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet, pacing about +the room. If this were a move by +Buron, the priesthood would be +powerless to counter. It would take +direct action by the player, of course. +He grumbled to himself.</p> + +<p>"Can't let this development be +wasted. I'd lose too much time. I'll +have to check personally."</p> + +<p>He crossed to the window, opened +it, and stepped out on the balcony.</p> + +<p>Outside, the sun glinted on the +harbor. A ship was standing out to +sea, sails set to pick up the breeze +from the headland. Sira Nal looked +over toward the shipyards. It was a +well organized secondary base, and +it would probably develop into a +highly valuable position. Somehow, +he doubted that Buron would have +been able to do as well, considering +the time factor. He shook his head. +This must be retained.</p> + +<p>He threw the robe back, checked +his equipment belt, adjusted his +body shield, and stepped off the balcony, +activating his levitation modulator. +He swung around the outgoing +ship, noting the activity aboard with +approval, then headed seaward, to +follow the route he had prescribed +for his navigators. Somewhere out +there, he would undoubtedly find +Buron, poised to strike at any ship +which bore the red and gold of Kondaro.</p> + +<p>And when he did find him, he +knew, he would have to outline a +counter move which would force +immunity to his sea lanes. He considered +the possibilities as he sped +over the sea.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Musa sat before the detector, idly +watching the vague patterns that +grew and collapsed on the viewscreen. +The scanner, Lanko had explained, +picked up ghost images +from heated air masses, or from +clouds, but it discriminated against +them, refusing to form a definite +image unless a material body came +within range. Then, it indicated +range and azimuth, checked the body +against the predetermined data, and +the selective magnification circuits +cut in.</p> + +<p>As Musa watched, a sea bird appeared +on the screen, outlined sharply +against the darkness of the sea. +The viewscreen tracked it for an instant, +then continued its scan. Another +body showed, seeming to +come from under the sea. Musa +looked at it curiously, then noticed +that the range marks had tripped on. +The screen was holding the object +at center. A slight glow appeared, +obscuring visual detail, and more +marks showed in the legend. Musa +turned around.</p> + +<p>"Banasel," he called, "what's +this?"</p> + +<p>Banasel was engaged in his usual +pastime of tinkering with the +equipment. He looked around, then +walked quickly over to the screen, +to make adjustments. The object +came into sharp focus, revealing itself +as a man in the robes of Kondaro. +Range and azimuth lines became +clearly defined, and a graph +showed in the legend space. Banasel +glanced down at the dials.</p> + +<p>"Hey, Lanko," he called, "we've +got a customer."</p> + +<p>"Where?" Lanko came out of the +mess compartment.</p> + +<p>"About seventy-one, true, and +coming in fast. Range, about a hundred +K's." Banasel twisted dials, +watching the result on the screen. +"Looks as though our friend's coming +in for a conference."</p> + +<p>"Screens?"</p> + +<p>"Personal body shield. Probably +a Morei twelve. Nothing special."</p> + +<p>Lanko got into the gunner's chair +and punched a button. The sight +screen lit, showing the approaching +body clearly. He turned a knob, increasing +magnification.</p> + +<p>"All dressed up in his ceremonial +robes, too," he laughed. "This kid +could have done well as a clothing +designer."</p> + +<p>He adjusted a few knobs, examining +a meter. Then, he reached for +the weapon's grip.</p> + +<p>"No point in discussing matters +with him now. He can talk after we +get him in, and he's just about in +range now." He brought the hair-lines +on the viewscreen to center on +the approaching figure, and squeezed +the grip.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sira Nal felt the sudden pressure. +Annoyed, he reached to his belt, to +turn his shield to full power. This +was highly unethical. Buron should +certainly know better than to resort +to personal attack. Such action could +be protested, and Sira Nal could demand +concessions.</p> + +<p>He looked ahead, searchingly. +The horizon ahead was broken by a +faint cloud, which indicated the islands, +but there was no evidence of +his opponent. He shook his head, +and started to rise, but his shield +was failing. Suddenly, he became +aware of the overheating generator +pack. Something was decidedly +wrong. He reached for his own hand +weapon, still searching for his attacker. +At last, he noticed a slight +shimmer, dead ahead. He pointed +the weapon.</p> + +<p>"Now, now," cautioned a voice, +"you could get hurt that way. Close +down your shield and relax. This is +a guard flier. You're in arrest tractor."</p> + +<p>Sira Nal recognized that the +tractor was pulling him ahead. His +generator pack was heating up dangerously.</p> + +<p>He was being captured!</p> + +<p>Furiously, he thought of the attacks +he had made in similar manner, +in this same area. He still could +remember the horrified expression on +one shipowner's face just before his +ship broke to bits under him.</p> + +<p>They wouldn't get him, though.</p> + +<p>They couldn't.</p> + +<p>He would blast them out of his +path. Just as he had blasted the +presumptuous natives who opposed +him.</p> + +<p>Thumbing the hand weapon to +full blast, he centered it on the faint +shimmer ahead, and squeezed the +trigger.</p> + +<p>Let the meddlers look out for +themselves.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Banasel winced a little as the fireball +spread, then rose skyward, to +form a large cloud.</p> + +<p>"You could have relaxed," he protested. +"The blast wouldn't have +jolted our screen too much, and you +could have gotten him again."</p> + +<p>"I know." Lanko flicked off the +gunnery switches and leaned back, +rubbing his head. "There was a possibility, +and I fully intended to relax. +But the decision time was short, +and frankly, those thoughts of his +overrode me for just too long. That +boy was dangerous!"</p> + +<p>He turned to Genro Kir, who was +looking with horrified fascination at +the still growing cloud in the screen.</p> + +<p>"It's unfortunate. We'll try to get +your other partner alive."</p> + +<p>"You destroyed him!" Kir looked +a little sick.</p> + +<p>"No. We didn't destroy him. He +should have known better than to +fire into a tractor. I'll have to admit, +I did slip a little. I assumed he was +the usual type of drone. I didn't +recognize the full extent of his aberration."</p> + +<p>Lanko got out of his chair, and +crossed the room, to confront the +prisoner.</p> + +<p>"Look, Kir. I don't know whether +your other partner's like that one or +not. But I think it's about time you +helped a little. If you had given us +clues to Sira Nal's personality and +probable location, we might have +been able to take precautions. He +might be with us now. Or, do you +enjoy seeing your friends turn themselves +into flaming clouds of +smoke?"</p> + +<p>"You mean I ... I'm responsible +... for that?"</p> + +<p>"Partially. You helped them. You +refused any assistance in their capture. +And you knew they were going +to be captured, one way or another."</p> + +<p>Kir directed a horrified look at the +screen.</p> + +<p>"What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"Get in contact with Koree Buron. +Tell him what happened here. +Tell him, too, that we're looking for +him, and that there is a Sector +Guardsman due to join us within a +few hours. Explain to him that there +will be direction-finders on him very +soon, and that any effort he may +make to use his body shield, his +weapons, or even his thought-radiations, +will be noted, and will lead to +him.</p> + +<p>"Once you establish contact, we +will ride in, if you wish. And we +can assure him that he'll be either +hunted down promptly, or he will +have to assume and accept the +role of a native—and a very inconspicuous, +uninfluential native, at +that.</p> + +<p>"Tell him that he is free to come +to us and surrender at any time +within the next twenty hours, +planetary. After that, he will be +taken by the most expedient means. +After the surrender deadline, you +can assure him that his life will be +of less importance to us, and to the +Sector Guardsman, than that of the +most humble native.</p> + +<p>"Here's your mental amplifier, if +you need it."</p> + +<p>Genro Kir looked at the proffered +circlet, then slowly extended a hand. +He took the device, turned it around +in his hands for a few moments, +then put it on.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, his face set in decision, +and he sat quietly for a while, grim +faced. At last, he looked up.</p> + +<p>"I got him. He argued a little, but +he had a poor argument, and he +knew it. He'll be here within an +hour, screens down."</p> + + +<p class="czerop"><b>THE END</b></p> + + + + +<div class="trans2"> +<p class="trnhd"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Astounding Science Fiction</i> April 1955. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright +on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors +have been corrected without note.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Players, by Everett B. 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Cole + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Players + +Author: Everett B. Cole + +Illustrator: Solo + +Release Date: August 29, 2007 [EBook #22426] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLAYERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE + PLAYERS + + BY EVERETT B. COLE + + + _A Playboy is someone with power, too much time + on his hands, and too little sense of a goal + worth achieving. And if the Playboy happens to + belong to a highly advanced culture...._ + + + Illustrated by Solo + + +Through the narrow streets leading to the great plaza of Karth, swarmed +a colorful crowd--buyers, idlers, herdsmen, artisans, traders. From all +directions they came, some to gather around the fountain, some to +explore the wineshops, many to examine the wares, or to buy from the +merchants whose booths and tents hid the cobblestones. + +A caravan wound its way through a gate and stopped, the weary beasts +standing patiently as the traders sought vacant space where they might +open business. From another gate, a herdsman guided his living wares +through the crowd, his working animals snapping at the heels of the +flock, keeping it together and in motion. + +Musa, trader of Karth, sat cross-legged before his shop, watching the +scene with quiet amusement. Business was good in the city, and his was +pleasingly above the average. Western caravans had come in, exchanging +their goods for those eastern wares he had acquired. Buyers from the +city and from the surrounding hills had come to him, to exchange their +coin for his goods. He glanced back into the booth, satisfied with what +he saw, then resumed his casual watch of the plaza. No one seemed +interested in him. + +There were customers in plenty. Men stopped, critically examined the +contents of the displays, then moved on, or stayed to bargain. One of +these paused before Musa, his eyes dwelling on the merchant rather than +on his wares. + +[Illustration] + +The shopper was a man of medium height. His rather slender, finely +featured face belied the apparent heaviness of his body, though his +appearance was not actually abnormal. Rather, he gave the impression of +being a man of powerful physique and ascetic habits. His dress was that +of a herdsman, or possibly of an owner of herds from the northern +Galankar. + +Musa arose, to face him. + +"Some sleeping rugs, perhaps? Or a finely worked bronze jar from the +East?" + +The stranger nodded. "Possibly. But I would like to look a while if I +may." + +Musa stepped aside, waving a hand. "You are more than welcome, friend," +he assented. "Perhaps some of my poor goods may strike your fancy." + +"Thank you." The stranger moved inside. + +Musa stood at the entrance, watching him. As the man stepped from place +to place, Musa noted that he seemed to radiate a certain confidence. +There was a definite aura of power and ability. This man, the trader +decided, was no ordinary herdsman. He commanded more than sheep. + +"You own herds to the North?" he asked. + +The stranger turned, smiling. "Lanko is my name," he said. "Yes, I come +from the North." He swept a hand to indicate the merchandise on display, +and directed a questioning gaze at the merchant. "It seems strange that +your goods are all of the East. I see little of the West in all your +shop." + + * * * * * + +Normally, Musa kept his own council, assuming that his affairs were not +public property, but his alone. There was something about this man, +Lanko, however, which influenced him to break his usual reticence. + +"I plan a trading trip to the Eastern Sea," he confided. "Of course, to +carry eastern goods again to the East would be a waste of time, so I am +reserving my western goods for the caravan and clearing out the things +of the East." + +Lanko nodded. "I see." He pointed to a small case of finely worked +jewelry. "What would be the price of those earrings?" + +Musa reached into the case, taking out a cunningly worked pair of shell +and gold trinkets. + +"These are from Norlar, a type of jewelry we rarely see here," he said. +"For these, I must ask twenty balata." + +Lanko whistled softly. "No wonder you would make a trip East. I wager +there is profit in those." He pointed. "What of the sword up there?" + +Musa laughed. "You hesitate at twenty balata, then you point out that?" + +He crossed the tent, taking the sword from the wall. Drawing it from its +scabbard, he pointed to the unusually long, slender blade. + +"This comes from Norlar, too. But the smith who made it is still farther +to the east, beyond the Great Sea." He gripped the blade, flexing it. + +"Look you," he commanded, "how this blade has life. Here is none of your +soft bronze or rough iron from the northern hills. Here is a living +metal that will sever a hair, yet not shatter on the hardest helm." + +Lanko showed interest. "You say this sword was made beyond the Great +Sea? How, then, came it to Norlar and thence here?" + +Musa shook his head. "I am not sure," he confessed. "It is rumored that +the priests of the sea god, Kondaro, by praying to their deity, are +guided across the sea to lands unknown." + +"Taking traders with them?" + +"So I have been told." + +"And you plan to journey to Norlar to verify this rumor, and perhaps to +make a sea voyage?" + +Musa stroked his beard, wondering if this man could actually read +thoughts. + +"Yes," he admitted, "I had that in mind." + +"I see." Lanko reached for the sword. As Musa handed it to him, he +extended it toward the rear of the booth, whipping it in an intricate +saber drill. Musa watched, puzzled. An experienced