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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24779-h.zip b/24779-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed35e7b --- /dev/null +++ b/24779-h.zip diff --git a/24779-h/24779-h.htm b/24779-h/24779-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9776cca --- /dev/null +++ b/24779-h/24779-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2899 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Millennium, by Everett B. Cole. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + + .tr { text-align:left; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; + background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: solid black 1px;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Millennium, 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: Millennium + +Author: Everett B. Cole + +Release Date: March 8, 2008 [EBook #24779] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MILLENNIUM *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Geetu Melwani and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + +<p class="tr"><b>Transcriber's note.</b> +<br />This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction May 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> + + + +<h1>MILLENNIUM</h1> + +<h3>BY EVERETT B. COLE</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>There are devices a high-level culture could produce that simply +don't belong in the hands of incompetents of lower cultural +evolution. The finest, and most civilized of tools can be made a +menace ...</i></p></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 322px;"> +<img src="images/image1.png" width="322" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h4>Illustrated by Freas</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<p>Liewen Konar smiled wryly as he put a battered object on the bench. +"Well, here's another piece recovered. Not worth much, I'd say, but here +it is."</p> + +<p>Obviously, it had once been a precisely fabricated piece of equipment. +But its identity was almost lost. A hole was torn in the side of the +metal box. Knobs were broken away from their shafts. The engraved +legends were scored and worn to illegibility, and the meter was merely a +black void in the panel. Whatever had been mounted at the top had been +broken away, to leave ragged shards. Inside the gaping hole in the case, +tiny, blackened components hung at odd angles.</p> + +<p>Klion Meinora looked at the wreckage and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I know it's supposed to be what's left of a medium range communicator," +he said, "but I'd never believe it." He poked a finger inside the hole +in the case, pushing a few components aside. Beyond them, a corroded +wheel hung loosely in what had once been precision bearings.</p> + +<p>"Where's the power unit?"</p> + +<p>Konar shook his head. "No trace. Not much left of the viewsphere, +either."</p> + +<p>"Well." Meinora shook his head resignedly. "It's salvage. But we got it +back." He stood back to look at the communicator. "Someone's been +keeping the outside clean, I see."</p> + +<p>Konar nodded. "It was a religious relic," he said. "Found it in an +abbey." He reached into the bag he had placed on the floor.</p> + +<p>"And here's a mental amplifier-communicator, personnel, heavy duty. +Slightly used and somewhat out of adjustment, but complete and +repairable." He withdrew a golden circlet, held it up for a moment, and +carefully laid it on the bench beside the wrecked communicator. Its +metal was dented, but untarnished.</p> + +<p>"Don't want to get rough with it," he explained. "Something might be +loose inside."</p> + +<p>He reached again into the bag. "And a body shield, protector type, model +GS/NO-10C. Again, somewhat used, but repairable. Even has its +nomenclature label."</p> + +<p>"Good enough." Meinora held a hand out and accepted the heavy belt. He +turned it about in his hands, examining the workmanship. Finally, he +looked closely at the long, narrow case mounted on the leather.</p> + +<p>"See they counted this unit fairly well. Must have been using it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. It's operative. The Earl wore it all the time. Guess he kept +up his reputation as a fighter that way. Be pretty hard to nick anyone +with a sword if he had one of these running. And almost any clumsy +leatherhead could slash the other guy up if he didn't have to worry +about self-protection."</p> + +<p>"I know." Meinora nodded quickly. "Seen it done. Anything more turned +up?"</p> + +<p>"One more thing. This hand weapon came from the same abbey I got the +communicator from. I'd say it was pretty hopeless, too." Konar picked a +flame-scarred frame from his bag, then reached in again, to scoop up a +few odd bits of metal.</p> + +<p>"It was in pieces when we picked it up," he explained. "They kept it +clean, but they couldn't get the flame pits out and reassembly was a +little beyond them."</p> + +<p>"Beyond us too, by now." Meinora looked curiously at the object. "Looks +as though a couple of the boys shot it out."</p> + +<p>"Guess they did, sir. Not once, but several times." Konar shrugged. +"Malendes tells me he picked up several like this." He cocked his head +to one side.</p> + +<p>"Say, chief, how many of these things were kicking around on this +unlucky planet?"</p> + +<p>Meinora grimaced. "As far as we can determine, there were ninety-two +operative sets originally issued. Each of the original native operatives +was equipped with a mentacom and a body shield. Each of the eight +operating teams had a communicator and three hand weapons, and the +headquarters group had a flier, three communicators, a field detector +set, and six hand weapons. Makes quite an equipment list."</p> + +<p>"Any tools or maintenance equipment?"</p> + +<p>Meinora shook his head. "Just operator manuals. And those will have +deteriorated long ago. An inspection team was supposed to visit once a +cycle for about fifty cycles, then once each five cycles after that. +They would have taken care of maintenance. This operation was set up +quite a while ago, you know. Operatives get a lot more training now—and +we don't use so many of them."</p> + +<p>"So, something went wrong." Konar looked at the equipment on the bench. +"How?" he asked. "How could it have happened?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we've got the sequence of events pretty well figured out by now." +Meinora got to his feet. "Of course, it's a virtually impossible +situation—something no one would believe could happen. But it did." He +looked thoughtfully at the ruined communicator.</p> + +<p>"You know the history of the original operation on this planet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I looked it over. Planet was checked out by Exploration. They +found a couple of civilizations in stasis and another that was about to +go that way. Left alone, the natives'd have reverted to a primitive +hunter stage—if they didn't go clear back to the caves. And when they +did come up again, they'd have been savage terrors."</p> + +<p>"Right. So a corps of native operatives was set up by Philosophical, to +upset the stasis and hold a core of knowledge till the barbaric period +following the collapse of one of the old empires was over. One +civilization on one continent was chosen, because it was felt that its +impact on the rest of the planet would be adequate to insure progress, +and that any more extensive operation would tend to mold the planetary +culture."</p> + +<p>Konar nodded. "The old, standard procedure. It usually worked better +than this, though. What happened this time?"</p> + +<p>"The Merokian Confederation happened."</p> + +<p>"But their penetration was nowhere near here."</p> + +<p>"No, it wasn't. But they did attack Sector Nine. And they did destroy +the headquarters. You remember that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I read about it in school. We lost a lot of people on that +one." Konar frowned. "Long before my time in the Corps, of course, but I +studied up on it. They used some sort of screen that scrambled the +detectors, didn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Something like that. Might have been coupled with someone's +inattention, too. But that's unimportant now. The important thing is +that the sector records were destroyed during the attack."</p> + +<p>"Sure. But how about the permanent files that were forwarded to +Aldebaran depository?"</p> + +<p>Meinora smiled grimly. "Something else that couldn't happen. We're still +looking for traces of that courier ship. I suppose they ran afoul of a +Merokian task force, but there's nothing to go on. They just +disappeared." He picked up the mental communicator, examining the signs +of aging.</p> + +<p>"One by one," he continued, "the case files and property records of +Sector Nine are being reconstructed. Every guardsman even remotely +associated with the Sector before the attack is being interviewed, and a +lot of them are working on the reconstruction. It's been a long job, but +we're nearly done now. This is one of the last planets to be located and +rechecked, and it's been over a period since the last visit they've had +from any of our teams. On this planet, that's some fifty-odd +generations. Evidently the original operatives didn't demolish their +equipment, and fifty some generations of descendants have messed things +up pretty thoroughly."</p> + +<p>Konar looked at the bench. Besides the equipment he had just brought in, +there were other items, all in varying stages of disrepair and ruin.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," he agreed. "If this is a sample, and if the social +conditions I've seen since I joined the team are typical, they have. Now +what?"</p> + +<p>"We've been picking up equipment. Piece by piece, we've been accounting +for every one of those items issued. Some of 'em were lost. Some of 'em +probably wore out and were discarded, or were burned—like this, only +more so." Meinora pointed at the wrecked communicator.</p> + +<p>"Local legends tell us about violent explosions, so we know a few +actually discharged. And we've tracked down the place where the flier +cracked up and bit out a hole the size of a barony. Those items are gone +without trace." He sighed.</p> + +<p>"That introduces an uncertainty factor, of course, but the equipment in +the hands of natives, and the stuff just lying around in deserted areas +has to be tracked down. This planet will develop a technology some day, +and we don't want anything about to raise questions and doubts when it +does. The folklore running around now is bad enough. When we get the +equipment back, we've got to clean up the social mess left by the +descendants of those original operatives."</p> + +<p>"Nice job."</p> + +<p>"Very nice. We'll be busy for a long time." Meinora picked up a small +tape reel. "Just got this," he explained. "That's why I was waiting for +you here. It's an account of a mentacom and shield that got away. +Probably stolen about twenty years ago, planetary. We're assigned to +track it down and pick it up."</p> + +<p>He turned to speak to a technician, who was working at another bench.</p> + +<p>"You can have this stuff now. Bring in some more pretty soon."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Flor, the beater, was bone weary. The shadows were lengthening, hiding +the details in the thickets, and all the hot day, he had been thrusting +his way through thicket after thicket, in obedience to the instructions +of the foresters. He had struck trees with his short club and had +grunted and squealed, to startle the <i>khada</i> into flight. A few of the +ugly beasts had come out, charging into the open, to be run down and +speared by the nobles.</p> + +<p>And Flor had tired of this hunt, as he had tired of many other hunts in +the past. Hunting the savage <i>khada</i>, he thought resentfully, might be +an amusing sport for the nobles. But to a serf, it was hard, +lung-bursting work at best. At worst, it meant agonizing death beneath +trampling hoofs and rending teeth.</p> + +<p>To be sure, there would be meat at the hunting lodge tonight, in plenty, +and after the hunt dinner, he and the other serfs might take bits of the +flesh home to their families. But that would be after the chores in the +scullery were over. It would be many hours before Flor would be able to +stumble homeward.</p> + +<p>He relaxed, to enjoy the short respite he had gained by evading the +forester. Sitting with his back to a small tree, he closed his eyes and +folded his thick arms over his head. Of course, he would soon be found, +and he would have to go back to the hunt. But this forester was a dull, +soft fellow. He could be made to believe Flor's excuse that he had +become lost for a time, and had been searching the woods for the other +beaters.</p> + +<p>The underbrush rustled and Flor heard the sound of disturbed leaves and +heavy footfalls. A hunting charger was approaching, bearing one of the +hunters. Quickly, Flor rose to his feet, sidling farther back into the +thicket. Possibly, he might remain unseen. He peered out through the +leaves.</p> + +<p>The mounted man was old and evidently tired from the long day's hunt. He +swayed a little in his saddle, then recovered and looked about him, +fumbling at his side for his horn. His mount raised its head and beat a +forefoot against the ground. The heavy foot made a deep, thumping noise +and leaves rustled and rose in a small cloud.</p> + +<p>Flor sighed and started forward reluctantly. It was the Earl, himself. +It might be possible to hide from another, but Flor knew better than to +try to conceal his presence from the old nobleman. The Earl could detect +any person in his vicinity, merely by their thoughts, as Flor well knew +from past experience. He also knew how severe the punishment would be if +he failed to present himself immediately. He pushed a branch aside with +a loud rustle.</p> + +<p>Startled by the noise, a <i>husa</i>, which had been hiding beneath a nearby +bush, raced into the open. The small animal dashed madly toward the +Earl, slid wildly almost under the charger's feet, and put on a fresh +burst of speed, to disappear into the underbrush. The huge beast +flinched away, then reared wildly, dashing his rider's head against a +tree limb.</p> + +<p>The elderly man slipped in his saddle, reached shakily for his belt, +missed, and lost his seat, to crash heavily to the ground.</p> + +<p>Flor rushed from his thicket. With the shock of the fall, the Earl's +coronet had become dislodged from his head and lay a short distance from +the inert form. Flor picked it up, turning it in his hands and looking +at it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Curiously, he examined the golden circlet, noting the tiny bosses inset +in the band. Many times, he had watched from a dark corner at the +hunting lodge, neglecting his scullery duties, while the Earl showed the +powers of this coronet to his elder son. Sometimes, he had been caught +by the very powers the circlet gave to the old nobleman, and he winced +as he remembered the strong arm of the kitchen master, and the skill +with which he wielded a strap. But on other occasions, the Earl had been +so engrossed in explaining the device as to neglect the presence of the +eavesdropper.