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+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. Cole
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PLAYERS ***
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