swordsman himself he +had thought he knew all of the sword arts. The sword flexed, singing as +it cut through the air. + +"Merchant, I like this sword. What would its price be?" + + * * * * * + +Musa was disappointed. Here was strange bargaining. People just didn't +walk in and announce their desire for definite articles. They feigned +indifference. They picked over the wares casually, disparagingly. They +looked at many items, asking prices. They bargained a little, perhaps, +to test the merchant. They made comments about robbery, and about the +things they had seen in other merchants' booths which were so much +better and so much cheaper. + +Slowly, and with the greatest reluctance, did the normal shopper +approach the object he coveted. + +Then, here was this man. + +"_Well_," Musa told himself, "_make the most of it_." He shrugged. + +"Nine hundred balata," he stated definitely, matching the frank +directness of this unusual shopper, and incidentally doubling his price. + +Lanko was examining the hilt of the sword. He snapped a fingernail +against its blade. There was a musical _ping_. + +"You must like this bit of metal far better than I," he commented +without looking up. "I only like it two hundred balata worth." + +Musa felt relief at this return to familiar procedure. He held up his +hands in a horrified gesture. + +"Two hundred!" he cried. "Why, that is for the craftsman's apprentices. +There is yet the master smith, and those who bring the weapon to you. +No, friend, if you want this prince of swords, you must expect to pay +for it. One does not--" He paused. Lanko was sheathing the weapon, his +whole bearing expressing unwilling relinquishment. + +Musa slowed his speech. "Still," he said softly, "I am closing out my +eastern stock, after all. Suppose we make it eight hundred fifty?" + +"Did you say two hundred fifty?" Lanko held the sheathed sword up, +turning to the light to inspect the leather work. + +The bargaining went on. Outside, the crowds in the street thinned, as +the populace started for their evening meals. The sword was inspected +and re-inspected. It slid out of its sheath and back again. Finally, +Musa sighed. + +"Well, all right. Make it five hundred, and I'll go to dinner with you." +He shook his head in a nearly perfect imitation of despair. "May the +wineshop do better than I did." + + * * * * * + +"Housewife, this is Watchdog. Over." + +The man at the workbench looked around. Then, he laid his tools aside, +and picked up a small microphone. + +"This is Housewife," he announced. + +"Coming in." + +The worker clipped the microphone to his jacket, and crossed the room to +a small panel. He threw a switch, looked briefly at a viewscreen, then +snapped another switch. + +"Screen's down," he reported. "Come on in, Lanko." + +An opening appeared in the wall, to show a fleeting view of a bleak +landscape. Bare rocks jutted from the ice, kept clear of snow by the +shrieking wind. Extreme cold crept into the room, then a man swept in +and the wall resumed its solidity behind him. + +He stood for an instant, glancing around, then shrugged off a light robe +and started shedding equipment. + +"Hi, Pal," he was greeted. "How are things down Karth way?" + +"Nothing exceptional." Lanko shrugged. "This area's getting so peaceful +it's monotonous." He unsnapped his accumulator and crossed to the power +generator. + +"No wars, or rumors of wars," he continued. "The town's getting +moral--very moral, and it's developing into a major center of commerce +in the process." He kicked off his sandals, wriggled out of the baggy +native trousers, and tossed his shirt on top of them. + +"No more shakedowns. Tax system's working the way it was originally +intended to, and the merchants are flocking in." + +He walked toward the wall, flicking a hand out. An opening appeared, and +he ducked through it. + +"Be with you in a minute, Banasel," he called over his shoulder. "Like +to get cleaned up." + +Banasel nodded and went back to the workbench. He picked up a small +part, examined it, touched it gently a few times with a soft brush, and +replaced it in the device he was working on. + +He tightened it into place, and was checking another component when a +slight shuffle announced his companion's return. + +"Oh, yes," said Lanko. "Met your old pal, Musa. He's doing right well +for himself." + +Banasel swung around. "Haven't seen him since we joined the Corps. +What's he doing?" + +"Trading." Lanko opened a locker, glancing critically at the clothing +within. "He set up shop with the load of goods we gave him long ago, and +did some pretty shrewd merchandising. Now, he's planning a trip over the +Eastern Sea. He hinted at a rumor of a civilization out past Norlar." + +"Nothing out there for several thousand kilos," growled Banasel, "except +for a few little islands." He jerked a thumb toward the workbench. "I +can't show you right now, because the scanner's down for cleaning, but +there isn't even an island for the first couple thousand K's. Currents +are all wrong, too. No one could cross without navigational equipment." + +"I know," Lanko assured him. "We haven't checked over that way for a +long time, but I still remember. I didn't put it exactly that way, of +course, but I did ask Musa how he planned to get over the Eastern. And, +I got an answer." He paused as he gathered up the garments he had +discarded. + +"It seems there's a new priesthood at Norlar, who've got something," he +continued. "It's all wrapped up in religious symbology, and they don't +let any details get out, but they are guiding ships out to sea, and +they're bringing them back again, loaded with goods that never +originated in the Galankar, or in any place accessible to the +Galankar." He hung up the last article of clothing and turned, a +sheathed sword in his hand. + +"Musa sold me this," he said, extending the hilt toward Banasel. "I +never saw anything like it on this planet. Did you?" + + * * * * * + +Banasel accepted the weapon, drawing it from its scabbard. He examined +the handwork on the hilt, then snapped a fingernail against the blade. +As he listened to the musical _ping_, the technician looked at the +weapon with more interest. Gently, he flexed it, watching for signs of +strain. Lanko grinned at him. + +"Go ahead," he invited, "get rough with it. That's a sword you're +holding, Chum, not one of those bronze skull busters." + +Banasel extended the sword, whipping it violently. The blade bent, then +straightened, and bent again, as it slashed through the air. + +"Well," he murmured. "Something new." + +He put the sword on the workbench and took an instrument from a cabinet. +For a few minutes, he busied himself taking readings and tapping out +data on his computer. He sat back, looking at the sword curiously. At +last, he glanced at the computer, then put the test instrument he had +been using back in the cabinet, taking another to replace it. After +taking more readings, he looked at the computer, then shook his head, +turning to Lanko. + +"This," he said slowly, "is excellent steel. Of course, it could be an +accidental alloy, but I wouldn't think anyone on this planet could have +developed the technology to get it just so." He held the sword away from +him, looking at it closely. "Assuming an accidental alloy, an accident +in getting precisely the right degree of heat before quenching, and +someone who ground and polished with such care as to leave the temper +undisturbed, while getting this finish--Oh, it's possible, all right. +But 'tain't likely. Musa told you this came from overseas?" + +"To the best of his knowledge. He got it from a trader who claimed to +have been on a voyage across the Eastern Sea." + +Banasel leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. "You must have +had quite a talk with Musa. Did he remember you?" + +Lanko shook his head. "Don't be foolish," he grunted. "You and I were +blotted out of his memory, remember? So are quite a few of the things +that happened around Atakar, way back when. He's got a complete past, of +course, but we're not part of it. + +"No, he had a booth in the Karth market. I came through, just looking +things over, and recognized him. So, I picked an acquaintance. Beat him +down to about half the asking price for this sword, still leaving him a +whopping profit. He went to dinner with me, still bewailing the rooking +I'd given him. Told you, he's a trader. We had quite a talk, certainly. +But we were strangers." + +"Yeah." Banasel looked off into space. "Seems funny. You and I were born +on this planet. We were brought up here, and a lot of people once knew +us. But they've all forgotten, and we don't belong any more. I'm +beginning to see what they mean by 'the lonely life of a guardsman.'" + +He was silent for a time, then looked at his companion. + +"Do you think these priests at Norlar might be in our line of business?" + +"Could be," nodded Lanko. "There's a lot of seafaring out of Konassa, +and there are several other busy seaports we know of. But no one in any +of them ever heard of navigation out of sight of land, let alone trying +it. There's nothing but pilotage, and even that's pretty sketchy. And, +there's this thing." He crossed to the workbench, picked up the sword, +and stroked its blade. + +"Normally," he mused, "technical knowledge gets around. Part of it's +developed here, part there. Then someone comes along and puts it +together. And someone else adds to it. And so on. + +"Then, there are other times, when there's an abnormal source, or where +there are unusual conditions, and knowledge is very closely guarded. +This might be one of those cases, and those priests might be fronting +for someone very much in our line of business." He broke off. + +"Any maedli hot?" + +"Sure." Banasel picked a pot from the heater and poured two cups. + +"Think we should set up a base near Norlar and have a look?" + +"Probably be a good idea." Lanko accepted a cup, took a sip, and shook +his head violently. + +"Ouch! I said hot, not boiling." He blew on the cup and set it aside to +steam itself cool. + +"These mountains were an excellent base," he continued, "but this area +seems to be developing perfectly. There's no outside interference, all +traces of former interference have been eliminated, and there's very +little excuse for us to hang around." He picked up the cup again, +cautiously sampling its contents. "And it's about time we moved around +and checked on the rest of the planet." + +Banasel turned back to the workbench. "Good idea," he agreed. "I'll get +this scanner set up again, and we'll be ready to load out." He picked up +his tools. "As I remember, Norlar has a mountainous backbone where no +one ever goes. We should be able to set up right on the island." + + * * * * * + +On the eastern slope of the Midra Kran, a cloud of dust paced a caravan, +which wound up the trail, through a pass. The treachery of the narrow +path was testified to by an occasional slither, followed by a startled +curse. + +Musa stood in his stirrups, looking ahead at the long trail which +twisted a little farther up, then dropped to the wide Jogurthan plateau. +Far ahead, over the poorly marked way, he knew, was another range, the +Soruna Kran, which blocked his way to the Eastern Sea. + +He looked back at the straggling caravan. + +"Better get them to close up, Baro," he remarked. "We'd be in a lot of +trouble if a robber band caught us scattered like this." + +The other trader nodded and turned his mount. Then, he paused as shouts +came from the rear of the line. Mixed with the shouting was the clatter +of weapons. + +"Come on," cried Musa. "It's happened." + +He kicked his mount in the ribs, and swung about, starting up the steep +bank. The bandits would have bowmen posted to deal with anyone who might +try to get back along the narrow path, and he had no desire to test the +accuracy of their aim. + +As his beast scrambled up the bank, Musa saw a man standing on a +pinnacle, alertly watching the center of the caravan. His guess had been +right. The bandit leader's strategy had been to cut the caravan in two, +and to deal with the rear guard first. As the watcher started to aim at +something down on the trail, Musa quickly raised his own bow and sent an +arrow to cut the man down before he could fire. + +It was a good shot. The man made no sound as the arrow struck, but +clawed for an instant at the shaft in his side, then dropped, to slide +down the face of a low cliff. Musa, followed by his guards, stormed up +the slope. + +They went through a saddle in the hill, to find themselves confronted by +a half dozen men, who swung about, trying to bring their bows to bear on +the unexpected targets. Two of these went down as arrows sang through +the air, then the traders were upon the rest, swords flailing, too close +for archery. + +One of the bandits swung his sword wildly at Musa, who had drawn a twin +to that blade he had sold back in Karth. The slender shaft of steel rang +against the bandit's bronze blade, deflecting it, then Musa made a quick +thrust which passed through the man's leather shield, to penetrate +flesh. The bronze weapon sagged, and its holder staggered. Musa jerked +back violently, disengaged his sword, and made a swift cut. For an +instant, the bandit sat his mount, staring at his opponent. Then, he +slumped, and rolled loosely from his saddle. + +The action had been fast. Only one bandit, a skilled swordsman, +remained, to keep Baro busy. Musa rode quickly behind him, thrusting as +he passed. Baro looked across the limp body. + +"Now, what did you have to do that for?" he demanded. "I was having a +good time." + +"Let's get down to the trail again," Musa told him. "We can have a +wonderful time there." He pointed. + +The caravan's rear guard was in trouble. Several of them were in the +dust of the trail, and the survivors were being pressed by a number of +determined swordsmen. + +Baro wheeled and slid down the incline, closely followed by the rest of +the group. + +The surrounded bandits fought desperately, but hopelessly. The charge +from the hill had driven them off balance, and they were never given a +chance to recover. At last, Musa and Baro looked over the results of the +raid. + +They had lost several guards. One trader, Klaron, had been killed by an +arrow launched early in the attack. Several of the survivors were +wounded. + +"We'll have to hire some more guards and drivers in Jogurth," said Baro. +"And what are we going to do about Klaron's goods?" + +"We can divide them and sell them in Jogurth," Musa told him. "Klaron +has a brother back in Karth who can use the money, and money's a lot +easier to carry than goods. You'll see him on your return trip." + +Baro nodded, and started up the line, reorganizing the caravan. At last, +they got under way again, and resumed their slow way toward the plateau. + + * * * * * + +The caravan went on, to enter the plateau, where the traders started +resting by day and traveling by night, to avoid exertion during the +day's