</p> + +<p>He had told of the ability given him to read the thoughts of others, and +even to strongly influence their actions. And Flor had gone back to his +labors, to dream of what he would do if he, rather than the Earl, were +the possessor of the powerful talisman.</p> + +<p>And now, he had it in his hands.</p> + +<p>A daring idea occurred to him, and he looked around furtively. He was +alone with the Earl. The old man was breathing stertorously, his mouth +wide open. His face was darkening, and the heavy jowls were becoming +purple. Obviously, he was capable of little violence.</p> + +<p>In sudden decision, Flor knelt beside the body. His hand, holding the +short club above the Earl's throat, trembled uncontrollably. He wanted +to act—had to act now—but his fear made him nauseated and weak. For a +moment, his head seemed to expand and to lighten as he realized the +enormity of his intent. This was one of the great nobles of the land, +not some mere animal.</p> + +<p>The heavily lidded eyes beneath him fluttered, started to open.</p> + +<p>With a sob of effort, Flor dashed his club downward, as though striking +a <i>husa</i>. The Earl shivered convulsively, choked raspingly, and was +suddenly limp and still. The labored breathing stopped and his eyes +opened reluctantly, to fix Flor with a blank stare.</p> + +<p>The serf leaped back, then hovered over the body, club poised to strike +again. But the old man was really dead. Flor shook his head. Men, he +thought in sudden contempt, died easily. It was not so with the <i>husa</i>, +or the <i>khada</i>, who struggled madly for life, often attacking their +killer and wounding him during their last efforts.</p> + +<p>Flor consigned this bit of philosophy to his memory for future use and +set to work removing the heavy belt worn by the Earl. This, he knew, was +another potent talisman, which could guard its wearer from physical harm +when its bosses were pushed.</p> + +<p>The murderer smiled sardonically. It was well for him that the old +nobleman had failed to press those bosses, otherwise this opportunity +probably would never have been presented. He stood up, holding the belt +in his hand. Such a thing as this, he told himself, could make him a +great man.</p> + +<p>He examined the belt, noting the long metal case, with its engraving and +its bosses. At last, he grunted and fastened it about his own waist. He +pressed the bosses, then threw himself against a tree.</p> + +<p>Something slowed his fall, and he seemed to be falling on a soft mat. He +caught his balance and rested against the tree, nodding in satisfaction. +Later, he could experiment further, but now he had other things to do.</p> + +<p>He examined the coronet again, remembering that there was something +about its bosses, too. He looked closely at them, then pressed. One boss +slid a little under his finger and he felt a faint, unfamiliar sense of +awareness.</p> + +<p>He put the coronet on his head and shuddered a little as the awareness +increased to an almost painful intensity. The forest was somehow more +clear to him than it had ever been. He seemed to understand many things +which he had heard or experienced, but which had been vague before. And +memory crowded upon him. He stood still, looking around.</p> + +<p>At the edge of his mind was vague, uneasy wonder, obviously not his own +thought. There was a dim caricature of himself standing over the body of +the Earl. And there was a feeling of the need to do something without +understanding of what was to be done, or why.</p> + +<p>He could remember clearly now, the Earl's explanations of the action of +the coronet. One incident stood out—a time when the old man, having +overindulged in the local wine, had demonstrated his ability to divine +the thoughts of others. Flor twitched a little in painful recollection. +The kitchen master had been especially enthusiastic in his use of the +strap that night.</p> + +<p>The Earl's mount was eying Flor, who realized without knowing just how, +that the vague images and rudimentary thoughts were a reflection of the +beast's mind. He looked over at the thicket into which the little +animal which had started the charger, was hiding. It was still there, +and he could feel a sense of fearful wonder, a desire to be gone, +coupled with a fear of being discovered.</p> + +<p>Again, he looked about the woods. In a way, the <i>husa</i> and he were akin. +It would be bad if he were caught here, too. To be sure, he would be +hard to capture, with his new protection, but many men would hunt him. +And some of them would be other Earls, or possibly some of the great +abbots, who had their own coronets and belts, and possibly other things +of great power. These, he knew, might be too much for him. He slunk into +the thicket, looked down the hill, and decided on a course which would +avoid the paths of the foresters.</p> + +<p>As he walked, he plotted methods of using his new-found powers. He +considered idea after idea—then discarded them and sought further. With +his new awareness, he could see flaws in plans which would have seemed +perfect to him only a few short hours before.</p> + +<p>First, he realized he would have to learn to control his new powers. He +would have to learn the ways of the nobility, their manners and their +customs. And he would have to find a disguise which would allow him to +move about the land. Serfs were too likely to be questioned by the first +passer-by who noticed them. Serfs belonged on the land—part of it!</p> + +<p>He hid in the bushes at the side of a path as a group of free swordsmen +went by. As he watched them, a plan came to him. He examined it +carefully, finally deciding it would do.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The man-at-arms sauntered through the forest, swaying a little as he +walked. He sang in a gravelly voice, pausing now and then to remember a +new verse.</p> + +<p>Flor watched him as he approached, allowing the man's thoughts to enter +his own consciousness. They were none too complicated. The man was a +free swordsman, his sword unemployed at the moment. He still had +sufficient money to enjoy the forest houses for a time, then he would +seek service with the Earl of Konewar, who was rumored to be planning a +campaign.</p> + +<p>The man swayed closer, finally noticing Flor. He paused in mid stride, +eying the escaped serf up and down.</p> + +<p>"Now, here's something strange indeed," he mused. He looked closely at +Flor's face.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, my fellow, tell me this: How is it you wear the belt and +coronet of a great noble, and yet have no other garment than the shift +of a serf?"</p> + +<p>As Flor looked at him insolently, he drew his sword.</p> + +<p>"Come," he demanded impatiently, "I must have answer, else I take you to +a provost. Possibly his way of finding your secret would be to your +liking, eh?"</p> + +<p>Flor drew a deep breath and waited. Here was the final test of his new +device. He had experimented, finding that even the charge of a <i>khada</i> +was harmless to him. Now, he would find if a sword could be rendered +harmless. At the approach of the man, he had pressed the boss on his +belt. The man seemed suddenly a little uncertain, so Flor spoke.</p> + +<p>"Why, who are you," he demanded haughtily, "to question the doings of +your betters? Away with you, before I spit you with your own sword."</p> + +<p>The man shook his head, smiling sarcastically. "Hah!" he said, +approaching Flor. "I know that accent. It stinks of the scullery. Tell +me, Serf, where did you steal that——"</p> + +<p>He broke off, climaxing his question with an abrupt swing of the sword. +Then, he fell back in surprise. Flor had thrust a hand out to ward off +the blow, and the sword had been thrown back violently. The rebound tore +it from its amazed owner's hand, and it thudded to the ground. The +man-at-arms looked at it stupidly.</p> + +<p>Flor sprang aside, scooping up the weapon before the man could recover.</p> + +<p>"Now," he cried, "stand quite still. I shall have business with you."</p> + +<p>The expression on the man's face told of something more than mere +surprise which held him quiet. Here was proof of the powers of the +coronet. Flor looked savagely at his captive.</p> + +<p>"Take off your cap."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, the man's hand came up. He removed his steel cap, holding +it in his hand as he faced his captor.</p> + +<p>"That is fine." Flor pressed his advantage. "Now, your garments. Off +with them!"</p> + +<p>The swordsman was nearly his size. Both of them had the heavy build of +their mountain stock, and the garments of the free swordsman would do +for Flor's purpose, even though they might not fit him perfectly. Who +expected one of these roving soldiers of fortune to be dressed in the +height of style? They were fighters, not models to show off the tailor's +art.</p> + +<p>Flor watched as his prisoner started to disrobe, then pulled off his own +single garment, carefully guiding it through the belt at his waist, so +as not to disturb the talisman's powers.</p> + +<p>He threw the long shirt at the man before him.</p> + +<p>"Here," he ordered. "Put this on."</p> + +<p>He sensed a feeling of deep resentment—of hopeless rebellion. He +repeated his demand, more emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Put it on, I say!"</p> + +<p>As the man stood before him, dressed in the rough shift of a serf, Flor +smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"And now," he said, "none will worry too much about a mere serf, or look +too closely into his fate. Here."</p> + +<p>He slashed out with the sword, awkwardly, but effectively.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to find a new name," he told himself as he dressed in the +garments of his victim. "No free swordsman would have a name like Flor. +They all have two names."</p> + +<p>He thought of the names he had heard used by the guards of the Earl. +Flor, he thought, could be part of a name. But one of the swordsmen +would make it Floran, or possibly Florel. They would be hunters, or +slayers of elk—not simply elk. He looked at the steel cap in his hands. +An iron hat—<i>deri kuna</i>.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 342px;"> +<img src="images/image2.png" width="342" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"So," he told himself, "I shall be Florel Derikuna."</p> + +<p>He inspected his new garments, being sure they hid the belt, and yet +left the bosses available to easy reach. At last, he put on the iron +cap. It covered the coronet, effectively hiding it.</p> + +<p>Taking up the sword, he replaced it in its scabbard and swaggered +through the forest, imitating the man-at-arms' song.</p> + +<p>At one stroke, he had improved his status infinitely. Now, he could roam +the land unquestioned, so long as he had money. He smiled to himself. +There was money in his scrip, and there would be but slight problems +involved in getting more. Tonight, he would sleep in a forest house, +instead of huddling in a thicket.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As the days passed, to grow into weeks and then, months, Florel wandered +over the land. Sometimes, he took service with a captain, who would +engage in a campaign. Sometimes, he took service with one of the lesser +nobility. A few times, he ran with the bands of the forest and road, to +rob travelers. But he was cautious to avoid the great Earls, realizing +the danger of detection.</p> + +<p>Always, he kept his direction to the east, knowing that he would have to +reach the sea and cross to the eastern land before he could feel +completely safe. His store of money and of goods grew, and he hoarded it +against the time when he would use it.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, he posed as a merchant, traveling the land with the caravans. +But always, he followed his path eastward.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Florel Derikuna looked back at the line of pack animals. It had been a +long trip, and a hard one. He smiled grimly to himself as he remembered +the last robber attack. For a time, he had thought the caravan guard was +going to be overwhelmed. He might have had to join with the robbers, as +he had done before. And that would have delayed his plans. He looked +ahead again, toward the hill, crowned with its great, stone castle.</p> + +<p>This, then, was the land of the east—the farthest march of the land of +the east. It had taken him a long, cautious time to get here. And he had +spent his days in fear of a searching party from Budorn, even when he +had reached the seacoast itself. But here, he would be safe. None from +this land had ever been even to the mountainous backbone of his own +land, he was sure. And certainly, there would be no travelers who had +guided their steps from here to faraway Budorn and back.</p> + +<p>None here knew Budorn, excepting him. Flor, the serf—now Florel +Derikuna, swordsman at large—was in a new land. And he would take a +new, more useful identity. He looked at the stone buildings of the town +and its castle.</p> + +<p>They were not unlike the castles and towns of his native land, he +thought. There were differences, of course, but only in the small +things. And he had gotten used to those by now. He had even managed to +learn the peculiar language of the country. He smiled again. That +coronet he always wore beneath his steel cap had served him well. It had +more powers than he had dreamed of when he had first held it in his +hands in those distant woods.</p> + +<p>Here in Dweros, he thought, he could complete his change. Here, he could +take service with the Duke as a young man of noble blood, once afflicted +with a restless urge for travel, but now ready to establish himself. By +now, he had learned to act. It had not been for nothing that he had +carefully studied the ways of the nobility.</p> + +<p>The caravan clattered through the gate beneath the castle, twisted +through the streets just beyond the wall, and stopped in the market +place. Derikuna urged his mount ahead and confronted the merchant.</p> + +<p>"Here is my destination," he said. "So, we'll settle up, and I'll be on +my way."</p> + +<p>The merchant looked at him with a certain amount of relief. The man, he +knew, was a tough fighter. His efforts had been largely the cause of the +failure of bandits to capture the caravan only a few days before. But +there was something about him that repelled. He was a man to be feared, +not liked. Somehow, the merchant felt he was well rid of this guard, +despite his demonstrated ability. He reached into his clothing and +produced two bags.</p> + +<p>"We hate to lose you, Derikuna," he dissembled. "Here is your normal +wage." He held out one bag. "And this second purse is a present, in +memory of your gallant defense of the caravan."</p> + +<p>Derikuna smiled sardonically. "Thank you," he said, "and good trading." +He reined away.</p> + +<p>He had caught the semi-fearful thoughts. Well, that was nothing unusual. +Everybody became fearful of the iron hat sooner or later. Here, they +would learn to respect him, too. Though their respect would be for a +different name. Nor would they be able to deny him aught. They might not +like him. That, he had no interest in. They'd do his will. And they'd +never forget him.</p> + +<p>He rode to an inn, where he ordered food and lodging. His meal over, he +saw to his beasts, then had a servant take his baggage to his room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Shortly after daybreak, he awoke. He blinked at the light, stirred +restlessly, and got out of bed. Rubbing his eyes, he walked to the other +side of the room.