heat. + +They came to the city of Jogurth, which for most of them was a terminal. +From there, they would return to Karth, a few possibly going on to their +homes still farther west. Musa stayed in town for a few days, trading +his few remaining eastern goods for locally produced articles, and +helping in the sale of Klaron's goods. At last, he joined another +caravan, headed by an old trader, Kerunar, who habitually traveled +between Jogurth and Manotro, on the east coast. + +The trip across the Soruna Kran was uneventful, and Musa finally saw the +glint of the Eastern Sea. He did not stay long in Manotro, for he +discovered that the small channel ships traveled frequently, and he was +able to guide his pack beasts to the wharf, where his bales were +accepted for shipment. Leaving his goods, he led his animals back to the +market. + +Old Kerunar shook his head when he saw Musa. "Be careful, son," he +cautioned. "I've been coming here for twenty years. Used to trade in +Norlar, too. But you couldn't get me over there now for ten thousand +caldor." + +"Oh?" Musa looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?" + +Kerunar looked at his newly set up booth. Hung about it were durable +goods and trinkets from a dozen cities. There were articles even from +far-off Telon, in the Konassan gulf. He looked back at Musa. + +"Norlar," he declared, "has fallen into the hands of thieves and +murderers. You can trade there, to be sure. You can even make a profit. +But you cannot be sure you will not excite the avarice of the Kondarans, +or arouse their anger. For they have a multitude of strange laws, which +they can invoke against anyone, and which they enforce with +confiscation of goods. Death or slavery await any who protest their +actions or question their rules." He paused. + +[Illustration] + +"Some manage to trade, and come back with profitable bales. Some leave +their goods in the hands of the priests of Kondaro. Some remain, to find +a quick death. But I stop here. I prefer to deal with honorable men. +When I face the thief or the bandit, I prefer to have a weapon in my +hand. A book of strange laws can be worse than any bandit born." + +Musa looked about the market. "Here, of course," he acknowledged, "are +the goods of the Far East. But I must see them at their source." He +shook his head. "No," he decided, "I shall make one trip at least." + +"I'll give you just one word of caution, then," he was told. "Whatever +you see, make little comment. Whenever you are asked for an offering, +make no objection, but give liberally. Keep your eyes open and your +opinions to yourself." + +"Thanks." Musa grinned. "I'll try to remember." + +"Don't just remember. Follow the advice, if you wish to return." + +Musa's grin widened. "I'll be back," he promised. + + * * * * * + +The harbor of Tanagor, chief seaport of Norlar, was full of shipping. +Here were the ships which plied the trackless wastes of the Eastern Sea. +Huge, red-sailed, broad-beamed, they rode at anchor in the harbor, +served by small galleys from the city. Tied up at the wharves, were the +smaller, yellow and white-sailed ships which crossed the channel between +the mainland and the island empire. + +Slowly, Musa's ship drew in toward the wharf, where a shouting gang of +porters and stevedores awaited her arrival. Together with other +passengers, Musa stood at the rail, watching the activity on the pier. + +Four slaves, bearing a crimson curtained litter, came to the wharf and +stopped. The curtains opened, and a man stepped out. He was not large, +nor did his face or figure differ from the normal. But his elegantly +embroidered crimson and gold robes made him a colorfully outstanding +figure, even on this colorful waterfront. And the imperious assurance of +his bearing made him impossible to ignore. + +He adjusted his strangely shaped, flat cap, glanced about the wharf +haughtily, and beckoned to one of the slaves, who reached inside the +litter and took from it an ornately decorated crimson chest. Another +slave joined him, and the two, carrying the chest with every evidence of +reverent care, followed their crimson-cloaked master as he strode into a +pier office. + +Musa turned to one of the other merchants, his eyebrows raised +inquiringly. + +"A priest of Kondaro," whispered the other. "In this land, they are +supreme. Take care never to anger one of them, or to approach too +closely to the sacred chest their slaves carry. To do so can mean prompt +execution." + +As Musa started to thank the man for his friendly warning, a cry of +"Line Ho!" caused him to turn his attention to the mooring parties. +Lines had been cast aboard at bow and stern, and the ship was rapidly +being secured to stout bollards ashore. + +A gang of stevedores quickly rigged a gangway amidships, and porters +commenced streaming aboard to carry the cargo ashore. Another gangway +was rigged aft for the passengers. At the foot of this, stood one of the +priest's litter bearers, a slave with a crimson loincloth. In his hands, +he held a large, red bowl, which was decorated with intricate gold +designs. Beside him, stood his companion, a sturdy, frowning fellow, who +held a large, strangely shaped sword in his hand. Musa's previous mentor +leaned toward him nodding to the group. + +"Don't forget or fail to put a coin in that bowl," he cautioned. +"Otherwise, you'll never get passage on one of the sacred ships." + +"How much?" queried Musa. + +"The more, the better. If you want quick passage across the Great Sea, +better make it at least ten caldor." + +Musa shrugged, reaching into his purse for a gold coin. + +"Maybe I should be in the priesthood myself, instead of the trading +business," he told himself silently. + +As he passed the bowl, he noted that the other trader dropped only a +silver piece. On the wharf, the incoming passengers were being guided +into groups. Musa noted that his group was the smallest, and that his +previous friend had gone to another, larger group. An official, tablet +in hand, approached. + +"Your name, Traveler?" + +"Musa, trader, of Karth." + +"You have goods?" + +"I brought twelve bales. They are marked with my name." + +"Very good, sir. We will hold them for your disposal. You may claim them +at any time after mid-day." The man wrote rapidly on his tablet. + +Musa thanked him, then turned to see how his shipboard acquaintance was +progressing. He had questions to ask about gold and silver coins. + +He watched the older merchant complete his conversation with an +official, and, as he started to leave the wharf, quickly caught up with +him. At Musa's approach, the other held up a hand. + +"I know," he said. "Why did I tell you to make a generous offering, then +put a smaller coin in the bowl myself? That is what you want to know?" + +"Precisely," Musa replied. "I'm not a poor man, but I'm not a wealthy +holiday seeker, either. This voyage has to pay." + +The other smiled. "Exactly why I advised you as I did. Come into this +wineshop, and I'll tell you the story." + + * * * * * + +Over the drinks, the older man explained himself. An experienced trader, +he had been operating between the mainland and Norlar for many years. It +had been a profitable business, for the island had been dependent upon +the mainland for many staple items, and had in return furnished many +items of exquisite craftsmanship, as well as the produce of its +extensive fisheries and pearl beds. + +Then, the prophet, Sira Nal, had come with his preachings of a great sea +god, Kondaro, ruler of the Eastern Sea. Tonda told of the unbelief that +had confronted the prophet, and of the positive proof that Sira Nal had +offered, when he had gathered a group of converts, collected enough +money to purchase a ship, and made a highly successful voyage to the +distant lands to the east. Upon his return, Sira Nal had found a ready +market for the strange and wonderful products he had brought. He also +had found many more converts for his new religion. + +His original group, now a priesthood, were the only men who could give +protection and guidance to a ship in a voyage past the sea demons who +frequented the Eastern Sea, and they demanded large offerings to +compensate for their services. Of course, a few adventurous shipowners +had attempted to duplicate Sira Nal's feat without the aid of a priest, +but no living man had seen their ships or crews again. + +The profits from the rich, new trade, plus the alms of the traders +visiting Tanagor, had rapidly filled the coffers of Kondaro. A great +temple had been built, and the priests had become more and more +powerful, until now, not too many years after the first voyage of Sira +Nal, they virtually ruled the island. + +For some years, Tonda, a conservative man and a firm believer in his own +ancestral gods, had paid little attention to this strange, new religion. +Upon arrival at Tanagor, to be sure, he had sometimes placed small +offerings in the votive bowl, but more often, he had merely strode past +the Slave of Kondaro, and gone upon his affairs. + +At last, however, attracted by the great profits in the new, oversea +trade, he had decided to arrange for a voyage in one of the great ships. +Then, the efficiency of the priestly bookkeeping methods had become +apparent. The Great God had become incensed at Tonda's impiety during +his many previous trips across the channel, and a curse had been placed +upon him and upon his goods. Of course, if Tonda wished to do penance, +and to make votive offerings, amounting to about two thousand caldor, it +might be that the Great God would relent and allow his passage, but only +with new goods. His former possessions had been destroyed by the angry +Kondaro in his wrath at Tonda's attempts to place them in one of the +sacred ships. Empty-handed, Tonda had returned to the mainland. + +"But why did you return with more goods?" inquired Musa. + +Tonda smiled. "The wrath of Kondaro extends only to the Great Sea. And, +even though I cannot go farther east, trade here in Tanagor is quite +profitable." He paused, smiling, as he sipped his drink. + +"I think the priests like having a few penitents around to explain +things to newcomers, and to furnish examples of the power of Kondaro." + +Musa smiled in response. "But my ten caldor make me and my goods +acceptable?" + +Tonda looked around quickly, then turned a horrified face toward his +protege. + +"Never say such things," he cautioned in a low tone of voice. "Don't +even think them. Your piety makes you acceptable, so long as you +continue in a way pleasing to the great Kondaro. The money means +nothing. It is only the spirit of sacrifice that counts." + +"I see." Musa's face was solemn. "And how else may I be sure I will +remain acceptable?" + +Tonda nodded approvingly. "I thought you were a man of good sense and +prudence." He launched into a description of the technicalities of the +worship of Kondaro, the god of the Eastern Sea. + +At length, Musa left his tutor, and repaired to an inn, where he secured +lodging for the night. + + * * * * * + +The following morning, in obedience to the advice given him by Tonda, +Musa took his way toward the Temple of the Sea. As he threaded through +the crowds already gathering in the streets, he took note of the types +of merchandise displayed in the booths, and hawked by the street +peddlers. Suddenly, one of these roving sellers approached him. In his +hands he held a number of ornaments. + +"Good day to you, oh Traveler," he cried. "Surely, it is a fortunate +morning for both of us." With a deft gesture, he threw one of the +trinkets, a cunningly contrived amulet, about Musa's neck. + +Musa would have brushed the man aside, but the chain of the amulet had +tangled about his neck and he was forced to pause while removing it. + +"I told myself when I saw you," the man continued, "ah, Banasel, here is +one who should be favored by the gods. Now, how can such a one venture +upon the Eastern Sea without a sacred amulet?" + +Musa had slipped the chain over his head. He paused, holding the +ornament in his hand. "How, then, are you to know where I am going?" + +"Oh, Illustrious Traveler," exclaimed the man, "how can I fail to know +these things when it is given to me to vend these amulets of great +fortune?" + +In spite of himself, Musa was curious. He looked at the amulet. There +was no question as to the superb workmanship, and his trading instincts +took over. + +"Why, this is a fair piece of work," he said. "Possibly I could spare a +caldor or so." + +The man before him struck his forehead. + +"A caldor, he says! Why, the gold alone is worth ten." + +Musa looked more closely at the ornament. The man was probably not +exaggerating too much. Actually, he knew he could get an easy +twenty-five balata for the bauble in Karth. A rapid calculation told him +that here was a possible profit from the skies. + +"Why, possibly it is worth five, at that," he said. "Look, I'll be +generous. Shall we say six?" + +"Oh, prince of givers! Thou paragon of generosity! After all, I, too, +must live." The man smiled wryly. "However, you are a fine, upstanding +young man, and one must make allowance. I had thought to ask twenty, but +we'll make it ten. Just the price of the gold." + +Musa smiled inwardly. The profit was secured, but maybe-- + +"Let's make it eight, and I'll give you my blessing with the money." + +The man held out his hand. "Nine." + +Musa shrugged. "Very well, most expert of vendors." He reached into his +purse. + + * * * * * + +Banasel hesitated before accepting the money. He looked Musa over +carefully, then nodded as if satisfied. + +"Yes," he said softly, "I was right." He paused, then addressed himself +directly to Musa. + +"We must be very careful to whom we sell these enchanted amulets," he +explained, "for they are talismans of the greatest of powers. The wearer +of one of these need never fear the unjust wrath of man, beast, or +demon, for he has powerful protectors at his call. Only wear this charm. +Never let it out of your possession, and you will have nothing to fear +during your voyage. Truly, you will be most favored." + +He looked sharply at Musa again, took the money, glanced at it, and +dropped it into a pouch. + +"Do you really believe in the powers of your ornaments, then?" Musa +asked skeptically. + +Banasel's eyes widened, and he spread his arms. "To be sure," he said in +a devout tone. "How can I believe else, when I have seen their +miraculous workings so often?" He held up a hand. "Why, I could spend +hours telling you of the powers these little ornaments possess, and of +the miracles they have been responsible for. None have ever come to harm +while wearing one of these enchanted talismans. None!" He spread his +arms again. + +Musa looked at him curiously. "I should like to hear your stories some +day," he said politely. + +He felt uncomfortable, as many people do when confronted by a confessed +fanatic. His feelings were divided between surprise, a mild contempt, +and an unease, born of wonder and uncertainty. + +Obviously, the