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes, he looked at the trough in the floor and the water +bucket standing near it. At last, he shrugged and started splashing +water over himself. This morning, he spent more time than usual, being +sure that no vestige of beard was left on his face, and that he was +perfectly clean. He completed his bath by dashing perfumed water over +his entire body.</p> + +<p>He opened his traveling chest, picking out clothing he had worn but few +times, and those in private. At last, he examined his reflection in a +mirror, and nodded in satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Truly," he told himself, "a fine example of western nobility."</p> + +<p>He picked out a few expensive ornaments from his chest, then locked it +again and left the inn.</p> + +<p>He guided his mount through the narrow streets to the castle gate, where +he confronted a sleepy, heavily-armed sentry.</p> + +<p>"Send word to the castle steward," he ordered, throwing his riding cloak +back, "that Florel, younger son of the Earl of Konewar, would pay his +respects to your master, the Duke of Dwerostel."</p> + +<p>The man eyed him for a moment, then straightened and grounded his pike +with a crash.</p> + +<p>"It shall be done, sir." He turned and struck a gong.</p> + +<p>A guard officer came through the tunnel under the wall. For a moment, he +looked doubtful, then he spoke respectfully and ushered Derikuna through +the inner court to a small apartment, where he turned him over to a +steward.</p> + +<p>"You wish audience with His Excellency?"</p> + +<p>"I do, My Man. I wish to pay him my respects, and those of my father, +the Earl of Konewar." Derikuna looked haughtily at the man.</p> + +<p>Like the guard officer, the steward seemed doubtful. For a few seconds, +he seemed about to demur. Then, he bowed respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir." With a final, curious glance at the coronet which +shone in Florel's hair, the steward clapped his hands. A page hurried +into the room and bowed.</p> + +<p>"Your orders, sir?"</p> + +<p>"We have a noble guest. Bring refreshment, at once." The steward waved +to a table. "If Your Honor will wait here?"</p> + +<p>Florel inclined his head, strode to a chair, and sat down. He looked +amusedly after the disappearing steward. The coronet of the old Earl, he +thought, was a truly potent talisman. Even the disdainful stewards of +castles bowed to its force. And, thought the impostor, so would his +master—when the time came.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The page reappeared with a flagon of wine and some cakes. Florel was +sampling them when the steward returned. The man bowed respectfully, +waited for Florel to finish his wine, and led the way through a corridor +to a heavy pair of doors, which he swung open.</p> + +<p>"Florel, Son of Konewar," he announced ceremoniously.</p> + +<p>The Duke flipped a bone to one of his dogs, shoved his plate aside, and +looked up. Florel walked forward a few paces, stopped, and bowed low.</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency."</p> + +<p>As he straightened, he realized that he was the object of an intense +scrutiny. At last, the Duke nodded.</p> + +<p>"We had no notice of your coming."</p> + +<p>Florel smiled. "I have been traveling alone, Excellency, and incognito. +For some years, I have been wandering, to satisfy my desire to see the +world." He glanced down at his clothing.</p> + +<p>"I arrived in your town last evening, and delayed only to make myself +presentable before appearing to pay my respects."</p> + +<p>"Very good. Punctuality in meeting social obligations is a mark of good +breeding." The Duke eyed Florel's costume.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, young man, do all your nobility affect the insignia you wear?"</p> + +<p>Florel's hand rose to his coronet. "Only members of the older families, +Excellency."</p> + +<p>"I see." The nobleman nodded thoughtfully. "We have heard rumors of your +fashions in dress, though no member of any of the great families of +your realm has ever come so far before. We are somewhat isolated here." +He looked sharply at the younger man.</p> + +<p>"Rumor also has it that this is more than mere insignia you wear. I have +heard it said that your ornaments give more than mortal powers to their +wearer. Is this true?"</p> + +<p>Florel hesitated for an instant, then recognized the desired response. +Of course this eastern noble would not welcome the thought that there +were others who had greater powers than he. And he would certainly +resent any suggestions that a young visitor to his court had such +powers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that," he said easily. "Legends, really. The truth is that the +wearing of the coronet and belt is restricted to members of the older, +more honorable families. And even these must prove their ability at arms +and statecraft before being invested with the insignia. Too, knowledge +of long lineage and gentle birth makes a man more bold—possibly even +more skillful than the average." He smiled ingratiatingly.</p> + +<p>"You, yourself, recognize your own superiority in all ways over your +retainers, your vassals, and your townspeople. And so are we above the +common man. This insignia is but the outward symbol of that +superiority."</p> + +<p>The Duke nodded, satisfied. He waved a hand.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, young man. You must remain at our court for a time. We are +hungry for news of the distant lands."</p> + +<p>Florel congratulated himself. Well embellished gossip, he had found, was +a popular form of entertainment in camp and court alike, and his store +of gossip was large and carefully gathered. Here at Dweros, far from the +center of the kingdom, his store of tales would last for a long +time—probably as long as he needed.</p> + +<p>During the days and nights that followed, he exerted himself to gain the +favor of the Duke and his household. Much of his time, he spent +entertaining others with his tales. But he kept his own ears and eyes +open. He became a constant visitor at the castle, finally being offered +the use of one of the small apartments, which he graciously accepted. +And, of course, he was invited to join the hunts.</p> + +<p>Hunting, he discovered, could be a pleasant pastime—so long as it was +another who was doing the hard work of beating. And his own experience +as a beater proved valuable. He was familiar with the ways and the +haunts of animals. What had once been a matter of survival became a road +to acclaim. He was known before long as a skillful, daring hunter.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At length, he decided the time was right to talk to the Duke of more +serious things. The duchy was at the very border of the kingdom. To the +north lay territory occupied only by barbaric tribes, who frequently +descended on the northern baronies, to rob travelers of their goods, or +to loot villages. Having secured their loot, the tribesmen retreated to +their mountains before a fighting force could come up with them.</p> + +<p>Florel came upon the Duke while he was considering the news of one of +these raids.</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency, these border raids could be halted. A strong hand is +all that is needed, at the right place. A determined knight, established +on the Menstal, could command the river crossing and the pass, thus +preventing either entry or exit."</p> + +<p>"To be sure." The Duke sighed wearily. "But the mountains of Menstal are +inhospitable. Knights have occupied the heights, protecting the border +for a time, to be sure, but the land has always escheated to the duchy. +A small watchtower is kept manned even now, but it's a hungry land, and +one which would drain even a baron's funds. I have no knight who wants +it."</p> + +<p>Florel smiled. He had plans concerning the Menstal, and the great river, +the Nalen, which raced between high cliffs.</p> + +<p>"The merchants, who use the Nalen for their shipments, would welcome +protection from the robber bands, I think, as would the travelers of the +roads."</p> + +<p>"And?" The Duke looked at him thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Possibly a small tax?" Florel smiled deprecatingly. "Sufficient to +maintain a garrison?"</p> + +<p>"And who would collect the tax?"</p> + +<p>"That, Excellency, I could arrange. I have funds, adequate to garrison +the tower of the Menstal, and even to make it livable for a considerable +force of men. And I believe I could maintain and increase a garrison +there that would serve to hold the barbarians at bay."</p> + +<p>"Let me think this over." The Duke sat back, toying with his cup. "It is +true," he mused, "that Menstal is the key to the border. And the small +garrison there has proved expensive and ineffective." He tapped the cup +on the table, then set it down and looked about the apartment. Finally, +he looked up at Florel.</p> + +<p>"You have our permission to try your scheme," he decided. "We will +invest you with the barony of Menstal."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Konar paused at the castle gate. It had been pure chance, he knew, that +they had noticed this bit of equipment. The east coast earldom was +known, of course, but somehow, searchers had failed to discover that the +Earl held any equipment. Konar shrugged. He probably hadn't inherited +it, but had gotten it by chance, and his possession of the mentacom and +shield weren't commonly known.</p> + +<p>"Well," he told himself, "we know about it now. I'll make a routine +pickup, and he won't have it any more."</p> + +<p>A pair of weary sentries stood just inside the heavy doors. One shifted +his weight, to lean partially on his pike, partially against the +stonework. Idly, he looked out at the road which led through the +village, staring directly through the place where Konar stood.</p> + +<p>Konar smiled to himself. "Good thing I've got my body shield modulated +for full refraction," he told himself. "He'd be a little startled if he +should see me."</p> + +<p>The sentry yawned and relaxed still more, sliding down a little, till he +sat on a slightly protruding stone. His companion looked over at him.</p> + +<p>"Old Marnio sees you like that," he muttered warningly, "makes lashes."</p> + +<p>The other yawned again. "No matter. He'll be drowsing inside, where it's +warm. Be a long time before he comes out to relieve."</p> + +<p>Konar nodded amusedly. The castle guard, he gathered, was a little less +than perfectly alert. This would be simple. He touched the controls of +his body shield to raise himself a few inches above the cobblestones, +and floated between the two sentries, going slowly to avoid making a +breeze.</p> + +<p>Once inside, he decided to waste no more time. Of course, he would have +to wait inside the Earl's sleeping room till the man slept, but there +was no point in waiting out here. He passed rapidly through the outer +ward, ignoring the serfs and retainers who walked between the dwellings +nestled against the wall.</p> + +<p>The inner gate had been closed for the night, so he lifted and went over +the wall.</p> + +<p>He looked around, deciding that the Earl's living quarters would be in +the wooden building at the head of the inner courtyard. As he +approached, he frowned. The windows were tightly closed against the +night air. He would have to enter through the doors, and a young squire +blocked that way. The lad was talking to a girl.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to do but wait, so Konar poised himself a few feet +from them. They'd go inside eventually, and he would float in after +them. Then, he could wait until the Earl was asleep.</p> + +<p>After that, it would be a simple, practiced routine. The small hand +weapon he carried would render the obsolete body shield ineffective, if +necessary, and a light charge would assure that the man wouldn't awaken. +It would be the work of a few minutes to remove the equipment the man +had, to substitute the purely ornamental insignia, and to sweep out of +the room, closing the window after him. Konar hoped it would stay +closed. The Earl might be annoyed if it flew open, to expose him to the +dreaded night air.</p> + +<p>In the morning, the Earl would waken, innocent of any knowledge of his +visitor. He would assume his talismans had simply lost their powers due +to some occult reason, as many others had during recent times.</p> + +<p>Idly, Konar listened to the conversation of the two before him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The squire was telling the girl of his prowess in the hunt. Tomorrow, he +announced, he would accompany the Earl's honored guest from the eastern +land.</p> + +<p>"And I'm the one that can show him the best coverts," he boasted. "His +Grace did well to assign me to the Duke."</p> + +<p>The girl lifted her chin disdainfully. "Since you're such a great +hunter," she told him, "perchance you could find my brooch, which I lost +in yonder garden." She turned to point at the flower-bordered patch of +berry bushes at the other end of the court. In so doing, she faced +directly toward Konar.</p> + +<p>She was a pretty girl, he thought. His respect for the young squire's +judgment grew. Any man would admire the slender, well featured face +which was framed within a soft cloud of dark, well combed hair. She +looked quite different from the usual girls one saw in this country. +Possibly, she was of eastern descent, Konar thought.</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes widened and her mouth flew open, making her face +grotesquely gaunt. Abruptly, she was most unpretty. For a few +heartbeats, she stood rigidly, staring at Konar. Then she put her hands +to her face, her fingers making a rumpled mess of her hair. Her eyes, +fixed and with staring pupils, peered between her fingers. And she +screamed.</p> + +<p>Konar felt suddenly faint, as though the girl's horror was somehow +communicated to him. The scream reverberated through his brain, rising +in an intolerable crescendo, blotting out other sensory perception. He +fought to regain control of his fading senses, but the castle court +blurred and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. He started +sliding down an endless, dark chute, ending in impenetrable blackness.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Suddenly, the black dissolved into a flash of unbearably brilliant +light, and Konar's eyes closed tightly.</p> + +<p>He was alertly conscious again, but his head ached, and he felt +reluctant, even unable, to open his eyes. Even closed, they ached from +the brilliant spots which snapped into being before them. He shuddered, +bringing his head down to his breast, gripping it with shaking hands, +and breathing with uneven effort.</p> + +<p>This was like nothing he had ever met before. He would have to get back +to the others—find out what had happened to him—get help.</p> + +<p>He concentrated on his eyelids, forcing them open. A crowd was +gathering, to look accusingly at the squire, who supported the fainting +girl in his arms. Her eyes fluttered weakly, and she struggled to regain +her feet.</p> + +<p>"That awful thing! It's right over there!" She pointed at Konar.</p> + +<p>Again, the unbearable ululation swept through his mind. Convulsively, he +swept his hand to his shield controls, fighting to remain conscious just +long enough to set his course up and away.