man was not especially favored. He was dressed like any +street peddler. He had the slightly furtive, slightly brazen air of +those who must avoid the anger, and sometimes the notice, of more +powerful people, and yet, who must ply their trade. But he talked +grandly of the immense powers of the baubles he vended, seeming to hold +them in a sort of reverence. And, when he had spread his arms, there had +been a short-lived hint of suppressed power. Musa shuddered a little. + +"But I must go to the temple now, if I am to make arrangements for my +voyage," he added apologetically. He turned away, then hurried down the +street. + +Banasel watched him go, a slight smile growing on his face. + +"I don't blame you, Pal," he chuckled softly. "I'd feel the same way +myself." + +He glanced around noting a narrow alley. Casually, he walked into it, +then looked around carefully. No one could observe him. He straightened, +dropping the slightly disreputable, hangdog manner, then reached for his +body shield controls. + +Quickly, he cut out visibility, then actuated the levitator modulation +and narrowed out of the alley, rose over the city, and headed toward the +rugged mountains that formed the backbone of the island. + + * * * * * + +Lanko was waiting, and quickly lowered the base shield. + +"Well," he asked, "how did it go?" + +"I found him." Banasel walked over to the cabinets, and started sorting +the goods he had been carrying. "Sold him a miniature communicator. Now, +I hope he wears the thing." + +"We'll have to keep a close watch on him," commented Lanko, "just in +case he puts it in his luggage and forgets about it. Did you give him a +good sales talk?" + +"Sure. Told him to wear it always. I pawed the air, raved a little, and +made him think I was crazy. But I've an idea he'll remember and grab the +thing if he sees trouble coming." Banasel put the last ornament in its +place, and started unhooking his personal equipment. Then, he turned. + +"Look," he commented, "why bother with all this mystic business? We've +got mentacoms. Why not just clamp onto him, and keep track of him that +way? It'd be a lot simpler. Less chance of a slip, too." + +"Yeah, sure it would." Lanko gave his companion a disgusted look. "But +have you ever tried that little trick?" + +"No. I never had the occasion, but I've seen guardsmen run remote +surveillances, and even exert control when necessary. They didn't have +any trouble. We could try it, anyway." + +Lanko sat up. "We could try it," he admitted, "but I know what would +happen. I did try it once, and I found out a lot of things--quick." He +looked into space for a moment. "How old are you, Banasel?" + +"Why, you know that. I'm forty-one." + +Lanko nodded. "So am I," he said. "And our civilization is a few +thousand years old. And our species is somewhat older than that. We were +in basic Guard training, and later in specialist philosophical training +together. It took ten years, remember?" + +"Sure. I remember every minute of it." + +"Of course you do. It was that kind of training. But how old do you +think some of those young guardsmen we worked with were?" + +"Why, most of 'em were kids, fresh from school." + +"That they were. But how many years--our years--had they spent in their +schooling? How old were the civilizations they came from? And how old +were their species?" + +Lanko eyed him wryly. + +Banasel looked thoughtfully across the room. "I never thought of it that +way. Why, I suppose some of their forefathers were worrying about space +travel before this planet was able to support life. And, come to think +of it, I remember one of them making a casual remark about 'just a +period ago,' when he was starting citizen training." + +"That's what I mean." Lanko nodded emphatically. "'Just a period.' Only +ten or twelve normal lifetimes for our kind of people. And his +civilization's just as old compared to ours as he is compared to +us--older, even. + +"During that period he was so casual about, he was learning--practicing +with his mind, so that the older citizens of the galaxy could make full +contact with him without fear of injuring his mentality. He was learning +concepts that he wouldn't dare even suggest to you or to me. Finally, +after a few more periods, he'll begin to become mature. Do you think we +could pick up all the knowledge and training back of his handling of +technical equipment in a mere ten years of training?" + +Banasel reached up, taking the small circlet from his head. He held it +in his hand, looking at it with increased respect. + +"You know," he admitted, "I really hadn't thought of it that way. They +taught me to repair these things, among other pieces of equipment, and +most of the construction is actually simple. They taught me a few uses +for it, and I thought I understood it. + +"Of course, I knew we were in contact with an advanced culture, and I +knew that most of those guys we treated so casually had something that +took a long time in the getting, but I didn't stop to think of the real +stretch of time and study involved." He leaned back, replacing the +mentacom on his head. "Somehow, they didn't make it apparent." + +"Of course they didn't." Lanko spread his hands a little. "One doesn't +deliberately give children a feeling of inferiority." + +"Yeah. Will we ever learn?" + +"Some. Some day. But we've got a long, lonely road to travel first." +Lanko stood up and adjusted the communicator. + +"Right now, though, we'd better keep tabs on Musa. In fact, we'd better +follow him when he leaves here." + + * * * * * + +The temple of Kondaro, the sea god, had been built at the edge of a +cliff, so that it overlooked the Eastern Sea. The huge, white dome +furnished a landmark for mariners far out at sea, and dominated the +waterfront of Norlar. Atop the dome, a torch provided a beacon to +relieve the blackness of moonless nights. This was the home of the +crimson priests, and the center of guidance for all who wished to sail +eastward. + +Musa stood for some time, admiring the temple, then walked between the +carefully clipped hedges and up the long line of steps leading to the +arched entrance. + +Again, he stopped. Overhead, the curved ceiling of the main dome was +lower than its outer dimensions would lead one to believe, but Musa +hardly noticed that. He gazed about the main rotunda. + +It was predominantly blue. The dome was a smooth, blue sky, and the +smooth blueness continued down the walls. The white stone steps were +terminated at the edges of a mosaic sea, which stretched to the far +walls, broken only by a large statue of the sea god. Kondaro stood in +the center of his temple, facing the entrance. One arm stretched out, +the hand holding a torch, while the other arm cradled one of the great +ships favored by the god. Beneath one foot was one of the batlike sea +demons, its face mirroring ultimate despair. About the feet lapped +conventionally sculptured waves, which melted into the mosaic, to be +continued to the walls by the pattern of the tiles. At the far side of +the rotunda, the double stairs, which led to bronze doors, were almost +inconspicuous, seeming to be a vaguely appearing mirage on the horizon +of a limitless sea. + +The trader looked at the far side, then down, and hesitated, feeling as +though he were about to walk on water. Then, he turned, remembering the +pedestal nearby. A crimson bowl rested on this stand, and beside it was +a slave in the crimson loincloth which marked the menials of Kondaro. + +Musa stepped over to the pedestal, dropped a coin into the bowl, and +walked toward the rear of the temple, making proper obeisance to the +huge statue. A young priest approached him. + +"I crave blessings for a voyage I propose to take," announced the +trader. + +The priest inclined his head. + +"Very well, Traveler, follow me." + +He led the way to a small office. An older priest sat at a large table, +reading a tablet. Conveniently placed were writing materials, and on the +table before him was another votive bowl. Musa dropped a coin into the +bowl, and the priest looked up. + +"I bring a voyager, O, Wise One," said the young priest. + +"It is well," the older priest acknowledged in a deep voice. He turned +to Musa. "Your name, Voyager?" + +Musa gave his name, his age, the amount of his goods, and an account of +his actions since his arrival in Tanagor. At the mention of Tonda, the +priest nodded. + +"The actions of Tonda have been most exemplary for the past several +seasons," he remarked. "He is a good man, but he lacks the proper spirit +of sacrifice." He concluded his writing. + +"Well, then, Musa, you may go to those who sail ships with the blessing +of Kondaro upon you. I shall only caution you as to the observance of +the rites and laws for those who sail the Great Sea. Go now, in peace." + +As Musa turned, the younger priest spoke. "I will lead you to one who +will give you further guidance," he said. + +Musa followed him to another small room, where he met still another +priest. This man, he discovered, was a shrewd trader in his own right. +He was familiar with goods and their values, and in addition to the +rites he described, he presented definite advice as to what to take and +what to leave behind. Fortunately, Musa discovered as he talked to this +priest, he had picked very nearly as good a selection as he could wish. + +[Illustration] + +During the days that followed, Musa made more votive offerings, +practiced the rites ordered by the priest, and watched his goods as they +were delivered to the _Bordeklu_, a ship belonging to Maladro, beloved +of Kondaro, a shipowner whose ships were permitted by the sea god and +his priests to sail the Eastern Sea. + +At last, the day arrived when Musa himself boarded the ship and set sail +past the headland of Norlar. + + * * * * * + +As the ship was warped out of the harbor, Musa took stock of his fellow +passengers. Among them were a slender, handsome man named Ladro, who had +been on many previous voyages to the land of the East, and Min-ta, a +native of the eastern continent, who was returning from a trading voyage +to Norlar. There were several others, but they kept to themselves, +seeming to radiate an aura of exclusiveness. Ladro and Min-ta on the +other hand, were more approachable. + +_Surely_, thought Musa, _these two can teach me a great deal of the land +I am to visit, if they will_. + +He walked over to the rail, where the two stood, looking out over the +shoreline. The ship was coming abreast of the great temple of Kondaro. + +"It's the most prominent landmark on the island, isn't it?" Musa +commented. + +"What?" Ladro turned, looking at him curiously. "Oh, yes," he said, "the +temple. Yes, it's the last thing you see as you leave, and the first +when you return." He paused, examining Musa. "This is your first trip?" + +"Yes, it is. I've always traded ashore before this." + +"But you finally decided to visit Kneuros?" + +"Yes. I've dealt with a few traders who had goods from there, and their +stories interested me." + +Ladro smiled. "Romance of the far places?" + +"Well, there's that, too," Musa admitted, "but I'm interested in some of +the merchandise I've seen." + +"There's profit in it," agreed Ladro. "How long have you been trading +around Norlar?" + +"This is my first trip. I'm from Karth, in the Galankar." + +"You mean you were never in Norlar before?" Min-ta joined the +conversation. + +Musa shook his head. "I left Karth for the purpose of trading east of +the Great Sea." + +"Unusual," mused Min-ta. "Most traders work between Tanagor and the +mainland for several years before they try the Sea." + +"Yes," added Ladro, "and some never go out. They satisfy themselves with +the channel trade." He pointed. "We're getting out to the open sea now, +past the reef." + +The ship drew away from the island kingdom, setting its course toward +the vague horizon. The day wore on, to be replaced by the extreme +blackness of night. Then, the sky lit up again, heralding another day. + +The ship's company had settled to sea routine, and the traders roamed +about their portion of the deck, talking sometimes, or napping in the +sun. Musa leaned over the low rail, watching the water, and admiring the +clear, blue swells. + +He raised his head as the door of the forward cabins opened. A priest, +followed by a group of slaves, went up to the raised forecastle. Under +the priest's direction, the slaves busied themselves putting up a high, +crimson and yellow curtain across the foredeck. They completed their +task and went below. + +Again, the door opened, and a procession, headed by the chief priest, +slowly mounted the ladder to the forecastle. Each of the three priests +was followed by his slave, who bore a crimson casket. The curtain closed +behind them, then the slaves came out and ranged themselves across the +deck, facing aft. + +"I wonder," said Musa, turning to Ladro, "what ritual they are +performing." + +Ladro shook his head. "The less a man knows of the activities of the +priests, the better he fares," he declared. "Truly, on a great ship, +curiosity is a deadly vice." + +Musa nodded to the stern. "I see that one of the priests is not at the +bow." + +"That is right. One priest always remains by the steersman, to ward off +the spells of the sea demons." Ladro paused, pointing overside. "See," +he said in a pleased tone, "here is an envoy from Kondaro." + + * * * * * + +Musa's gaze followed the pointing finger. A huge fish was cruising +alongside, gliding effortlessly through the waves, and occasionally +leaping into the air. + +"An envoy?" + +"Yes. So long as a kontar follows a ship, fair weather and smooth +sailing may be expected. They are sent by Kondaro as guardians for +those ships he especially favors." + +At a call from the priest in the stern, two sailors appeared, carrying +chunks of meat. As the priest chanted, they tossed these overside. The +great fish rose from the water, catching one of the chunks as it fell, +then dropped back, and the water frothed whitely as he retrieved the +other. He gulped the meat, then swam contentedly, still pacing the ship. + +"Suppose someone fell overboard?" Musa gazed at the kontar in +fascination. + +Ladro and Min-ta exchanged glances. + +"If one is favored by the Great One," replied Min-ta slowly, "it is +believed that the kontar would guard him from harm. Otherwise, the +sacrifice would be accepted." + +Musa looked at the clear water, then glanced back to the spot of foam +which drew astern. + +"I don't believe I'll try any swimming from the ship." He backed +slightly from the rail, glancing quickly at Ladro and Min-ta, then +looking away again. + +He suddenly realized that he had exceeded his quota of questions, and +that he could get into trouble. He had noted that most of the ship's +company appeared to know the other traders aboard, even though some of +them hadn't been to sea before. Min-ta and Ladro were obviously well +acquainted with several of the ship's officers. But he, Musa, was a +stranger. + +He had already observed that the priesthood of Kondaro was not averse to +a quick profit, and that they placed a low value on the lives and +possessions of others. He had dealt with tribes ashore, who had the +simple, savage ethic: + +"He is a stranger? Kill him! Take his goods, and kill him." + +Ashore, he had protected himself during his many trips by consorting +with other traders of good reputation, and by hiring guards. But here? +He remembered the remarks made by Kerunar back in Manotro. + +"When I face the thief or the bandit, I prefer to have a weapon in my +hand." + +Slowly, he collected himself, and looked back at Ladro and Min-ta. + +"If you gentlemen will excuse me," he apologized, "I have some accounts +to cast, so I believe I'll go to my quarters." He turned and went below. + +As he disappeared down the ladder, Ladro turned to his companion. + +"Of course," he said thoughtfully, "if all goes well, this man will be +most favored. But if the Great One shows signs of displeasure--" + +Min-ta nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "I have heard of strangers who excited +the wrath of Kondaro." His eyes narrowed speculatively. "Those of the +faithful who keep watch on such unfavored beings are rewarded by the +priests, I am told." + +Ladro nodded. "I believe that is correct," he agreed. "We should be +watchful for impiety in any event." He stretched. "Well, I think I shall +take a short nap before dinner." + +Below, the traders' quarters were cramped. There was a small, common +space, with a table, over which hung the single light. About the +bulkheads were curtained recesses, sufficiently large for a bunk and +with barely enough space for the occupant to stand. Musa closed the +curtains, and sat down on his bunk. + +Of course, he had no proof. There was no really logical sequence to +prove that the situation was dangerous. There was no evidence that his +fellow voyagers were other than honorable, well-intentioned men. But he +simply didn't feel right. He pulled his wooden chest from under the +bunk, opened it, and looked through the small store of personal effects. + +There was no weapon. The law of Kondaro forbade the carrying of those by +other than the priests and their slaves. His attention was attracted by +a glitter, and he picked up the small amulet he had bought from the +peddler in Norlar. Slowly, he turned it in his hands. + +It was an unusual ornament, strangely wrought. He had never seen such +fine, regular detail, even in the best handicraft. As he looked closer, +he could not see how it could have been accomplished with any of the +instruments he was familiar with, yet it must have been hand made, +unless it were actually of supernatural origin. + +He remembered the urgent seriousness of the peddler's attitude, and he +could recall some of his words. The man had spoken almost convincingly +of powerful protectors, and Musa could foresee the need of such. He +found himself speaking. + +"Oh, power that rests in this amulet," he said, "if there is any truth +in the peddler's words, I--" He paused, his usual, hard, common sense +taking over. + +"I'm being silly!" He drew his hand back to throw the ornament into the +chest. Then, he felt himself stopped. An irresistible compulsion seized +him, and he dazedly secured the amulet about his neck. Feeling sick and +weak, he tucked it into his garments. Then, still moving in a daze, he +left the cabin and returned to the deck. He did not so much as try to +resist the sudden desire. + +The breeze made him feel a little better, but he was still shaken, and +his head ached violently. Little snatches of undefined memory tried to +creep into his consciousness, but he couldn't quite bring them into +focus. He turned toward the rail, and saw Min-ta still there. + +"Well," commented the easterner, "your accounts didn't take long." + +Musa smiled wanly. "It was stuffy down there. I felt I had to come up +for some air." + +Min-ta nodded. "It does get close in the quarters during the day." He +pointed alongside. + +"We are favored still," he said. "Another kontar has joined us." + +Two of the great fish paced the ship, gliding and leaping effortlessly +from wave to wave. Musa watched them. + +"We must be favored indeed." + +"Yes." Min-ta smiled. "May our favor last." + +Musa's head still ached, and the glints of the sun reflected from the +water made it worse. He looked aft, to the faint line where sky met +water. There was a low line of clouds. His gaze traveled along the +horizon, and he noted that the clouds seemed a little darker forward. +Still, he felt uneasy, and alone. + + * * * * * + +_"See what I meant?"_ + +_"Ooh! Yeah. Yeah, I see. What a backlash that was! I've got the +grandfather of all headaches, and I won't be able to think straight for +a week. Wonder how Musa feels--But I got results, anyway."_ + +_"Yes. You got results. So did I once, when I tried something similar. +But I'll live a long time before I try it again. How about you?"_ + +_"Don't worry. Next time I try to exert direct mental control on another +entity, this planet'll have space travel. Wonder if some klordon +tablets'll help any."_ + +_"Might. Try one, then let's get busy and scatter a few more +communicators around that ship. Be more practical than beating our +brains out."_ + + * * * * * + +As the days passed, Musa became familiar with the shipboard routine and +lost some of his early uneasiness regarding his traveling companions. He +became acquainted with other traders, finding them to be average men, +engaged in the same trade as himself. He talked to members of the ship's +company, and found them to be normal men, who worked at their trade in a +competent manner. Only the four priests held aloof. Ignoring officers, +sailors, and traders alike, they spoke only to their slaves, who passed +their comments to the ship's company. + +On the morning of the tenth day, Musa came to the deck, to find the sea +rougher than usual. Waves rose, scattering their white plumes for the +wind to scatter. Ahead, dark clouds hid the sky, and occasional spray +came aboard, spattering the deck and the passengers. + +Just outside the cabin entrance, a small knot of traders were gathered. +As Musa came out, they separated. + +Musa went over to the rail, looking overside at the waves. The two +kontars were not in sight. He looked about, noting the sailors, who +hurried about the deck and into the rigging, securing their ship for +foul weather. Close by, Ladro and Min-ta were talking. + +"It is quite possible," said Ladro, "that someone aboard has broken a +law of the great Kondaro, and the kontars have gone to report the sin." +He glanced at Musa calculatingly. + +"Yes," agreed Min-ta, "we--" + +An officer, hurrying along the deck, stopped. "All passengers will have +to go below," he said. "We're in for bad weather, and don't want to lose +anyone overboard." + +"Could this be the wrath of Kondaro?" asked Ladro. + +The officer glanced at him questioningly. "It could be, yes. Why?" + +Again, Ladro cast a look at Musa, then he caught the seaman by the arm, +pulling him aside. The two engaged in a low-toned conversation, +directing quick glances at Musa. At last, the officer nodded and went +aft, to approach one of the slaves of Kondaro. + +Musa started across the deck to the ladder, his heart thudding +painfully. Surely, he thought, he had done nothing to offend even the +most particular of deities. Yet, the implications of Ladro's glances and +his conversation with the ship's officer were too obvious for even the +dullest to misinterpret. Musa took a long, shuddering breath. + +His fears on that other day had been well grounded, then. + +He gazed at the lowering sky, then out at the waves. Where could a lone, +friendless man find help in this waste of wind and water? + +Slowly, he climbed down the ladder leading to his tiny cubicle. + +Once inside, he again started checking over his personal items. There +was nothing there to help. Hopelessly, he looked at the collection in +the chest, then he got out a scroll of prose and went to the central +table to read in an effort to clear his mind of the immediate +circumstances. + +Minutes later, he went back to his bunk and threw the scroll aside. +Possibly, he was just imagining that he was the target of a plot. +Possibly there was a real sea god named Kondaro--an omnipotent sea +deity, who could tell when persons within his domain were too curious, +or harbored impious thoughts, and who was capable of influencing the +actions of the faithful. + +Possibly, his opinions of the priesthood had been noted and had +offended. Or, perhaps, that peculiar little device he had seen a priest +studying was capable of warning the god that it had been profaned by an +unsanctified gaze. Possibly, this storm was really the result of such a +warning. He was sure the priest hadn't seen him, but it could be that +the device itself might-- + +Musa threw himself on his bunk. + + * * * * * + +A deep voice resonated through the room. + +"Musa of Karth," it said, "my master, Dontor, desires your presence on +deck." + +Musa came to his feet. Two of the slaves of Kondaro stood close by, +swords in hand. One beckoned, then turned. Musa followed him into the +short passage, and up the ladder. As they gained the deck, the small +procession turned aft, to face the senior priest. + +Dontor stood on the raised after deck, just in front of the helmsman. +The wind tugged at his gold and crimson robe, carrying it away from his +body, so that it rippled like a flag, and exposed the bright blue +trousers and jacket. Dontor, chief priest of the _Bordeklu_, stood +immobile, his arms folded, his feet braced against the sway of his +vessel. As the trio below him stopped, he frowned down at them. + +"Musa, of Karth," he intoned, "it has been revealed to me that you have +displayed undue curiosity as to the inner mysteries of the worship of +the Great God. In your conversations, you have hinted at knowledge +forbidden any but the initiated. + +"You came to us, a stranger, and we trusted you. But now, we are all +faced with the wrath of the Great One as a result of your impieties. A +sacrifice, and only a sacrifice, will appease this wrath. Can you name +any reason why we should protect you further, at the expense of our own +lives? What say you?" + +Musa stared up at him. The cotton in his throat had suddenly become +thick, and intensely bitter. Unsuccessfully, he tried to swallow, and a +mental flash told him that whatever he said, he was already convicted. +Regardless of what defense he might offer, he knew he would be condemned +to whatever punishment these people decided to deal out to him. And that +punishment, he realized, would be death. He straightened proudly. + +"Oh, priest," he said thickly, "I am guilty of no crime. You, however, +are about to commit a serious crime, which is beyond my power to +prevent." He hesitated, then continued. "Be warned, however, that if +there are any real gods above or below, you will receive punishment. The +gods, unlike men, are just!" + +Aware of sudden motion in his direction, he rapidly finished. + +"So, make your sacrifice, and then see if you can save your vessel from +the natural forces of wind and water." + +The priest stiffened angrily. + +"Blasphemy," he said. "Blasphemy, of the worst sort." He looked away +from Musa. "I believe that in this case, the Great One will require the +ship's company to deal with you in their own way, that they may be +purged of any contamination due to your presence." He raised his arms. + +"Oh, Great Kondaro, Lord of all the seas, and the things within the +seas," he began. + +Musa evaded the two slaves with a quick weave of his shoulders. Covering +the distance to the side of the ship with a few quick steps, he jumped +over the rail. As he fell, the wind tore at him, and his windmilling +arms and legs failed to find any purchase to right him. + +He hit the water with a splash and concussion that nearly knocked the +breath from his body, and promptly sank. As the water closed over his +head, he struck out with hands and feet in an effort to climb again to +light and air. His head broke the surface, and he flailed the water in +an effort to keep his nose in air. The ship was drawing away from him, +its storm sails set. + +As he struggled in the water, he wondered if it was worth while. After +all, he had only to allow himself to sink, and all his troubles would be +over shortly. Wouldn't it be easier to do this than to continue +torturing himself with a hopeless fight? + +Too, he wondered if he had been right in leaving the ship, but he +quickly dismissed that thought. The sea was impersonal, neither cruel +nor kind. It was far better, he thought, to surrender to the forces of +nature than to subject himself to the viciousness of angry men. + +Suddenly, a constraining force seized him. He instinctively fought to +free himself, then realized that he was being drawn upward, out of the +water. Possibly, he thought, the Great One wanted to speak to him. + + * * * * * + +He rose swiftly through the air, passed through complete darkness for an +instant, then found himself in a small room. Two men stood facing him, +both of them vaguely familiar. As his mind refocused, Musa recognized +the peddler of amulets, then the herder to whom he had once sold a +sword. They were strangely familiar, but they were in strange costumes. +He stared at them. + +"Well, Musa," said the herder. "I see you got into trouble." + +Musa blinked. "Who are you?" he demanded. "How do you know of my +affairs?" + +The peddler of amulets grinned. "Why, we are old companions, Musa," he +said. "Of course, you have forgotten us, but we never forgot you." He +pointed. + +"This is Resident Guardsman Lanko. I am Banasel, also of the Stellar +Guard. Our job is to prevent just such situations as the one you just +found yourself in." His grin faded. "That, and a few other things." + +Musa frowned. "Stellar Guard? What is that?" + +Lanko studied him for a moment, then crossed the small room. "You knew +once," he tossed over his shoulder, "but you rejected the knowledge, and +it had to be taken from you. Since you'll be working with us for a +while, I think we will have to restore your memories. Perhaps you'll +want to retain them." He removed equipment from a cabinet. + +"Some of this will have to be secondhand, since neither Banasel nor +myself have been in the spots shown. But some of it is firsthand." + +His hand flicked a switch. + +A power unit hummed, and Musa found himself recalling a campsite near +the now destroyed and rebuilt city of Atakar. As the imposed mental +blocks fell away, he remembered who Banasel and Lanko were. And he +realized why he had been drawn to them in the recent past. + +Memories of his days of slavery in Atakar flashed before his mind, and +he remembered the part these two had taken in his escape. He recalled +the days of banditry, and the strange visitors, who had brought with +them disturbing knowledge, and strange powers. + +He saw the destruction of