</p> + +<p>Before he was able to move and think with anything approaching +normality, he was far above the earth. He looked at the tiny castle far +below, noticing that from his altitude, it looked like some child's toy, +set on a sand hill, with bits of moss strewed about to make a realistic +picture. He shivered. His head still ached dully, and he could still +hear echoes of the horrified screaming.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what it was," he told himself, "but I hope I never run +into anything like that again."</p> + +<p>He located the hill which concealed the flier, and dropped rapidly +toward it.</p> + +<p>As he entered, the pilot noticed him.</p> + +<p>"Well, that was a quick mission," he commented. "How'd you——" He +looked at Konar's pain-lined face. "Hey, what's the matter, youngster? +You look like the last end of a bad week."</p> + +<p>Konar tried to smile, but it didn't work very well.</p> + +<p>"I ran into something, Barskor," he said. "Didn't complete my mission. I +don't know what happened, but I hope it never happens again."</p> + +<p>Barskor looked at him curiously, then turned. "Chief," he called, +"something's gone wrong. Konar's been hurt."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Meinora listened to Konar's story, then shook his head unhappily.</p> + +<p>"You ran into a transvisor, I'm afraid. We didn't think there were any +on this planet." He paused. "There were definitely none discovered to +the west, and we looked for them. But now, we're close to the east +coast, and you said that girl looked eastern. The eastern continent may +be loaded with 'em."</p> + +<p>Konar looked curious. "A transvisor? I never heard of them."</p> + +<p>"They're rather rare. You only find them under special conditions, and +those conditions, we thought, are absent here. But when you find one, +you can be sure there are more. It runs in families. You see, they're +beings with a completely wild talent. They can be any age, any species, +or of any intelligence, but they're nearly always female. Visibility +refraction just doesn't work right for their senses, and they can cause +trouble." He looked closely at Konar.</p> + +<p>"You were lucky to get away. A really terrified transvisor could kill +you, just as surely as a heavy caliber blaster."</p> + +<p>Konar shivered. "I believe it. But why are they called 'transvisors'?"</p> + +<p>"The name's somewhat descriptive, even if it is incomplete. As I said, +visibility refraction doesn't work right in their case. Somehow, they +pick up visual sensation right through a screen, regardless of its +adjustment. But things seen through a screen are distorted, and look +abnormal to them. Unless they're used to it, they get frightened when +they see a person with a refracted body shield. That's when the trouble +starts."</p> + +<p>Konar nodded in understanding. "You mean, they transmit their fear?"</p> + +<p>"They do. And they'll shock excite a mentacom, completely distorting its +wave pattern. If they remain conscious and scared, their fear is deadly +to its object." Meinora drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"As I said, you were lucky. The girl fainted and let you get away." He +shrugged and turned to Barskor.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to change our mode of operation," he added. "We'll pick up +the Earl's mentacom and belt at the hunt tomorrow. Find him alone, +knock him out with a paralyzer, and give him parahypnosis afterward. +It's not so good, but it's effective. But be sure you are alone, and +don't try to use visual refraction under any circumstance. Be better to +be seen, if it comes to that. There might be another transvisor around." +He kicked gently at the seat beside him.</p> + +<p>"This was just a secondary job, done in passing," he said, "but it's a +good thing we found this out when we did. It'll change our whole primary +plan. Now, we'll have to slog it out the hard way. On no account can +anyone refract. It might be suicide. We'll have to talk to travelers. We +want to know what abnormal or unusual developments have taken place in +what country in the last twenty years. Then, we'll have to check them +out. We've got a lot of work to do." He looked around. "Ciernar."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir?" The communications operator looked up.</p> + +<p>"Send in a report on this to Group. Make it 'operational.'"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 331px;"> +<img src="images/image3.png" width="331" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Konar tilted his head a little. "Say, chief, you said the transvisor's +fear was amplified by my mentacom. What if I wasn't wearing one?"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't feel a thing," Meinora smiled. "But don't get any ideas. +Without amplification, you couldn't control your shield properly. You'd +have protection, but your refraction control's entirely mental, and +levitation direction depends on mental, not physical control, remember?"</p> + +<p>"But how about you? You don't use amplification. Neither do several of +the other team chiefs."</p> + +<p>Meinora shrugged. "No," he admitted, "we don't need it, except in +abnormal circumstances. But we don't go around scaring transvisors. They +can't kill us, but they can make us pretty sick. You see we're a little +sensitive in some ways." He shook his head. "No, the only advantage I've +got is that I can spot a transvisor by her mental pattern—if I get +close enough. There's a little side radiation that can be detected, +though it won't pass an amplifier. When you've felt it once, you'll +never forget it. Makes you uncomfortable." He smiled wryly.</p> + +<p>"And you can believe me," he added, "when I do get close to a +transvisor, I'm very, very careful not to frighten her."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Winter passed, and spring, and summer came. Nal Gerda, Officer of the +Guard, stood on the small wharf below the old watchtower. He looked +across the narrows, examined the cliff opposite him, then looked upward +at the luminous sky. There were a few small clouds, whose fleecy +whiteness accentuated the clear blue about them. Brilliant sunshine +bathed the wharf and tower, driving away the night mists.</p> + +<p>It would not be long before the new guard came down the cliff. Gerda +stretched and drew a deep breath, savoring the summer morning air. Now, +it was pleasant, a happy contrast to the sullen skies and biting winter +winds he had faced a few short months ago.</p> + +<p>For a time, he looked at the green atop the cliffs, then he transferred +his attention upriver, toward the bend where the Nalen came out of the +pass to blow between the iron cliffs of Menstal. The water flowed +swiftly in the narrows, throwing off white glints as its ripples caught +the sunlight, then deepening to a dark blue where it came into the +shadow of the cliffs.</p> + +<p>A sudden call sounded from the lookout far above, and the officer +wheeled about, looking to the great chain which stretched from tower to +cliff, to block river traffic. It was in proper position, and Gerda +looked back at the bend.</p> + +<p>As he watched, a long, low barge drifted into sight, picking up speed as +it came into the rapid current. Polemen balanced themselves alertly in +the bow, their long sticks poised to deflect their course from any +threatening rocks.</p> + +<p>Gerda threw off the almost poetical admiration of beauty that had +possessed him a moment before and faced the guard house, from whence +came a scuffle of feet and the clank of arms, to tell of the guard's +readiness.</p> + +<p>"Turn out the Guard." Gerda drew himself up into a commanding pose.</p> + +<p>A group of men-at-arms marched stiffly out, followed by a pair of serfs. +The leader saluted Gerda with upraised hand.</p> + +<p>"The Guard is ready, My Captain," he proclaimed. "May the tax be rich."</p> + +<p>Gerda returned the salute. "It will be," he stated positively. "These +merchants have learned by now that to insult Portal Menstal with poor +offerings is unwise in the extreme. And, mark me, they'll not forget!"</p> + +<p>The barge approached and swung in toward the wharf in obedience to +Gerda's imperious gesture. One of the polemen jumped ashore, securing a +line to a bollard.</p> + +<p>The steersman climbed to the dock, to halt a pace in front of Gerda. He +folded his hands and bowed his head submissively.</p> + +<p>"Does Your Honor desire to inspect the cargo?"</p> + +<p>"Of course." Gerda's haughty glance appraised the man from toe to crown. +"Quickly now. I've little time to waste." He glanced back at his clerk, +who had a tablet ready.</p> + +<p>"Your name, Merchant?"</p> + +<p>"Teron, of Krongert, may it please you, sir. I have been to——"</p> + +<p>Gerda waved an impatient hand. "Save me your speech, Higgler," he said +curtly. "What's your cargo value?"</p> + +<p>"Six thousand teloa, Your Honor. We have——"</p> + +<p>"Unload it. I'll look at it." Gerda waved the man to silence.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As the bales of goods were placed on the wharf, Gerda examined them +critically. A few, he ordered set aside after a quick check and a few +questions. Others, he ordered opened and spread out. At last, satisfied +with his estimate of the cargo's valuation, he turned.</p> + +<p>"Your choice, Merchant?"</p> + +<p>"I would pay, Your Honor," said the man, "to the tenth part of my +cargo." He extended a leather bag.</p> + +<p>"Don't haggle with me," snapped Gerda. "The tax is a fifth of your +cargo, as you should well know." His hand sought his sword hilt.</p> + +<p>The merchant's face fell a little, and he produced a second bag, which +he held out to the officer. "I must apologize," he said. "I am new to +this land."</p> + +<p>"See that you learn its customs quickly, then." Gerda handed the bags to +his clerk.</p> + +<p>"Check these, Lor," he ordered. "I make it a thousand, six hundred +teloa."</p> + +<p>An expression of dismay crossed the merchant's face.</p> + +<p>"Your Honor," he wailed, "my cargo is of but six thousand valuation. I +swear it."</p> + +<p>Gerda stepped forward swiftly. His hand raised, to swing in a violent, +back-handed arc, his heavy rings furrowing the merchant's face. The man +staggered back, involuntarily raising a hand to his injured cheek.</p> + +<p>As a couple of the men-at-arms raised their pikes to the ready, the +merchant righted himself, folded his hands again, and bowed in +obeisance. Blood trickled down his chin, a drop spattering on his +clothing. He ignored it.</p> + +<p>"You would dispute my judgment?" Gerda drew his hand up for a second +blow. "Here is no market place for your sharp bargaining. For your +insolence, another five hundred teloa will be exacted. Make speed!"</p> + +<p>The merchant shook his head dazedly, but offered no word of protest. +Silently, he dug into his possessions, to produce a third bag. For a +moment, he weighed it in his hand, then reached into it, to remove a few +loose coins. Without raising his head, he extended the bag to the +officer of the guard.</p> + +<p>Gerda turned. Lor had gone into the guard house, to count the other two +bags. The officer raised his voice.</p> + +<p>"Lor, get back out here. I've more for you to count."</p> + +<p>He tossed the bag to the clerk, then stood, glaring at the unfortunate +trader. At last, he kicked the nearest bale.</p> + +<p>"Well," he growled, "get this stuff off the wharf. What are you waiting +for?"</p> + +<p>He watched the barge crew load, then turned. Lor came from the guard +house.</p> + +<p>"All is in order, My Captain."</p> + +<p>"Very well." Gerda looked at him approvingly. Then, he swung to the +merchant, fixing him with a stern glare.</p> + +<p>"We shall make note of your name, Merchant. See thou that you make +honest and accurate valuation in the future. Another time, we shall not +be so lenient. The dungeon of Menstal is no pleasant place."</p> + +<p>He watched till the last of the bargeload was stowed, then nodded +curtly.</p> + +<p>"You may shove off," he said. He turned his head toward the tower.</p> + +<p>"Down chain," he ordered loudly.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The windlass creaked protestingly and the heavy chain dropped slowly +into the river. The barge steered to the center of the channel, +gathering speed as it passed over the lowered chain.</p> + +<p>When the barge had cleared, serfs inside the tower strained at the +windlass in obedience to the commands of their overseer, and the chain +rose jerkily, to regain its former position across the stream.</p> + +<p>Gerda watched for a moment, then strode toward the guard house. He went +inside, to look at the bags of coin on the counting table.</p> + +<p>"Cattle," he growled, "to think they could cheat the Baron Bel Menstal +of his just tax."</p> + +<p>He stepped back out for a moment, to watch the merchant barge enter the +rapids beyond the chain. Then, he swung about and re-entered the tower.</p> + +<p>Inside, he sat down at his counting table. He opened the bags, spilling +their contents out on the boards, and checked their count.</p> + +<p>There were forty-eight over.</p> + +<p>He turned to his clerk.</p> + +<p>"What was your count, Lor?"</p> + +<p>"Two thousand, one hundred, sir, and forty-eight."</p> + +<p>"Very good." Gerda smiled a little. "For once in his thieving life, the +merchant was anxious to give full weight."</p> + +<p>Lor spread his hands. "He'll get it back, and more, at Orieano, sir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, to be sure." Gerda shrugged indifferently as he scooped the coins +back into the bags. He chose three small scraps of wood, scrawled tally +marks on them, and went over to a heavy chest.</p> + +<p>Taking a key from his belt, he unlocked the chest and raised its lid. He +looked at the bags lying within, then tossed the new ones on top of +them. As he locked the chest again, he saw Lor go to his account board, +to enter the new collection.</p> + +<p>The Officer of the Guard straightened, stretched for a moment, then +glanced critically in at the windlass room. The serfs had secured the +windlass and racked their poles. Now, they were sitting, hunched against +the wall, staring vacantly, in the manner of serfs. The guardroom, its +commander noted, was properly clean. He shrugged and walked out again to +the wharf. Once more, he looked at the iron cliffs opposite him, then +glanced downriver. The merchant barge had disappeared.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Beyond Menstal, the cliffs closed in still farther, to become more +rugged and to form a narrow gorge. Between them, the Nalen took a +tortuous course, turbulently fighting its way over the rocks. +Eventually, it would drop into the lowlands, to become a broad, placid +river, lowing quietly under the sunshine to water the fields of Orolies. +But during its passage through the mountains, it would remain a dark, +brawling torrent.</p> + +<p>The merchant barge swept through the rapids just beyond Menstal, her +polemen deftly preventing disaster against the rocks. At last, as the +gorge became a little wider, the steersman guided his course toward a +small beach beneath the cliffs. With his free hand, he thoughtfully +rubbed his injured cheek.</p> + +<p>As the boat's keel grated against gravel, he shook his head and stepped +forward. For a moment, he fumbled under a thwart, then he brought out a +small case.