Atakar, and the capture of the galactic +criminals who had depraved that city. He shared the experiences of his +two companions during their introduction to the advanced culture of the +Galactic Federation, and he saw snatches of their training at Aldebaran +Base. He went with them on some of their missions. + +The humming stopped, and he looked up at the two. + +"So," Lanko told him, "now you know." + +Musa nodded. "I turned something down, didn't I?" + + * * * * * + +As Musa disappeared over the vessel's side, the priest, Dontor, lowered +his arms. Quickly turning the unscheduled event to advantage, he cried, +"We need worry no further, my children. The Great One has called this +blasphemer to final account." + +He turned to one of his juniors, lowering his voice. + +"Go below, Alnar, and break out this man's goods. We must reward those +who informed us." + +The junior bowed. "Yes, sir." He hesitated. "Will this storm blow over +soon?" he queried. + +Dontor smiled. "You should have paid more attention to your course in +practical seamanship," he chided. "We are sailing fairly close hauled, +so our speed is added to that of the wind. And, since storms move, it'll +pass us shortly." He pointed to the horizon. + +"See that small break in the clouds? That indicates a possibility of +clear weather beyond. We should be through the worst of the storm in a +matter of a few hours. And we'll never reach the really dangerous core +of the storm, for we are passing through an edge of it. Our only problem +is to keep from losing a mast during the time we are close to the +storm's heart." He paused, looking aloft. + +"The crew is competent. They have the sails properly reefed, and, if +necessary, they can furl them in short order. What trouble can we have?" + +"Thank you, sir." The younger priest bowed again. "I will make the +necessary arrangements for those goods." + +Dontor stood for a moment, surveying the ship, then walked toward the +helm. + +"If I am ever in charge of operations," he told himself, "I will replace +some of these sailors by neophyte priests, and let them steer by their +own compasses. This method is too cumbersome. Besides, the neophytes +should get to sea earlier, anyway." + +He approached the pilot priest, who stood apart from the helmsman, his +slave holding the little red box with the compass. + +"How is our course?" + +The priest turned, then bowed. "We are off course twelve degrees to the +north, sir," he reported. "I have instructed the helmsman to come as +close to the wind as possible." + +Dontor nodded. "Very good," he approved. "Keep track of your time, and +we'll correct when we get a chance to shift course to the south. We can +determine whatever final correction is necessary at noon sight +tomorrow." + +Alnar came up the ladder to the quarterdeck. Approaching Dontor, he +bowed in salute, then reported. + +[Illustration] + +"The goods are ready, sir." + +"Very well. Find those two traders and give them the usual ten per cent, +then bring me an inventory of the remainder." + + * * * * * + +Musa stood, fists clenched, facing the recorder play-back. "The usual +ten per cent, he says! Why, I'd like to slaughter the lot of those +murdering thieves!" + +Lanko snapped off the switch. "Don't blame them too much," he laughed. +"After all, they're only trying to make a living, and it's the only +trade they know." + +As Musa nearly choked on his attempted reply, Banasel broke in. + +"Sure," he chuckled. "Besides, it's guys like them that keep guys like +us in business." + +Lanko noticed the horrified expression on Musa's face, and quickly +composed himself. He put his hand on the man's shoulder. + +"Look," he explained seriously, "if we got so we took people like these +to heart, we'd spend half our time getting psyched to unsnarl our own +mental processes." He gestured to the reels of tape in a cabinet. + +"Here, we have the records of hundreds of cases like this one. Some are +worse, some are not so bad. Every one of them had to be--and +was--cracked by members of our Corps. This is just another of those +minor, routine incidents that keep cropping up all over the galaxy. It's +our problem now, and we'll get to work on it." He turned. + +"Where do you want to start, Banasel?" + +"Well--competition's the life of trade." + +"That comes later." Lanko shook his head. "There's an alien or so to be +taken care of first, you know." + +"I know. It's fairly obvious." + +"So, we've got to find him--or them." + +Musa had regained his self-control. "What about these birds in hand?" + +Banasel shrugged. "Small fry. We'll take care of them later." He walked +over to the workbench, picking up Lanko's sword. + +"I wondered about this before," he said. "Now, I'm sure about it. It +simply doesn't match a normal technology for this period." + +Musa looked at him curiously. "But there are a lot of those around +Norlar," he said. "They're a rarity in the Galankar, to be sure, but--" + +"That's what we mean," Lanko told him. "Too many anachronisms. First, we +have this sword. Then, we meet these priests of Kondaro, who discuss +meteorology, navigation, and pilotage with considerable understanding. +We've had communicators planted on that ship for several days now, and I +still can't see how the technology was developed that allowed the +manufacture of some of their instruments. We should have noticed +something wrong a long time ago. + +"The priests use sextants, watches, compasses. And, just to make it +worse, we have one video recording of a priest laying out a course on an +accurate chart. He was using a protractor, which was divided into +Galactic degrees. That was the clincher. Somebody's out of place, and +we've got to find him--or them." + +He took the sword from Banasel. "I think we'd better go on to the +eastern continent, see what we can find, then we can deal with our +friends. But first, Ban, you'd better run out a call for one of the +Sector Guardsmen to back us up if necessary. We could run into something +too hot for us to handle." + +Banasel nodded and turned to the communicator. Lanko dropped into the +pilot seat, glanced at the screens, and moved controls. In the +viewscreen, the sea tilted, drew farther away, then became a level, +featureless blue expanse. + + * * * * * + +"Well, here's your eastern continent. In fact, this is the city of +Kneuros. It's where you wanted to go, isn't it?" + +Musa looked at Banasel thoughtfully. + +"Yes," he admitted. "It's where I thought I wanted to go, but now I +really know what I wanted in the first place." + +"Oh?" + +"Certainly. I was restless. I thought I liked being a trader in Karth, +and I was a fairly good trader, too. But I was just getting things at +secondhand. I turned down just what I really wanted, because it scared +me. That was a long time ago." He looked at the control panel. He'd +understood such panels once, some years ago. + +"How do you plan to find your aliens--if there are any?" + +"Search pattern." Lanko shrugged. "We'll cruise around in a grid pattern +until we pick up some sort of reading, or until we spot something +abnormal." He pointed at a series of instruments. + +"They're bound to have a ship somewhere, and we'll pick up a small +amount of power radiation from their screens. If their ship were +orbiting in space, we'd have picked it up long ago, so we must assume +it's grounded. I think we'd better go right into a pattern. We can use +Kneuros as origin." He stared at the plotting instruments. + +"Let's see. If I wanted to hide a ship, I'd use the most inaccessible +location I could find. We do that ourselves, in fact. And there are some +mountainous regions inland." He set up course and speed. + +"Yeah," Banasel added, "and I'd worry a lot more about ground approach +than air accessibility, at least on this planet." + +The ship gained altitude, accelerated, and sped eastward. + +Day by day, the course trace built up, the cameras recorded the terrain +under the ship, and the two guardsmen built up their mosaic. The ship +crossed and re-crossed the continent, mapping as it went. + +From time to time, Lanko made careful comparison of the new mosaic with +an earlier survey, noting differences. There were new settlements. Where +members of a nomadic culture had roamed the prairie, an industrial +civilization was rapidly growing. + +Lanko tapped on the map. "Two cultures," he observed. "Two cultures, +separated by mountains and desert. Absolutely no evidence of contact, +but considerable similarity between them. This pattern begins to look +familiar." + +He picked a tape from the shelves, ran it through a viewer, then +reversed it, and picked out various portions for recheck. Finally, he +made a superposition of some of their observation tape, examined it, and +turned. Banasel held up a hand. + +"Don't tell us," he growled. "I studied about drones, too." + +"Drones?" Musa looked at him, then glanced back at the viewer. + +"Yes. Characters from one of the advanced cultures, who feel frustrated, +and fail to fit in. They often turn into pleasure seekers, and +frequently end up by monkeying with primitive cultures, to prove their +ability to themselves, at least." + +"Things like this happen often?" + +"Oh, not too often, I suppose, but often enough so that people like us +are stationed on every known primitive planet, to prevent activity of +the type. You see, the drones usually start out simply, by setting up +minor interference in business or government on some primitive planet. +Usually, they're caught pretty quickly. But sometimes they evade +capture. And they can end up by exerting serious influence in cultural +patterns. Some planets have been set back, and even destroyed as a +result of drone activity. Although their motives are different, +drones're just as bad and just as dangerous as any other criminal." + +Lanko grinned a little. "Only difference is, they're usually easier to +combat than organized criminal groups with a real purpose. Generally, +they're irresponsible youngsters who don't have the weapons, +organization, or ability that the real criminals come up with." He +shrugged. + +"Of course," he added, "we've called for help just in case. But we'll +probably be able to take care of this situation by ourselves. In fact, +unless there are unusual features, we'd better, if we don't want to be +regarded as somewhat ineffectual." He paused, glanced toward the +detector set, and tapped on the map again, then slowly traced out an +area. + +"We should be picking up something pretty soon," he said, thoughtfully. +"Better set up a pattern around here, in the mountain ranges, Banasel. +We can worry about settled areas later." + + * * * * * + +A needle flickered, rose from zero, then steadied. + +Somewhere, back of the instrument panel, a tiny current actuated a micro +relay, and an alarm drop fell. + +As the warning buzz sounded, both Lanko and Banasel looked over at the +detector panel. + +"Well, it's about time." Lanko leaned to his right, setting switches. A +screen lit up, showing a faint, red dot. He touched the controls, +bringing the dot to center screen, then checked the meters. + +"Not too far," he remarked. "A little out of normal range, though. He +must have all his screen power on." + +Banasel turned back to the workbench, studied the labels on the drawers +for a moment, then opened one. + +"Guess we'll need a can opener?" + +"We might. If he's aboard, we may have to get a little rough." Lanko +leaned back. + +"Check the power pattern. Sort of like to know what we're running into +before we commit ourselves." He glanced again at the indicators, then +poked at switches. + +"In fact, I think we'd better wait right here, till we get this boy +identified." + +Banasel was whistling tunelessly as he set up readings on a computer. +Finally, he poked the activator bar, and watched as the machine spat out +tape. Above the tape chute, a series of graphs indicated the +computations, but Banasel ignored them, feeding the tape into another +machine. + +"I suppose there are some characters who could make a positive +identification from the figures and curves. But I'm just a beginner. +That's why they furnish integrator directories, I guess." + +Lanko smiled. "I don't know anything, either," he agreed. "But I +generally know where I can look up what I need." He set a compact reel +of tape into the computer. + +They watched the directory as its screens glowed. Figures and +descriptions shimmered, and there was a rapid ticking. A sheet flowed +out toward them, and Banasel tore it off as the ticks ceased. + +"Type seventeen screens," he read. "Probably Ietorian model Nan +fifty-seven generators. Strictly a sportster setup. He's got +electromagnetics and physical contact screens, but there's nothing else. +And, with the type of readings I've got here, I'd say he's running all +the power he's got. Do we go in?" + +"Sure we do." Lanko nodded confidently as he slapped the drive lever. + +"This thing we've got's only an atmosphere flier, but it's made to take +care of tougher stuff than luxury sportsters. Set up your can opener, +just in case our boy wants to argue with us." + +Banasel nodded silently. + +The small sportster was parked between two peaks. Before it was a tiny +level space, too small for any ship. Above it, towered bare rock, tipped +with eternal snow. Lanko examined the scene disgustedly. + +"Inhospitable, isn't he?" he grunted. "He could at least have had enough +front yard for a visitor to land." He picked up a microphone, touched a +stud, and turned a knob. A faint hiss sounded from the speaker before +him. + +"Philcor resident calling sportster," he snapped. "Come in, Over." + +The hiss continued. Lanko punched another stud, and listened. The hiss +remained unchanged. + +"Open him up, Banasel," he finally ordered. "I'm going in." + +He rose from his chair, crossing to the exit port. For an instant, he +stood, checking his equipment belt. Then, he reached to a cabinet, to +pick up a tool kit. He opened the box, examined its contents, then +turned and nodded to Banasel. + +The port opened wide, and he stepped through. + +He dropped lightly to the space before the sportster, then stepped away, +crouching behind a rock out-crop, and turned his body shield to full +power. + +"Screens down," he ordered. + + * * * * * + +A faint haze grew about the sportster. At first, it was a barely +perceptible fluorescence. Then, it became a fiercely incandescent glow. +It flamed for a few seconds, then faded, becoming green, yellow, red, +and at last, blinking to invisibility. + +"They're damped," Banasel's voice announced. "Shall I give him some more +and knock out the generators?" + +"Not necessary," Lanko told him. "Just hold complete neutralization. +I'll cut them from inside." + +He rose from his position behind the rock, idly kicking at the face of +it as he walked past. A shower of dust crumbled to the ground. + +"Good thing there aren't any trees around here," he laughed. "We'd have +to put out a forest fire." + +He pulled his hand weapon from his