</p> + +<p>"Konar," he called, "fix this thing up for me, will you?" He opened the +case and laid it on the thwart.</p> + +<p>One of the polemen laid his stick down and came aft.</p> + +<p>"Pretty nasty clip, wasn't it, sir?"</p> + +<p>Meinora grinned. "Guy's got a heavy hand, all right," he admitted. "Made +me dizzy for a second. Almost got mad at him."</p> + +<p>Konar raised an eyebrow. "I felt it," he said. "Good thing Ciernar and I +backed you up a little. Wouldn't help us much to knock out the baron's +river detachment right now, would it?" He reached into the case.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though the merchants weren't exaggerating, if you ask me," he +added. He approached Meinora, a small swab in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Hold still, sir," he instructed. "This'll sting for a few seconds." He +dabbed at the cut cheek, then reached back into the case for an +instrument.</p> + +<p>"Ouch!" Meinora winced. "Did you have to use that stuff full strength? +After all, I can wait a couple of hours for it to heal." He shook his +head as his companion turned back toward him, then dashed involuntary +tears from his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision.</p> + +<p>"No," he added, "the merchants aren't exaggerating a bit on this one. +Bel Menstal's a pretty rough customer, and he keeps rough boys. Now, +we'll see whether he's the guy we've been looking for, the guy with our +equipment."</p> + +<p>Konar focused the small instrument on his superior's face, passing it +along the line of the jagged cut. "You didn't explain that part."</p> + +<p>"Simple enough." Meinora grinned wolfishly. "Those coins were a +Vadris-Kendar alloy. Now that they're out of their force field, they'll +start to sublimate. In a couple of hours or so, they'll be gone, and +someone will be asking a lot of questions. Set up the detectors. If the +baron is the boy we think he is, we should be getting a fairly strong +reading shortly after that guard's relieved."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>From somewhere atop the cliff, a bell tolled. The hoarse voice of the +lookout drifted down to the wharf.</p> + +<p>"Relieve the guard."</p> + +<p>Nal Gerda looked up. A line of men were coming down the steep path, +stepping cautiously as they wound about the sharp turns. Gerda nodded +and walked back into the guard room.</p> + +<p>"Draw up your guard," he ordered.</p> + +<p>He beckoned to two of the serfs.</p> + +<p>"Take the chest," he directed, "and stay close in front of me."</p> + +<p>Herding the bearers before him, he went out to the wharf. His guard was +drawn up in their proper station, facing upstream, so that they could +view both the steps from the cliff and the river. No traffic was in +sight in the long gorge.</p> + +<p>The new guard came slowly down the trail, formed at the foot of the +steps, and marched to the tower portal. Their commander dressed their +ranks, motioned to his clerk, and came forward, saluting as he +approached Gerda.</p> + +<p>"Anything unusual?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Gerda told him. "Seven barges, this watch. Traders are +gathering for the fair at Orieano."</p> + +<p>"I know," the other agreed. "We'll have rich collections for the rest of +the summer, what with fairs all down the valley. You'll be going to the +Orieano Fair?"</p> + +<p>"Got my permission yesterday. I'm to ride with the Baron. Have to give +the merchants back part of their money, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so." The other grinned, then sobered. "I'll relieve you, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Very good." Gerda saluted, then turned.</p> + +<p>"March off the old guard," he ordered.</p> + +<p>The men started up the steps. Gerda followed the serfs with the money +chest, bringing up to the rear.</p> + +<p>Slowly, they toiled their way up the trail, halting at the halfway point +for a brief rest. At last, they were at the top of the cliff. Before +them, the castle gate opened. Within the tunnellike passage through the +wall, two sentries grounded their pikes.</p> + +<p>Gerda nodded to his clerk, accepted the account tablet, and followed his +serfs, who still bore the money chest, into the castle.</p> + +<p>Inside the main counting room, his bearers set the chest on a large +table. The castle steward came toward them.</p> + +<p>"And how were collections?"</p> + +<p>"Reasonably good, sir. Seven barges came through during the night, with +good cargoes." Gerda held out the tablet.</p> + +<p>The steward looked at it, checking off the entries. "Meron, of +Vandor—Yes, he would have about that. And Borowa? A thousand?" He +nodded thoughtfully. "That seems about right for him." He tapped the +tablet a few times, squinting at the last name on the list. "But who is +this Teron? I never heard of him. Must have had a rich cargo, too."</p> + +<p>Gerda laughed shortly. "He's a new one to me. He tried to get away with +a tenth, then protested the valuation. I fined him an extra five +hundred."</p> + +<p>"Oho!" The steward smiled thinly. "What then?"</p> + +<p>Gerda shook his head. "Oh, he was suddenly so anxious to pay the right +amount, he gave me forty-eight teloa overweight. I'll know him next time +I see him, I'm sure. I marked him well for receipt."</p> + +<p>He inspected his knuckles reflectively, then took the key from his belt +and opened the chest.</p> + +<p>"You'll want to verify my count, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Yes, to be sure. Have to be certain, you know. And there's +your share of the fine and overpayment to be taken care of." The steward +reached into the chest, removing bags which clinked as they were dropped +to the table. He stopped, to look into the chest with a puzzled +expression on his face.</p> + +<p>"And what are these?" He reached in, to withdraw three obviously empty +bags. He looked curiously at the thongs which tied their mouths, then +shook them and looked questioningly at Gerda.</p> + +<p>"Why, I ... I don't know." Gerda looked incredulously at the bags. +"Certainly, I had no extra money bags."</p> + +<p>"I should think not." The steward frowned, then beckoned behind him. Two +heavily armed guards approached.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to examine into this."</p> + +<p>As the guards came close to Gerda, the steward looked closely at the +bags on the table, then picked one up, opening it.</p> + +<p>"Borowa," he muttered after looking inside and comparing the tally chip +with the count tablet. He weighed the bag in his hand. "Yes, it seems to +be about right. Certainly not overweight." He picked up another, then +still another. At last, he looked up.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I shall have to count all of these carefully," he remarked +grimly, "but I see no coin from this Teron you have listed." He stared +coldly at Gerda. "And the tower lookout confirms that you had seven +barges. That was a considerable amount. What did you do with that +money?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I counted it. It was all there." Gerda shook his head +unbelievingly. "My count agreed with that of my clerk, and I dropped +tallies in and closed the bags again." He looked uneasily at the two +guards who flanked him. "Surely, you don't think I'd be so foolish as to +tamper with the Baron's taxes? Think, man! I know the Baron's ways!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure just what I think—yet." The steward shook his head. He +picked up one of the empty bags, opened it, and gave it a shake. The +small tally chip fell out and he picked it up, comparing it with the +list on the tablet. Frowning thoughtfully, he opened the other two bags. +More small blocks of wood fell out. He looked at the bags, then tossed +them aside and looked coldly at the guard officer.</p> + +<p>"It's witchcraft," cried Gerda. "I had nothing——"</p> + +<p>"We'll see." The steward motioned at the two guards. "Search this man."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dazedly, Gerda stood still, submitting as one of the guards went through +his clothing while the other stood ready to deal with any resistance. +The searcher made a thorough examination of Gerda's clothing, muttered +to himself, and went over his search again. A pile of personal objects +lay on the table when he had finished. At last, he looked at the +prisoner, then faced his chief.</p> + +<p>"He has nothing on him, sir, not even a teloa."</p> + +<p>"So I see." The steward frowned, then looked at Gerda.</p> + +<p>"You may reclaim your possessions now, captain. Is there any chance that +your clerk might have opened the money chest?"</p> + +<p>Gerda shook his head. "I don't see how he could, sir, unless he had a +duplicate key, and that's hardly possible. I kept the chest locked at +all times, and the key never left my person."</p> + +<p>"And there is no chance that any of your men could have hidden anything +on the way here?"</p> + +<p>Again, Gerda shook his head. "None," he said positively. "I was behind +them all the way, and would have seen if any had made any unusual +motion."</p> + +<p>"Very well." The steward clapped his hands sharply.</p> + +<p>There was a clatter of arms, followed by the scuffle of feet. Across the +room, a door opened and a detachment of the castle guard filed in. +Their leader stepped forward, saluting the steward.</p> + +<p>"There is a river watch outside," he was told. "Disarm them, take them +to a cell, and search them thoroughly. A considerable amount of coin has +been stolen. Report to me when you have finished."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." The group filed out.</p> + +<p>The steward turned to Gerda again.</p> + +<p>"This matter must be examined carefully," he declared. "You may have +been the victim of witchcraft, of course, though I doubt it, never +having witnessed such a thing. Or one of your men may have worked out a +cunning method of theft, an occurrence which I have witnessed many +times. Or, there's the other possibility." He stroked his chin. "After +all, you were the rearmost man, and the one none other would observe."</p> + +<p>Gerda looked at him fearfully.</p> + +<p>"This may become a matter for the Baron's personal attention," continued +the steward. He looked sharply at Gerda. "How long have you been in the +Baron's service?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you know that, sir. Ten years, ever since I——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I remember. And you know how hopeless it is to try to deceive +the Baron?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Gerda swallowed painfully.</p> + +<p>"But you still insist you had nothing to do with the disappearance of +this money?"</p> + +<p>Gerda spread his hands. "I can't understand it, sir. But I had nothing +to do with it myself. As I told you, we collected it, listed it, counted +it, and I put it in the chest and locked it up." He shook his head +again. "It's witchcraft, sir."</p> + +<p>The steward leaned back, a slight smile playing about his lips.</p> + +<p>"Witchcraft is good enough for serfs," he said smoothly, "but you and I +are intelligent men. We have had collection money disappear before, many +times. Almost always, there has been the cry, 'It's witchcraft!' And +always there has been a more simple, worldly explanation." He snapped +his lingers and a page hurried forward.</p> + +<p>"A cup of wine," ordered the steward. "This questioning is thirsty +work." He faced back to Gerda.</p> + +<p>"Always," he repeated, "some explanation has been forthcoming. Usually, +I have discovered the errant one—with the help of my guards, of course. +And the criminal has been duly punished. But there have been some few +occasions when the malefactor was so clever as to force the Baron's +intervention." He paused, leaning forward a little.</p> + +<p>"And do you know what happened then?"</p> + +<p>Gerda's throat was becoming dry. His mouth opened, but he closed it +again.</p> + +<p>The page returned, bearing a large cup and a flagon of wine. Carefully, +he filled the cup, then set it before the steward, who lifted it to his +lips, drank, and set it down with a satisfied sigh.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, boy. Here is one thing we can produce well in these +mountains." He wiped his lips and turned his gaze to Gerda again. He +shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>"The Baron can detect guilt or innocence in a moment. For a short time, +he questioned the persons brought before him. He soon determined the +guilty ones, and wrung confessions from their wretched lips. We then +took them away, and turned them over to the torturers." He raised the +cup again.</p> + +<p>"You know," he added, "I'm told that some of them lasted as long as ten +full days." He shook his head. "I could never understand how the +executioners can put up with such noise for so long. But then, I suppose +one gets used to most anything."</p> + +<p>He looked toward the door. "Strange," he murmured, "I wonder what's +keeping Maro so long." He clapped his hands sharply once more, and +waited.</p> + +<p>The page dashed to a door and disappeared within. At last, he came back, +holding the door for the leader of the castle guard detachment, who came +forward to salute his superior.</p> + +<p>"Have you found anything yet?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir. We have stripped them, but they have no unusual things +about them. And we have questioned them. None will admit to seeing or +doing anything other than normal duties."</p> + +<p>The steward sighed. "Very well. Secure them, then. I'll call for them +later." He stood.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image4.png" width="400" height="331" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Come, Nal Gerda," he ordered, "unless you have something further to +tell me of this, we must have an audience with the Baron."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Florel, Baron Bel Menstal, sat at his ease. Before him was a dish of +good cakes, beside him, a cup and flagon of good wine. He looked +contentedly around the apartment.</p> + +<p>For fourteen years now, he had been lord of this castle. And for +fourteen years, he had busied himself building his forces and increasing +his power and influence in the duchy. He had made himself feared and +respected.</p> + +<p>During the past several years, his word had been of great weight in the +Duke's councils. He was now one of the great barons of the realm. He +smiled to himself.</p> + +<p>As he had risen in importance, Orieano, the soft holder of the rich +fields to the west, had fallen. The man was getting old—even older than +the Duke himself, and he was tired. And his daughter was the sole heir +to that barony.</p> + +<p>Again, Menstal smiled to himself as he thought of the daughter of +Orieano. Next month, at the fair, he would press suit for the hand of +the heiress, and a few months after that he would have control of the +rich farm lands and the trading city.</p> + +<p>The girl would probably protest, but that would do her little good. He +knew what fear could do. And he could rouse such fear as to render even +strong men but helpless masses of flesh. The beauteous damsel of Orieano +would be a simple task. None other would dare dispute his claim, and the +Duke would come to support him.