belt, made a careful adjustment, then +walked over to the ship. After a quick examination, he directed the +weapon toward a spot in the hull. + +"Lot of credits here," he commented laconically. "Shame to hurt the +finish too much." + +A few minutes later, he stepped back, examining his work. Then, he +nodded and removed another instrument from his tool kit. He focused it +on the ship's port, flicked a switch on his belt, then snapped the +instrument on. + +For a few seconds, nothing happened, then there was a grinding screech +of tortured metal, and the port swung open. + +As Lanko stepped inside, he examined the control room with care. At +last, satisfied that no booby traps were set, he crossed to the control +panel. He located the communicator controls, and picked up the +microphone. + +"All's well, Ban," he reported. "Ease off." + +He watched as the overloaded generator recovered. When the needles were +at normal readings, he flicked the screen controls off, then picked up +the microphone again. + +"Haul out, Banasel," he ordered. "I'm going to fix this can up again, +close the port, run up the screens, and wait for our boy to come home. +Like to talk to him." + + * * * * * + +The sportster had a well stocked galley. Lanko ate with enjoyment, +studying the tapes he had found interestedly. Finally, he pushed the +last reel aside, then sat back to gaze at the wall. + +A low tone sounded, and the viewscreen activated. Lanko nodded to +himself, then went to the control room aperture, turning off the alarm +as he went through. A few strides took him to the entry port, where he +waited, weapon in hand. + +The door swung open and Lanko touched his trigger. The newcomer's screen +flared briefly, then collapsed. Lanko stepped forward, examining his +prisoner. + +He was humanoid. There were some differences from the usual type +encountered on the planet, but they were not serious. He could have +passed in most of the Galankar, if not anywhere. Some might even be +attracted by his slightly unusual appearance. Lanko drew him into the +ship, and closed the port. + +He took his time, making a complete search of the captive's clothing, +and removing equipment and weapons. At last, he drew back, satisfied +that the being was harmless. He waited. It wouldn't be too long before +the business could begin. + +As the paralysis effect wore off, the man on the floor flexed his +muscles, then got to his feet. Lanko watched him, his weapon resting on +his knees. As the man tensed to spring, Lanko raised the weapon a +little. + +"You are Genro Kir?" + +"Who are you? What's the idea?" Kir reached for his belt, then dropped +his hand again as he found nothing there. + +"Resident Guardsman. Name's Lanko. You seem to be a little out of place +on this planet." + +"I'm not responsible to some native patrolman." Kir's face became +stubborn. "I'm a Galactic Citizen." + +"Possibly. We'll leave that to the Sector authorities." Lanko shrugged, +his face expressionless. "Meantime, you'll have to accept things as they +are. Or would you rather be paralyzed again?" + +Genro Kir tensed again, making an obvious mental effort. + +Lanko grinned at him in real amusement. "I took it. Wouldn't do you much +good anyway. They gave me heavy-duty equipment, you know." He waved +toward a chair with his weapon. "Might as well sit down and talk about +it. I've been through your tapes, of course." + +Kir looked around unhappily, then sank into a chair. "What's there to +talk about, then? You know what we were doing." + +"In general, yes, we do. A good deal was on your tapes. But we need more +detail, and we've got to pick up your companions, you know. It would be +a lot better if we knew where they were." + +"I don't know where they are myself. They're building up their forces, +and working for position. This is just the opening, you see. The real +game won't start for quite a while." + +Lanko laughed shortly. "Frankly, I don't think it will start. But it +would make it simpler for all concerned if you'd help us find the +players." + +"I told you. I don't know where they are. They don't have to tell the +referee every move they make, unless they want a consultation as to +legality. I was just keeping watch on the general picture, to see that +neither of them broke a rule, or took an unfair advantage." + +"You may not know where they are," Lanko admitted, "but you can +certainly contact them." + +Genro Kir smiled tightly. "But I won't." + +"They'll be hunted down, you know. We'll have them eventually. Be a lot +easier for all concerned if you'd cooeperate." + +"Cooeperate with a bunch of half savage natives, against my own friends? +Don't be more stupid than you have to be!" + +"I see." Lanko glanced away. "All very ethical, of course. Well, in that +case, we'll have to go to work." He pulled a fine chain from a case at +his belt, and walked over to his captive, weapon ready. + +"Just hold still," he ordered. He slipped the delicate looking necklace +over the man's head, squeezed the pendant, and jumped back. + +"I don't know whether you're familiar with this device," he said, "so +I'll explain it to you. It's a type ninety-two gravitic manacle, and is +designed to hold any known being. You can move about freely, so long as +you don't make any sudden or violent motion. The device is keyed to my +shield, and you'll suffer temporary paralysis if you get within my near +zone. You're safe enough a couple of meters from me." He walked back to +the control console. + +"Oh, yes," he added, "don't try to take it off. It's designed to prevent +that action by positive means. It won't do you any permanent damage, but +it can make you pretty uncomfortable. And, remember, if it becomes +necessary, I can activate the manacle. It'll put you into full paralysis +and send out a strong homing signal." + +Genro Kir looked at him sourly. "I won't try to escape," he promised. + +"That's immaterial to me." Lanko flicked switches and the ship rose from +the ground, swung, and started westward. "I was merely describing the +capabilities of the manacle." + + * * * * * + +On the way over the sea, Lanko noted the positions of a few of the +trading ships, and approached them closely, examining them. As he +approached a small archipelago, his communicator screen brightened. + +"Resident Guardsman to Sportster. Identity yourself. Over." + +Lanko picked up the microphone. "It's all right, Ban. Got one. Two more +to go." + +"Fair enough. Come on in. I've got a beam on you." + +Lanko checked the approach scope. The small circle was a trifle out of +center. He touched the control bar, and as the circle centered, he +snapped a switch and sat back. + +The sportster dipped over an island, crossed a narrow lagoon, and +settled to the ground beside the guard flier. Lanko started pulling +tools from his kit. Working carefully, he removed the cover from the +control console, examined the terminal blocks, then attached a small +cylinder between two terminals. + +He closed the console again and walked over to the exit port, where he +pressed the emergency release. The port swung wide. For an instant, the +control console was blurred. Lanko waited, then as the panel returned to +focus, he walked back to it. He snapped the drive switch on and pushed +the drive to maximum. Nothing happened. He punched the emergency power +button, and waited an instant. There was no result. He nodded to his +prisoner. + +"Come on, Genro Kir. We may want you to talk to someone." He pointed to +the port. Kir hesitated, then went through. He managed a sneer as he did +so. + +The port of the flier opened, and Banasel looked out. "Need any help?" + +"No. This spaceship won't fly till someone from Sector comes out to pull +the block." Lanko pointed. "This is Genro Kir. He was refereeing a sort +of battle game between a couple of his companions." + +Lanko herded Kir in front of him, and entered his own flier. He placed +the equipment kit on a shelf, and sat down. Banasel perched on his +workbench. + +"What kind of a setup did these jokers have?" + +"Well, you can review the tapes later and get a few of the details, but +here's the general idea: + +"Genro Kir and his two companions made planetfall some years back. They +didn't know it was a discovered planet, and failed to note any evidence +of our presence. Somehow, we missed them, too, for which we should hang +our heads. + +"Anyway, they checked the planet, found it was suitable to their +purpose, and decided that Koree Buron and Sira Nal could use it as a +playing board. Seems they had a bet on, and their last game was +inconclusive. Both of the involved civilizations collapsed. + +"Each of them selected a portion of the habitable part of the eastern +continent as a primary base. Buron took the east, and that left the west +to Nal. It so happens that the central portion of the continent is +difficult to pass, and that fitted in with their plans. You remember the +desert and mountain ranges, of course? Well, so far as I can discover, +there was virtually no contact before the arrival of these three prizes +of ours. And after their arrival, they made sure that there would be no +contact--not until they wanted it. + +"Of course, deserts can be crossed, and mountains can be climbed, but +our three boys fixed it so it would be fatal for any native to try it. +Then, each of the two contestants set to work to build up the war +potential of his part of the continent. + +"In the meantime, Genro was acting as referee. He's been checking the +progress of the two contestants, and making sure that neither of them +sneaks into the territory of the other to upset something, or commits +any other breach of rules." + +Banasel slid off his bench. "Atmosphere of mutual trust, I see." + +"Precisely." + +"Where do the Kondaran priests come in?" + +"Oh, those two aren't going to confine the final stage of their game to +the one continent. That's just the starting point--the home base. And +what they're doing now is just the opening of the game. The end game +will decide control of the entire planet. Sira Nal's just getting off to +an early start, that's all." + +"This is legitimate, according to their rules?" + +"I guess so. According to Kir's tapes, he thinks it's a clever maneuver. +'Sound move' is the way he expressed it." Lanko stood and walked over to +the reproducer set. "That all came from the tapes, of course." + +"How much more has Kir told you?" + +"As little as possible." + + * * * * * + +Banasel looked toward the prisoner. "Why not cooeperate? You're due for +Aldebaran anyway. And a little help now would make it easier for you and +your partners later." + +Genro Kir's lip curled. "As I told your friend, I don't have to lower +myself to work with a bunch of low-grade primitives." + +"See what I mean?" Lanko slanted an eyebrow at Banasel. "But I think our +friend here will help us some, anyway. That 'sound move' he recorded is +almost sure to catch us one of the players." + +"Oh?" + +"Sure. What's the whole foundation of this cult of Kondaro?" + +"Why, they navigate ships. They keep strict security on their methods. +They enforce that security by terrorism. They claim that no one else can +successfully cross the Great Sea, and it seems to be a proven fact that +they're right. So, they collect from seamen, traders, and shipowners." + +"That's right. And they claim that only they can overcome the spells and +actions of the sea demons, which try to destroy any ship that sails the +sea. First, though, they navigate ships. They guarantee to get 'em +across the sea and back. Right?" + +Banasel nodded. + +"Suppose they start losing ships? Suppose that from now on, no ship +returns to port?" Lanko walked over to the control console. + +"Hey, wait a minute. I know these priests are a bunch of pirates--or +some of them are, at any rate. But we can't--" + +"Who said anything about destroying life?" Lanko spread his hands. "We +have here a fairly nice group of islands," he pointed out. "Not too +spacious, of course, and not possessed of any luxurious cities. But +there's water, and fresh fruits are available in plenty. The ships are +provisioned fairly well, but they generally put in here for those very +fruits. So, all we need do is give a little unwanted help." + +"Shipwreck?" + +"Something like that." + +Banasel shook his head doubtfully. "It'll take a long time to undermine +their reputation that way," he objected. "And we'd have a lot of people +on these islands before we were through." + +"I don't think so. Kondaro's a god, remember? And gods are infallible. +Sira Nal can explain a few disappearances by accusations of irreverence, +but he'll know better than to try explaining too many that way. I should +imagine that the normal losses due to unexpected storms just about use +up his allotment along that line." + +[Illustration] + +Lanko shook his head. "No, Sira Nal's going to have to do something to +prevent any rumor to the effect that the sea god is losing his grip." He +paused. "And what ship do you think I spotted standing this way?" + +"Oh, no! That's too much of a coincidence." + +"No, not really. We took considerable time gathering in our boy here." +Lanko inclined his head toward Genro Kir. "And the _Bordeklu's_ home +port is Tanagor, so Musa's old ship wouldn't spend too much of a layover +in Kneuros. They're on schedule all right. You'd like to see your old +friend, Dontor, again, wouldn't you, Musa? Sort of watch him try to save +his ship in a real emergency?" + +Musa grinned wolfishly. "Might be fun, at that," he agreed. + + * * * * * + +Dontor strode firmly toward the ladder leading to the observation deck. +The slaves had rigged the screen, and the priest looked proudly about +this ship of which he was the actual and absolute master. Slowly, in +majestic silence, he mounted the ladder and passed through the opening +in the curtain. + +He went to the middle of the forecastle, and stopped, waiting until the +two junior priests had taken their positions near him and the slaves had +set down the equipment chests. The slaves straightened, and stood, arms +folded, waiting. Dontor inspected the area, then moved his head +imperiously. + +"Very good," he said. "Take your posts." + +As the slaves left, the three priests opened their instrument chests, +removing navigational tools. Alnar went to the folding table, spread the +chart over it, then took his watch out of the chest and stood back, +holding it. + +"Just about time, sir." + +"Very well." Dontor glanced at the juniors, saw that Kuero had his +sextant ready, and raised his own. + +"Now," he instructed, when the readings were complete, "you will each +calculate our position independently. I'll check your work when you have +finished." He replaced his sextant in its case, then headed the small +procession back to the cabins. + +The ship's routine continued its uneventful course. The junior priests +reported to Dontor with their calculations. Their work was examined, +criticized, and finally approved. They were given further instructions. +All was well aboard the _Bordeklu_. + +The chief priest examined the charts and decided on the course for the +next watch. The ship, he thought, would have to put in for water. And +some of the island fruits would go well on the table. He set a course +accordingly, and went topside to give instructions to the pilot. + + * * * * * + +_"Are you going to help them on their way?"