</p> + +<p>And the Duke himself? Ah, well, perhaps it would be as well to allow him +to finish his life in peaceful possession of his broad fields. But +certainly, the son of Dwerostel would have no word in the control of the +duchy. An accident could be easily arranged, and Flor, one-time woods +beater and scullery boy of Budorn, would become the great Duke he had +long planned to be. No, it wouldn't take too many more years.</p> + +<p>He filled himself a cup, and looked complacently into its clear depths. +The tap on the door broke his reverie, and he looked up, annoyed.</p> + +<p>He stared impatiently at his castle steward as the man entered and made +obeisance.</p> + +<p>"What now, Weron?" He set the cup down. "Must I be bothered with all +your petty problems?"</p> + +<p>"This, Excellency, is an unusual problem. A sizable tribute payment has +disappeared without trace. The empty bags were left, and the culprit +has——"</p> + +<p>"Enough!" The Baron waved a hand impatiently, then adjusted his golden +coronet to a more comfortable angle. For an instant, his fingers played +with the ornamental bosses.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I see," he snapped. "You can spare me your mumbled details. +This man is the officer of the guard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Excellency." The steward motioned Gerda forward.</p> + +<p>Bel Menstal looked sternly at his officer. "Where did you hide your +loot?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Gerda looked incredulously at his master. He had stolen nothing. As far +as he knew, he had done nothing wrong. But he seemed to be condemned in +advance. Something was insistently pressing on his brain, demanding a +confession. He had nothing to confess, but the demanding pressure +remained. He struggled against it, and it grew.</p> + +<p><i>Admit it. How did you do it? Where is the money?</i></p> + +<p>The pressure became a tearing force. Gerda swayed weakly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what happened," he insisted. "I told——"</p> + +<p>The words stopped as the force became almost unbearably intense. A +sudden, sharp pain tore at Gerda's throat, and blinding light seemed to +strike back of his eyes. Through the glare, he dimly saw the Baron raise +a hand threateningly.</p> + +<p>"You claim to have no idea at all how the money was taken, or which of +your men may have been the thief? This is not a sensible attitude."</p> + +<p><i>You know something. You must know something. Tell it!</i></p> + +<p>Gerda shook his head miserably, entirely unable to speak. Somehow, +nothing was clear. He remembered that something had gone wrong. Somehow, +he had failed his duty. But how? The room was hazy. Snatches of his last +tour of duty rose to his consciousness, then were abruptly blotted +out—gone. The faces of his clerk and of the men-at-arms came out of the +haze for an instant. Then, they, too, were gone.</p> + +<p>The room seemed to spin and an irresistible force bore him to the floor. +As he slowly was pressed downward, he wondered who he was—why he was +here—what had happened. Then, the floor came at him with blinding speed +and he ceased to wonder. The haze about him scintillated and became +impenetrable darkness.</p> + +<p>The Baron looked down at the crumpled form.</p> + +<p>"Take this man away, Weron," he ordered. "He knew nothing." He stroked +his hair. "When he recovers, assign him to some unimportant duty in the +castle. Something, of course, that will demand little thought or +spirit."</p> + +<p>"And the others, Excellency?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bring them in, one at a time. One of them managed to make a +complete fool of his officer, of course. But I'll find him."</p> + +<p>Bel Menstal waved his hand in dismissal, then leaned back in his chair, +watching as his steward directed a pair of men-at-arms. They carried the +limp form from the room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"There. That'll pick up any power radiation from the castle." Konar +straightened, looking at the small panel.</p> + +<p>"Good enough." Meinora leaned over, checking the dials. "See you've set +it for average power."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. It'll give a flicker indication for low levels and it'll fail +to trip for unaided thought. Not too much chance of an overload, +either."</p> + +<p>"That's right. You're learning." Meinora nodded casually. "Well, let's +keep watch on it." He sat down. "Audio alarm on?"</p> + +<p>Konar glanced at the panel again. "I remembered it this time." He +grinned, then looked curiously at his superior's cut cheek. The wound +was healing nicely. In an hour or so, there would be no visible trace of +the injury.</p> + +<p>"Say, Chief," he asked, "how'd you happen to get slapped?"</p> + +<p>"I asked for it." Meinora smiled thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I know that. But what was the purpose?"</p> + +<p>"This continent has never been thoroughly checked, so we're sampling the +culture. We know a lot about them now, but there's a lot we still have +to know. For example, how do they react to various stimuli? And how much +stimulus is necessary to produce a given action? Of course, we can't +check every individual, but we can pick up a sample from each community +we contact and extrapolate from them." Meinora spread his hands.</p> + +<p>"So, I presented a minor irritation to that officer, and he +reacted—fast. He didn't just slap me for effect. He was infuriated at +the insult to his authority. Not only that, but his men expected him to +react in just that manner. I noted that, too. He'd have lost face if +he'd acted in any other way. And the men-at-arms were disappointed when +we gave them no further excuse for violence. We really lost face with +them. There, we have an indication that violence is the expected thing +in this particular castle, which is a community of the duchy. Right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Konar nodded thoughtfully. "They're not only violent themselves, +but they expect violence from others. I see what you mean. You'll sample +the other baronies?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. As many as we contact. They can tell us quite a bit. We——"</p> + +<p>A buzzer interrupted him. Meinora snapped a switch and sat forward +alertly.</p> + +<p>A needle quivered, rose from its rest, and swung abruptly across the +meter scale. With an audible ping, it slapped against the stop beyond +the maximum reading.</p> + +<p>Meinora looked sharply at the detector set, then turned a selector +switch. The needle moved reluctantly away from the pin, but remained +above the red line at center scale. Meinora grimaced, twisted the +selector again, and adjusted another knob, till the needle came to rest +at center.</p> + +<p>He examined the dial readings, frowned incredulously, then turned.</p> + +<p>"Look at it," he invited. "It's a wonder he hasn't burned that amplifier +out. It's a heavy duty job, I know. But——"</p> + +<p>Konar leaned over his chief's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"What an overload! We've found it, all right. But what's going on?"</p> + +<p>"Let's find out." Meinora flipped a switch. The two men tensed against +the resultant shock and were silent for a time. At last, Konar reached +out to snap the switch off.</p> + +<p>"Just raw, crushing force," he said wonderingly. "A ferocious demand, +with no regard for facts, no consideration of mental characteristics, no +thought of consequence." He shook his head slowly. "Never experienced +anything just like that before."</p> + +<p>"With the power he's using," Meinora remarked, "it's a wonder he doesn't +upset every mind in his castle." He snapped the detector off.</p> + +<p>"Including his own." Konar nodded and looked at the dial settings. "One +thing's sure. This boy never had any instruction." He stepped back. +"Well, we know he has it. What's the procedure?"</p> + +<p>Meinora was frowning thoughtfully. He stroked his injured cheek, then +shook his head.</p> + +<p>"We certainly let that guard officer in for something," he mused. "Have +to pick him up and give him therapy, I think." He looked at Konar. "Oh, +procedure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Do we catch him alone and proceed as we did with the last +one? That worked with no trouble."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think it'd work out so well in this case. If I caught it +right, this one's almost never by himself outside his apartment. Likes +to impress his personality on people." Meinora looked at the detector +set, then around at the younger man beside him.</p> + +<p>"You know, I got some interesting side thoughts just now. Maybe we can +do two jobs in one this time. It'll take a little longer, but it might +save time in the long run."</p> + +<p>The communications operator came over. "Not another of those?" he asked +with a grin.</p> + +<p>Meinora nodded. "I'm just dreaming up a nice, dirty trick," he admitted. +"Tried something like it once before, on a smaller scale. It worked." He +stood up, stretching.</p> + +<p>"The fair's going to be on at Orieano in a little while, right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Be a pretty big affair, too, I think. Why?"</p> + +<p>"And the Duke'll be there, of course, along with most of his court and a +good share of his fighting men?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, sir. They tell me he's always been there. Don't suppose he'll +skip it this time."</p> + +<p>"So, it's perfect. We'll get this set of equipment in public, and with +apparent legitimacy. And in the process, we'll set up social strains +that'll result in this area reorienting itself." Meinora looked around +with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Look, call Barskor. Tell him to pick us up with the flier. We'll go +down to the hills south of Orieano. Tell you about it on the way."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The last of the river guards was carried out, head dangling limply from +the arms of one of the bearers. Bel Menstal sat back in his chair, +frowning. Abruptly, he turned on his steward.</p> + +<p>"None of them knew a thing," he snarled. "None of them. There's +something funny going on here."</p> + +<p>The steward's face was drawn. Dizzying forces had assailed him, and he +had almost collapsed several times during the questioning. He tried to +gather his hazy thoughts. Too many kept coming too fast.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Excellency," he agreed. "Maybe it <i>is</i> witchcraft."</p> + +<p>Bel Menstal's face darkened. "Nonsense," he growled, rising part way out +of his chair. "Witchcraft be damned! There's some explanation to this, +and I'm going to find out what it is."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Excellency."</p> + +<p>The Baron looked up, then stared contemptuously at his man.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Excellency," he mimicked in a singsong voice. "Always 'Yes, +Excellency.' Haven't you an idea of your own?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Excellency, I——"</p> + +<p>"Inept fool! There's an explanation to this, I tell you. And peasant +superstition has no part in it. You should have found it. But no! You +came, dragging a whole detachment of guards in for me to question. Me, +the Baron! I have to do all the work—all the thinking. I tell you, I +want men about me who can think and act."</p> + +<p>He got out of his chair and circled the table, striding close to the +steward.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you one more chance, Weron. Go out and find what happened to +that money. I don't care how you do it, and I'm not going to be bothered +with your petty details. But find out where that money has gone. Is that +simple enough for you to understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Excellency." Weron backed toward the door. "I'll——"</p> + +<p>Reckless fury shook Florel. Suddenly, he felt an irresistible craving +for direct, violent action. He picked a dagger from his belt.</p> + +<p>"You're not only a fool," he shouted, "but a spineless one, as well. I +think I'll have to get another steward. A good one." He raised the +dagger, then paused.</p> + +<p>"Here, weakling. You'd like to use this, wouldn't you? But you lack the +will. That's why you're a mere lackey." Abruptly, he threw the weapon at +Weron.</p> + +<p>"Try it, fool. Try it, and see how a real man protects himself."</p> + +<p>He stalked toward the steward.</p> + +<p>The man cringed away, then, pressed by his master, suddenly sobbed with +rage. He raised the dagger. Bel Menstal, protected by his body shield, +brushed the stroke aside.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" He snatched the weapon. "You would try it?"</p> + +<p>Weron threw his arms before him, trying to ward off the blows, then +slumped as the blade sank into his flesh.</p> + +<p>Bel Menstal struck the sagging body a few more times with the dagger, +then threw the weapon on top of the inert form.</p> + +<p>"Ho, Guards," he shouted, flinging the door open.</p> + +<p>He went back to his chair and watched as the guards came in. In +obedience to his gesture, they carried the one-time steward from the +room. The door closed, and Bel Menstal was alone. Slowly, the +stimulation of the encounter faded, and he shook his head.</p> + +<p>It had been pleasant for a few minutes, he thought, but he had solved +nothing.</p> + +<p>Could it be that searchers from his native land had at last found him? +He frowned. No, they wouldn't use some devious method, even supposing +they could find some way of corrupting his household. They would simply +expose him and accuse him before the Duke. They'd storm his castle if +necessary, to take him by force. This was something else. He would have +to think. He put his elbows on the table, cupping his face in his hands.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The great market square at Orieano was crowded. Colorful tents hid most +of the cobblestones, and the rest of the pavement was obscured from view +by the droves of people. Merchants and their assistants hovered about, +each endeavoring to outdo the rest in enticing the swarming crowd into +his tent. Jugglers and mountebanks competed for attention, outdoing even +themselves in their efforts to gain the ears, the eyes, and the coins of +the mob of bargain hunters.</p> + +<p>At one side of the square, the cattle mart was drawing many, who +listened to the noise of the beasts and the shouts of the vendors. Some +paused to bargain. Others simply strode about, still looking for the +things they had come to seek out. Here and there, a cutpurse slunk +through the crowd, seeking his own type of bargain—an unwary victim.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Dwerostel rode into the market, conscious of a buzz which +rose to a loud hum. The bellowing of beasts, the cries of vendors, the +scuffling of many feet, all blended into one great sound—the voice of +the fair.</p> + +<p>The Duke listened contentedly. Here, he thought, was activity. Here, his +chamberlain would find the things he had been ordered to get that the +comfort of the castle might be furthered. And here was a certainty of +tolls and taxes, which would enrich the duchy.</p> + +<p>He continued at the head of his retinue, through the center of the +square. Time enough to take close note of the market later. Now, he +wished to get to the castle of Orieano, where he would take refreshment +after his trip.