_ + +_"It's not necessary, unless they start to by-pass the island. They'll +have plenty to worry about when they try to anchor."_ + + * * * * * + +Ahead of the ship, the sea was calm. No cloud marred the bright blue +overhead. Slowly, a vague shape formed on the horizon, then it grew, to +become a small, wooded island. + +The ship continued on its course, approaching the bit of land, and +neared the breaker line. Orders sounded sharply, and the sails +collapsed, spilling their wind. A crew forward cut the snubbing line, +and the bow anchor splashed into the water. + +The ship continued, and the anchor cable became taut. In defiance of the +helmsman's efforts, the ship continued on a straight course. The bow +line stretched, then loosened a little, as the anchor dragged. Still, +the ship refused to swing. Hurriedly, the crew aft dropped the stern +anchor. But the ship persisted on its course. All hands forward took +shelter as the bow cable snapped and whipped viciously across the deck. +The ship maintained its slow progress. + +Frantically, the crew backed the sails, hoisting them to take all the +wind possible. The helmsman spun the wheel in a final effort to turn the +ship back to sea, then cast a glance astern at the taut cable, and +ducked for shelter. + +Sea anchors were hastily thrown overside, but still the ship approached +the beach. The keel grated on sand, and the ship continued to move +forward, as though, tired of the sea, it had decided to return to the +forest. At last, wedged among the trees, the vessel stopped, far above +the sands of the beach. + +It was obviously there to stay. + +Dontor stood, looking seaward. He shook his head, looked forward, then +down at the ground beneath the ship. This was outside his experience. It +was also outside the teaching so carefully instilled in his mind in the +classrooms back at Tanagor, and later during those long days and nights +when he was a junior priest. He had been taught to speak of sea demons, +and to explain their actions, but he had not been told to believe in +them. + +He wondered if the great Kondaro really existed, and if he did, just +what he might think of Dontor and of the ship he had so recently +controlled. The thought crossed his mind that a real god might be +somewhat critical of the priesthood of the sea. + +"Something," he mused aloud, "will have to be done to prevent loss of +faith." + + * * * * * + +_"Well," remarked Lanko as he snapped the tractor off. "That's the first +handful of sand for the cook pot."_ + + * * * * * + +Sira Nal drummed impatiently on the table before him. + +"I thought you could handle routine operations," he said bitingly. "Now, +you tell me you've been missing ship after ship. What happened to them?" + +The high priest shook his head. "We haven't been able to find out, sir." + +"Do you mean to tell me you haven't anything to report on them?" + +"We have sent out investigating ships, sir." + +"And?" + +"They haven't reported back, sir." + +Sira Nal's checks paled slightly with rage as he stared at his +underling. + +"Miron," he snapped, "I'm not going to tell you exactly what to do, or +how. You're supposed to know how to treat emergencies, not to call me +any time something outside of routine happens. I want a report on those +ships tomorrow morning." He glanced out of the window. "I don't care how +you do it, but find out what happened, and I don't ever want to hear you +admit again that you can't account for any ship I ask about. Is that +clear?" + +Miron nodded unhappily. "Yes, sir." He bowed and backed out of the room. + +He forced himself to suppress his anger as he gently closed the door. +Then, he stood for a moment, fists clenched, as he directed a furious +gaze at the panels. + +"How?" he thought. "How does he expect me to know what's going on at sea +unless ships come in to give me information, or I am able to go out +personally. And how does he expect me to make a personal check in one +night?" + +He started walking along the corridor. "I have no supernatural powers, +and he knows it. He's the prophet. Wish I'd never--" + +He looked at the walls around him, then shook his head. No use thinking +of that. None had ever successfully left the service of Kondaro. He +continued to a stair, mounted it, then climbed ladders, to finally come +out at the observation platform atop the temple. The observer bowed as +his superior entered the little room just below the torch. + +"Have there been any arrivals?" + +"None, sir. I've seen no sails." + +"I am going to send you an acolyte. If you see anything, send him to me +immediately." Miron turned to go back to his quarters. + + * * * * * + +After Miron's departure, Sira Nal sat for a time, still staring at the +closed door. He had caught the wave of frustrated rage, and had almost +responded for a second. But, he was forced to admit, the priest had +justification. He had organized his forces adequately--had been a useful +piece, within his limitations. + +"I wonder," mused Sira Nal, "if Buron's pulling a sneak punch." He +tilted his head. "It would be a little foul, but he might try something +like that." He reviewed the rules they had agreed upon. + +After all, this phase of his operation was outside of the home zone, and +he was actually vulnerable to attack, even this early. He had assumed +that Buron would be too busy developing his own pieces to spend any time +on an offensive move at this stage. Of course, direct intervention was a +little unethical, but Buron might try it. + +He had thought his opponent would be too occupied to notice a move at +this remote part of the board. And he had established this advance base +by direct intervention, too. If Buron had noticed, and if he had checked +Nal's methods, he might have felt justified, and have taken time for a +quick, disruptive move. And Sira Nal was forced to admit that such a +move might be allowed by Kir. It might be even approved, and hailed as a +brilliant counter. + +He rose to his feet, pacing about the room. If this were a move by +Buron, the priesthood would be powerless to counter. It would take +direct action by the player, of course. He grumbled to himself. + +"Can't let this development be wasted. I'd lose too much time. I'll have +to check personally." + +He crossed to the window, opened it, and stepped out on the balcony. + +Outside, the sun glinted on the harbor. A ship was standing out to sea, +sails set to pick up the breeze from the headland. Sira Nal looked over +toward the shipyards. It was a well organized secondary base, and it +would probably develop into a highly valuable position. Somehow, he +doubted that Buron would have been able to do as well, considering the +time factor. He shook his head. This must be retained. + +He threw the robe back, checked his equipment belt, adjusted his body +shield, and stepped off the balcony, activating his levitation +modulator. He swung around the outgoing ship, noting the activity aboard +with approval, then headed seaward, to follow the route he had +prescribed for his navigators. Somewhere out there, he would undoubtedly +find Buron, poised to strike at any ship which bore the red and gold of +Kondaro. + +And when he did find him, he knew, he would have to outline a counter +move which would force immunity to his sea lanes. He considered the +possibilities as he sped over the sea. + + * * * * * + +Musa sat before the detector, idly watching the vague patterns that grew +and collapsed on the viewscreen. The scanner, Lanko had explained, +picked up ghost images from heated air masses, or from clouds, but it +discriminated against them, refusing to form a definite image unless a +material body came within range. Then, it indicated range and azimuth, +checked the body against the predetermined data, and the selective +magnification circuits cut in. + +As Musa watched, a sea bird appeared on the screen, outlined sharply +against the darkness of the sea. The viewscreen tracked it for an +instant, then continued its scan. Another body showed, seeming to come +from under the sea. Musa looked at it curiously, then noticed that the +range marks had tripped on. The screen was holding the object at center. +A slight glow appeared, obscuring visual detail, and more marks showed +in the legend. Musa turned around. + +"Banasel," he called, "what's this?" + +Banasel was engaged in his usual pastime of tinkering with the +equipment. He looked around, then walked quickly over to the screen, to +make adjustments. The object came into sharp focus, revealing itself as +a man in the robes of Kondaro. Range and azimuth lines became clearly +defined, and a graph showed in the legend space. Banasel glanced down at +the dials. + +"Hey, Lanko," he called, "we've got a customer." + +"Where?" Lanko came out of the mess compartment. + +"About seventy-one, true, and coming in fast. Range, about a hundred +K's." Banasel twisted dials, watching the result on the screen. "Looks +as though our friend's coming in for a conference." + +"Screens?" + +"Personal body shield. Probably a Morei twelve. Nothing special." + +Lanko got into the gunner's chair and punched a button. The sight screen +lit, showing the approaching body clearly. He turned a knob, increasing +magnification. + +"All dressed up in his ceremonial robes, too," he laughed. "This kid +could have done well as a clothing designer." + +He adjusted a few knobs, examining a meter. Then, he reached for the +weapon's grip. + +"No point in discussing matters with him now. He can talk after we get +him in, and he's just about in range now." He brought the hair-lines on +the viewscreen to center on the approaching figure, and squeezed the +grip. + + * * * * * + +Sira Nal felt the sudden pressure. Annoyed, he reached to his belt, to +turn his shield to full power. This was highly unethical. Buron should +certainly know better than to resort to personal attack. Such action +could be protested, and Sira Nal could demand concessions. + +He looked ahead, searchingly. The horizon ahead was broken by a faint +cloud, which indicated the islands, but there was no evidence of his +opponent. He shook his head, and started to rise, but his shield was +failing. Suddenly, he became aware of the overheating generator pack. +Something was decidedly wrong. He reached for his own hand weapon, still +searching for his attacker. At last, he noticed a slight shimmer, dead +ahead. He pointed the weapon. + +"Now, now," cautioned a voice, "you could get hurt that way. Close down +your shield and relax. This is a guard flier. You're in arrest tractor." + +Sira Nal recognized that the tractor was pulling him ahead. His +generator pack was heating up dangerously. + +He was being captured! + +Furiously, he thought of the attacks he had made in similar manner, in +this same area. He still could remember the horrified expression on one +shipowner's face just before his ship broke to bits under him. + +They wouldn't get him, though. + +They couldn't. + +He would blast them out of his path. Just as he had blasted the +presumptuous natives who opposed him. + +Thumbing the hand weapon to full blast, he centered it on the faint +shimmer ahead, and squeezed the trigger. + +Let the meddlers look out for themselves. + + * * * * * + +Banasel winced a little as the fireball spread, then rose skyward, to +form a large cloud. + +"You could have relaxed," he protested. "The blast wouldn't have jolted +our screen too much, and you could have gotten him again." + +"I know." Lanko flicked off the gunnery switches and leaned back, +rubbing his head. "There was a possibility, and I fully intended to +relax. But the decision time was short, and frankly, those thoughts of +his overrode me for just too long. That boy was dangerous!" + +He turned to Genro Kir, who was looking with horrified fascination at +the still growing cloud in the screen. + +"It's unfortunate. We'll try to get your other partner alive." + +"You destroyed him!" Kir looked a little sick. + +"No. We didn't destroy him. He should have known better than to fire +into a tractor. I'll have to admit, I did slip a little. I assumed he +was the usual type of drone. I didn't recognize the full extent of his +aberration." + +Lanko got out of his chair, and crossed the room, to confront the +prisoner. + +"Look, Kir. I don't know whether your other partner's like that one or +not. But I think it's about time you helped a little. If you had given +us clues to Sira Nal's personality and probable location, we might have +been able to take precautions. He might be with us now. Or, do you enjoy +seeing your friends turn themselves into flaming clouds of smoke?" + +"You mean I ... I'm responsible ... for that?" + +"Partially. You helped them. You refused any assistance in their +capture. And you knew they were going to be captured, one way or +another." + +Kir directed a horrified look at the screen. + +"What can I do?" + +"Get in contact with Koree Buron. Tell him what happened here. Tell him, +too, that we're looking for him, and that there is a Sector Guardsman +due to join us within a few hours. Explain to him that there will be +direction-finders on him very soon, and that any effort he may make to +use his body shield, his weapons, or even his thought-radiations, will +be noted, and will lead to him. + +"Once you establish contact, we will ride in, if you wish. And we can +assure him that he'll be either hunted down promptly, or he will have to +assume and accept the role of a native--and a very inconspicuous, +uninfluential native, at that. + +"Tell him that he is free to come to us and surrender at any time within +the next twenty hours, planetary. After that, he will be taken by the +most expedient means. After the surrender deadline, you can assure him +that his life will be of less importance to us, and to the Sector +Guardsman, than that of the most humble native. + +"Here's your mental amplifier, if you need it." + +Genro Kir looked at the proffered circlet, then slowly extended a hand. +He took the device, turned it around in his hands for a few moments, +then put it on. + +Suddenly, his face set in decision, and he sat quietly for a while, grim +faced. At last, he looked up. + +"I got him. He argued a little, but he had a poor argument, and he knew +it. He'll be here within an hour, screens down." + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + +This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ April 1955. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright +on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors +have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Players, by Everett B. 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