</p> + +<p>He looked up at the heights above the town. Pennants were flying from +the stone battlements. And he could see the tiny figures of the guard. +His presence in the town had certainly been noted. He rode to the other +side of the square, and led his company up the steep, winding road to +the castle's town gate.</p> + +<p>The sentries grounded their pikes and stood rigidly as the ducal escort +rode through the gate, the pennons on their lances flying with the +breeze of their passage. The ducal party swept through the outer ward, +through the inner wall, and came to a halt before the keep.</p> + +<p>The Baron of Orieano waited before his keep. He came forward, bowing low +before his liege, then steadied a stirrup as the Duke dismounted. He +waved toward the dinning hall.</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency will grace us with his presence at meat?"</p> + +<p>The Duke gestured to a page, who took the charger's reins to guide the +beast away.</p> + +<p>"It would be pleasing to us," he said.</p> + +<p>He nodded graciously and followed his vassal into the hall. He nodded in +approval at the long tables, waited until the clanging of the welcoming +salute subsided, and went to the elevated table set for his use and that +of his Baron.</p> + +<p>He sat down, looking over the company. A glint of gold caught his eye, +and he looked curiously at two men who sat a little way down the table.</p> + +<p>These two were elegantly turned out, their long cloaks thrown back to +expose richly embroidered cloth. The Duke examined them closely. +Obviously, here was one of the great western nobles, with an almost +equally noble companion. The golden circlet proclaimed the identity of +one, and the proud bearing and rich dress of both confirmed their +station. Somehow, the Duke thought, these two presented a far more +imposing appearance than his vassal, the Baron Bel Menstal, despite that +Baron's overwhelming personality.</p> + +<p>He thought of his hard fighting border protector. Of course, he had far +to come, and the way through the mountains could be difficult. But it +was a little strange he was not yet here.</p> + +<p>The Duke remembered some of the resentful gazes he had noted during his +passage through the fair. He must have words, he decided, with Bel +Menstal. Possibly the man was a little too eager to collect his road and +river taxes. Possibly this hard man of his was too hard, too grasping. +Of course, he held a valuable bastion against the tribes of the +Ajerical, but——</p> + +<p>He shrugged away his thoughts and devoted his attention to the dishes +before him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As the Duke took up his food, the waiting company commenced reaching for +dishes. Konar turned toward Meinora with a slight smile.</p> + +<p><i>"Got 'em well trained, hasn't he?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"That he has. Another note for our cultural information."</i></p> + +<p><i>"When do you want me to talk to him?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"After he's finished his main courses and got a few cups of wine in +him. Our boy'll be delayed for a while, you know. We've plenty of time +to let Orieano fill the Duke in before Bel Menstal arrives."</i></p> + +<p>Klion Meinora turned his attention to the trencher before him for a +moment, then looked toward his companion again.</p> + +<p><i>"Notice the girl sitting by the Baron?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"You mean Orieano's daughter?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"Precisely. Don't give her any cause for fear. Don't even make a +sudden move in her presence."</i></p> + +<p><i>"You mean——?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"I do. She could become Lady Death, if she got frightened."</i></p> + +<p>Konar looked toward the elevated table. The girl looked harmless enough. +She was slender, attractive, even delicate looking. But he remembered a +horror-distorted face, a mind-shattering scream, and a blinding flash of +light. He shuddered a little and turned his attention to his food.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image5.png" width="400" height="271" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Florel Bel Menstal strode into the hall, looking toward the table head. +The Duke, he noted, was still at table, though he had finished his meal. +Now, he was engaged in earnest conversation with Orieano.</p> + +<p>This, Bel Menstal thought, must be checked. Haughtily ignoring the rest +of the company, he paced to the head of the table, where he made +perfunctory obeisance.</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency," he greeted. He straightened. "I offer my apologies +for my late appearance. My men had to clear a slide from the way." He +turned toward Orieano.</p> + +<p>"You would do well to instruct your serfs in the art of road building. +Their work seems slack."</p> + +<p>He faced the Duke again. The overlord set his cup down.</p> + +<p>"Bel Menstal," he said gravely, "two nobles of your former land have +come to me to present serious accusations." He rose. "You will accompany +me to the chambers."</p> + +<p>Bel Menstal hesitated. His men were outside the castle, of course. It +was against etiquette to bring them inside, especially when the Duke +was present. But there were plenty of them. Possibly he should fight his +way out of here now. Once in his hilltop castle, he would be +impregnable. And his raiding parties could keep the barony in supplies. +Or possibly it would be better to——</p> + +<p>He forced his panic down. After all, what could these two do? There +could be little evidence they could offer. Well over twenty years had +passed. He had adopted the ways of the land. Now, he was one of the +Duke's powerful arms. And what could they give to offset that?</p> + +<p>Here was no cause for fear. He could bluff his way out of this +accusation, discredit the searchers, and make his position permanently +secure. Possibly it was even better this way. He looked scornfully at +the two men who moved toward him.</p> + +<p>They were dressed in the ornate court dress of the Western Empire, he +saw. Unquestionably, these were genuine men of the west. But he was now +of the east. And here, he had established himself, and would soon +establish himself more firmly, while they were mere foreigners. When it +came to it, the Duke would hardly dare be too critical of him. +Confidently, he pushed his way past the nearer of the two westerners, to +follow the Duke to the audience chamber.</p> + +<p>As the Duke faced about, one of the newcomers stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"There is the man, Excellency," he said positively. "Here is no man of +noble birth. This man is a serf—a mere scullery boy-who murdered his +noble master to steal his insignia. We have searched for many years, for +his crime was so monstrous that no effort could be too great to bring +him to justice." He faced Bel Menstal.</p> + +<p>"Flor, serf of Budorn," he said sternly, "your time of reckoning has +come. Hand over the stolen insignia."</p> + +<p>The Duke intervened.</p> + +<p>"Aren't we going a little fast?" he asked mildly. "He claims to be a +younger son of the Earl of Konewar. Let him speak in his defense."</p> + +<p>The stranger nodded. "That we learned, Excellency," he admitted. "And +that is what led us to him, for it is one of the great holes in his +story. We know of Konewar. True, he had two sons, but the younger was +killed several years ago." He paused.</p> + +<p>"There is a further bit of evidence I might offer," he added. "And I +feel sure that some study by your chamberlain will bear me out." He +pointed at the coronet worn by Florel.</p> + +<p>"That insignia of rank which this man profanes is never given to other +than the rightful heir to a great estate. And then, not until he +succeeds to his title. No younger member of any of our noble families +has ever been allowed the coronet or the belt. Even many large +landholders, such as I, do not have them. Those are reserved for the +heads of the great houses, and there are few of them in existence. +Certainly, no western Earl would desert his holdings to journey to far +lands and to take service with another, not even one so highly placed as +yourself."</p> + +<p>The Duke looked sharply at him, then turned his gaze on his vassal. +"These words have the ring of truth," he said. "Can you answer them? +Have you perchance traded upon our unfamiliarity with your home country +to misrepresent your station?"</p> + +<p>Flor looked around the room. Possibly there was still time to——Or +possibly he could still face these men down. Only one of them wore a +coronet. He drew himself up arrogantly.</p> + +<p>"These are cunning deceivers," he stated positively. "When I left +Konewar, my father himself——"</p> + +<p>Meinora raised a hand threateningly. "Your father was never in Konewar, +Serf," he said sternly. "Your father still tends his master's fields in +the hills of Budoris."</p> + +<p>Flor snatched his sword from its sheath. This was the unprotected one. +He could be struck with the sword, and perhaps in the confusion, an +escape would be possible.</p> + +<p>"That is the last insult," he snarled. "I challenge you to combat, to +test whether you can support your lies."</p> + +<p>"Nobles," was the reply, "do not fight with serfs. You should know that. +The great ones, like him," Meinora pointed at Konar, who stood close to +the Duke, "have no contact with such as you. But I am here. And when a +serf becomes insolent, we have ways of punishing him."</p> + +<p>Konar smiled a little, pointing a small object as Meinora slipped his +own sword out.</p> + +<p>Flor lunged furiously, and Meinora stepped aside. The man had +determination and fierce courage. But he had never bothered to really +learn the use of his weapon. No need, of course. He had never been +compelled to put up a defense. Not till now. The hand weapon held by +Konar would destroy his invulnerability.</p> + +<p>Meinora struck suddenly at Flor's hand with the flat of his blade, then +engaged the man's sword with his own, and twisted. The weapon clattered +to the floor and Flor stooped to recover it.</p> + +<p>The team chief laughed shortly, bringing the flat of his blade down in a +resounding smack and Flor straightened, involuntarily bringing a hand to +his outraged rear. Again, the blade descended, bringing a spurt of dust +from his clothing. Flor twisted, trying to escape, but his assailant +followed, swinging blow after full armed blow with the flat of his +sword. He worked with cool skill.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Flor that the punishing steel came from all directions, to +strike him at will. Blows fell on his back, his legs, even his face, and +he cringed away, trying desperately to escape the stinging pain. Under +the smarting blows, he remembered previous whippings, administered by a +strong-armed kitchen master, and he seemed to smell the stench of the +scullery once more. Suddenly, he sank to his knees in surrender.</p> + +<p>"Please, Master. No more, please." He raised his hands, palms together, +and looked up pleadingly.</p> + +<p>The Duke looked down in horrified disgust.</p> + +<p>"And this, I accepted. This, I made a Baron of my realm." He transferred +his gaze to Konar. Suddenly, he looked feeble and humbly supplicant.</p> + +<p>Flor sniffled audibly.</p> + +<p>"I know you have come a long way," the Duke said, "but I would ask of +you a favor. I would deal with this miscreant. Your injury is old. It +has been partially healed by time, and it does not involve honor so +deeply as does my own." He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I have abandoned the dignity of my station, and the injury is fresh and +must continue unless I act to repair it."</p> + +<p>Konar nodded graciously. "Your Excellency's request is just," he said. +"We but came to reclaim the lost insignia of Budorn." He stepped +forward, taking the circlet from Flor's head. Two guards seized the +prisoner, and Konar tore the belt from the man's waist.</p> + +<p>"This insigne must be remounted," he said. "The belt has been dishonored +for too long." He broke the fastenings holding the body shield to the +leather, and threw the heavy strap back at Flor.</p> + +<p>"We are deeply indebted to you, Excellency," he added, turning to the +Duke. "If it is your will, we shall remain only for the execution, then +return to our own land."</p> + +<p>The Duke sighed. "It is well." He nodded at the guards. "Remove him," he +ordered. "An execution will be held at daybreak."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>"Very good, Konar. You handled that beautifully."</i></p> + +<p><i>"Thanks, Chief. What's next?"</i></p> + +<p><i>"Just keep the Duke busy with bright conversation. Buck up his spirits +a bit. The old boy's had a nasty shock, and unfortunately, he's due for +another one. Too bad, but it's for the best. I'll take it from here."</i></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Diners looked up curiously as the two guards led Flor through the hall +to the outer door. A few rose and followed as the three men went past +the sentries at the portal, and came out into the sunshine of the inner +ward. Across the cobblestones was the narrow entrance to the dungeon.</p> + +<p>Flor looked around despairingly. His charger stood, waiting for the +rider, who would never again—Or would he?</p> + +<p>He remembered that he was still carrying the heavy belt that had been so +contemptuously flung at him. When the strap had been thrown, he had +flung a hand up to protect his already aching face. He had caught and +held the belt, and no one had thought to take it from him.</p> + +<p>He suddenly swerved his thick shoulders, swinging the heavy strap at the +eyes of one of his guards. With a cry of pain, the man covered his face, +and Flor spun, to swing the strap at the other guard. Before the two men +could recover, he dashed to the side of his mount, swung into the +saddle, and urged the beast into motion.</p> + +<p>The wall was low on this side, but Flor remembered it towered high above +the dry moat. And across that moat were the woods, where his men waited. +He urged the beast to full speed, forcing the animal to the top of the +wall and over.</p> + +<p>For an almost endless instant, time seemed to stop. The barren moat and +green weeds floated beneath him, and the only reminder of his rapid drop +was the air, which whistled past his ears. Suddenly, motion was restored +again, and they lit with a jarring crash, just at the lip of the moat.</p> + +<p>With a cry of agony, the charger pitched forward, pawing at the stones +that had smashed his chest, and throwing his rider over his head. Flor +managed to land uninjured. He picked himself up and ran to the edge of +the forest before he stopped to look back.</p> + +<p>Heads were appearing atop the wall. At the edge of the moat, the charger +struggled vainly, then dropped from sight. Flor waved defiantly at the +growing crowd which stared from the high wall.</p> + +<p>"The Duke hangs nobody," he shouted, "unless he can catch and hold him." +He turned, to make his way through the trees.</p> + +<p>"In fact," he added to himself, "I may yet return to hang the Duke."</p> + +<p>He went to the meadow where his escort was encamped.</p> + +<p>"We have been betrayed," he shouted. "The Duke plots with the merchants +to destroy Bel Menstal and hang his men. Break camp! We must gather the +forces of the barony."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baron Bel Orieano looked worried.</p> + +<p>"The Duke has sent couriers," he said, "to gather the fighting men of +the duchy. But it will be a long, hard struggle. The serf has gained the +hills of Menstal. He has raised his men, and has dared to attack. Some +say he has enlisted those very hill tribes, from whose depredations he +swore to defend the duchy, and even has them serving under his banner." +He looked at Meinora and Konar.</p> + +<p>"The roads of the duchy are no longer safe. Raiding parties appear at +every wooded stretch. Nor can we even be certain that the couriers have +gotten through to Dweros." He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I, of course, am loyal to the Duke. But my forces are few. My barony +has been a peaceful community, having little need for arms."</p> + +<p>Meinora smiled encouragingly. "Yet there are fighters here," he said, +"and in plenty."</p> + +<p>The Baron looked at him curiously. "Where? I have no knowledge of such."</p> + +<p>Konar leaned forward. "If you can help us get the Duke's approval, we +can raise an army which ten Bel Menstals would fail to withstand."</p> + +<p>"The Duke's approval?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly." Konar waved his hand. "Look over your walls, Excellency. +You have burghers. There are armorers, merchants, with their caravan +guards, artisans, even peasants. Here, today, are gathered more +able-bodied men than Bel Menstal could raise, were he to search out and +impress all the hill tribes."</p> + +<p>"But, to arm these Commoners? And would they fight?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure. Given reason, they will fight like madmen."</p> + +<p>Meinora leaned forward, speaking rapidly. "For long years, they have +suffered from the road and river taxes of Bel Menstal, as well as from +the insults and blows of his officers. Many of them have been +imprisoned, and held for ruinous ransom. Others have been tortured and +killed. Under the serf, they would suffer additional taxes, until they +were driven from the land, or themselves reduced to serfdom and even +slavery." He waved at the town.</p> + +<p>"Caravans would be halted and stripped of both goods and coin. All this, +he has done before, but on no such scale as he would were restraining +hands removed." Meinora spread his hands.</p> + +<p>"The Duke has only to promise, under his solemn oath, to rid the land of +robbers, to allow the merchants and artisans to police the land, and to +form those guilds and associations which they have long petitioned for +their own protection. For these things, they will fight."</p> + +<p>The Baron leaned back in his chair. He had heard some of these arguments +before, but had ignored them, thinking that they were mere special +pleading from interested merchants. Now, they were being presented by +men of his own station.</p> + +<p>And the situation was urgent. Drastic measures were necessary. Under the +gaze of the two, he felt a change of thought. The whole thing was +possible, of course, and it might be that trade, uninterrupted by robber +depredation, would provide greater taxes than before.</p> + +<p>Finally, he rose to his feet. "Come," he said, "we will seek audience +with the Duke and put this matter before him."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Well, that's part of the job." Klion Meinora twisted in his seat and +craned his neck to look at the green fields spread out beneath the +flier.</p> + +<p>"It worked out almost exactly as you explained it, Chief." Konar looked +curiously at his instructor. "But I missed a couple of steps somewhere."</p> + +<p>"It followed from the culture pattern." Meinora raised an eyebrow. "You +saw the reaction of the Duke when he realized that Flor was actually a +serf?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. He was so horrified, he was sick."</p> + +<p>"But did you think of the reaction of the townsmen and peasants?"</p> + +<p>"You mean they'd feel the same way?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Most of them did. These people have been ingrained with a firm +belief in their mode of living. They regard it as right and proper. And +the murder and robbery of a noble by a serf is just as serious in the +eyes of serfs and freemen as it is to the nobles. No serf in his right +mind would even think of raising a hand against a noble, not even in +self-defense. Catch?"</p> + +<p>Konar leaned back. "Oh, brother," he murmured. "I can just see what +happened when Flor's real status finally penetrated the minds of his own +men."</p> + +<p>"You're probably right, too. And with no body shield to supplement his +rather awkward swordsmanship, Flor was fresh meat for the first real +fighting man that stood up to him." Meinora shook his head.</p> + +<p>"His was a hopelessly twisted mentality, and there was no possibility of +salvage."</p> + +<p>"I know. They have a few of his type in the wards at Aldebaran." Konar +shrugged hopelessly. "Therapists just fold their hands when they see +'em."</p> + +<p>"They do that. People like Flor are just pure ferocity. Oh, sometimes, +they're cunning, even talented. But there's no higher mentality to +develop—not a trace of empathy. And you can't work with something +that's completely missing. Good thing they are quite rare."</p> + +<p>"I should say so," agreed Konar. "A very good thing." He looked out over +the fields. "His influence lasted for a while, too."</p> + +<p>"It did. He'd conditioned his people to a certain extent. Just as I +expected, it took some time to persuade that gang to stop their +depredations, and it had to be done the hard way. But the merchants were +willing, and that's what it took." Meinora brushed a hand over his hair. +He knew how the rest of this story went——</p> + +<p>"It'll take 'em some time to get used to their new charters, but the +roots of the guilds are formed. And they did some fighting and learned +their powers. It'll take a lot to make 'em go back to the old routine. +The Duke'll never try it, and his successors won't be able to. Anyone +who tries to conquer that bunch of wild-cats'll have a tough job, and +he'll get really hurt. It'll spread, too. Merchants and artisans in the +next duchy'll get the idea. And then the next, and the next. Freedom's a +contagious thing."</p> + +<p>Klion Meinora studied the terrain, then turned back.</p> + +<p>"It's going to be a tough planet for a long time," he said thoughtfully. +"A tough, brawling planet. They'll fight for everything they get, and +sometimes for just the love of fighting. The people who come from here +will be something to deal with. But they'll knock their own rough edges +off. No, they won't be savages."</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Millennium, by Everett B. 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b/24779-page-images/p0047.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d6c32af --- /dev/null +++ b/24779-page-images/p0047.png diff --git a/24779.txt b/24779.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad77ce9 --- /dev/null +++ b/24779.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2813 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Millennium, 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: Millennium + +Author: Everett B. Cole + +Release Date: March 8, 2008 [EBook #24779] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MILLENNIUM *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Geetu Melwani and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber note. + +This etext was produced from Astounding Science Fiction May 1955. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. + + * * * * * + + + + +MILLENNIUM + +BY EVERETT B. COLE + + + _There are devices a high-level culture could produce that simply + don't belong in the hands of incompetents of lower cultural + evolution. The finest, and most civilized of tools can be made a + menace ..._ + + +[Illustration] + + +Illustrated by Freas + + + + +Liewen Konar smiled wryly as he put a battered object on the bench. +"Well, here's another piece recovered. Not worth much, I'd say, but here +it is." + +Obviously, it had once been a precisely fabricated piece of equipment. +But its identity was almost lost. A hole was torn in the side of the +metal box. Knobs were broken away from their shafts. The engraved +legends were scored and worn to illegibility, and the meter was merely a +black void in the panel. Whatever had been mounted at the top had been +broken away, to leave ragged shards. Inside the gaping hole in the case, +tiny, blackened components hung at odd angles. + +Klion Meinora looked at the wreckage and shook his head. + +"I know it's supposed to be what's left of a medium range communicator," +he said, "but I'd never believe it." He poked a finger inside the hole +in the case, pushing a few components aside. Beyond them, a corroded +wheel hung loosely in what had once been precision bearings. + +"Where's the power unit?" + +Konar shook his head. "No trace. Not much left of the viewsphere, +either." + +"Well." Meinora shook his head resignedly. "It's salvage. But we got it +back." He stood back to look at the communicator. "Someone's been +keeping the outside clean, I see." + +Konar nodded. "It was a religious relic," he said. "Found it in an +abbey." He reached into the bag he had placed on the floor. + +"And here's a mental amplifier-communicator, personnel, heavy duty. +Slightly used and somewhat out of adjustment, but complete and +repairable." He withdrew a golden circlet, held it up for a moment, and +carefully laid it on the bench beside the wrecked communicator. Its +metal was dented, but untarnished. + +"Don't want to get rough with it," he explained. "Something might be +loose inside." + +He reached again into the bag. "And a body shield, protector type, model +GS/NO-10C. Again, somewhat used, but repairable. Even has its +nomenclature label." + +"Good enough." Meinora held a hand out and accepted the heavy belt. He +turned it about in his hands, examining the workmanship. Finally, he +looked closely at the long, narrow case mounted on the leather. + +"See they counted this unit fairly well. Must have been using it." + +"Yes, sir. It's operative. The Earl wore it all the time. Guess he kept +up his reputation as a fighter that way. Be pretty hard to nick anyone +with a sword if he had one of these running. And almost any clumsy +leatherhead could slash the other guy up if he didn't have to worry +about self-protection." + +"I know." Meinora nodded quickly. "Seen it done. Anything more turned +up?" + +"One more thing. This hand weapon came from the same abbey I got the +communicator from. I'd say it was pretty hopeless, too." Konar picked a +flame-scarred frame from his bag, then reached in again, to scoop up a +few odd bits of metal. + +"It was in pieces when we picked it up," he explained. "They kept it +clean, but they couldn't get the flame pits out and reassembly was a +little beyond them." + +"Beyond us too, by now." Meinora looked curiously at the object. "Looks +as though a couple of the boys shot it out." + +"Guess they did, sir. Not once, but several times." Konar shrugged. +"Malendes tells me he picked up several like this." He cocked his head +to one side. + +"Say, chief, how many of these things were kicking around on this +unlucky planet?" + +Meinora grimaced. "As far as we can determine, there were ninety-two +operative sets originally issued. Each of the original native operatives +was equipped with a mentacom and a body shield. Each of the eight +operating teams had a communicator and three hand weapons, and the +headquarters group had a flier, three communicators, a field detector +set, and six hand weapons. Makes quite an equipment list." + +"Any tools or maintenance equipment?" + +Meinora shook his head. "Just operator manuals. And those will have +deteriorated long ago. An inspection team was supposed to visit once a +cycle for about fifty cycles, then once each five cycles after that. +They would have taken care of maintenance. This operation was set up +quite a while ago, you know. Operatives get a lot more training now--and +we don't use so many of them." + +"So, something went wrong." Konar looked at the equipment on the bench. +"How?" he asked. "How could it have happened?" + +"Oh, we've got the sequence of events pretty well figured out by now." +Meinora got to his feet. "Of course, it's a virtually impossible +situation--something no one would believe could happen. But it did." He +looked thoughtfully at the ruined communicator. + +"You know the history of the original operation on this planet?" + +"Yes, sir. I looked it over. Planet was checked out by Exploration. They +found a couple of civilizations in stasis and another that was about to +go that way. Left alone, the natives'd have reverted to a primitive +hunter stage--if they didn't go clear back to the caves. And when they +did come up again, they'd have been savage terrors." + +"Right. So a corps of native operatives was set up by Philosophical, to +upset the stasis and hold a core of knowledge till the barbaric period +following the collapse of one of the old empires was over. One +civilization on one continent was chosen, because it was felt that its +impact on the rest of the planet would be adequate to insure progress, +and that any more extensive operation would tend to mold the planetary +culture." + +Konar nodded. "The old, standard procedure. It usually worked better +than this, though. What happened this time?" + +"The Merokian Confederation happened." + +"But their penetration was nowhere near here." + +"No, it wasn't. But they did attack Sector Nine. And they did destroy +the headquarters. You remember that?" + +"Yes, sir. I read about it in school. We lost a lot of people on that +one." Konar frowned. "Long before my time in the Corps, of course, but I +studied up on it. They used some sort of screen that scrambled the +detectors, didn't they?" + +"Something like that. Might have been coupled with someone's +inattention, too. But that's unimportant now. The important thing is +that the sector records were destroyed during the attack." + +"Sure. But how about the permanent files that were forwarded to +Aldebaran depository?" + +Meinora smiled grimly. "Something else that couldn't happen. We're still +looking for traces of that courier ship. I suppose they ran afoul of a +Merokian task force, but there's nothing to go on. They just +disappeared." He picked up the mental communicator, examining the signs +of aging. + +"One by one," he continued, "the case files and property records of +Sector Nine are being reconstructed. Every guardsman even remotely +associated with the Sector before the attack is being interviewed, and a +lot of them are working on the reconstruction. It's been a long job, but +we're nearly done now. This is one of the last planets to be located and +rechecked, and it's been over a period since the last visit they've had +from any of our teams. On this planet, that's some fifty-odd +generations. Evidently the original operatives didn't demolish their +equipment, and fifty some generations of descendants have messed things +up pretty thoroughly." + +Konar looked at the bench. Besides the equipment he had just brought in, +there were other items, all in varying stages of disrepair and ruin. + +"Yes, sir," he agreed. "If this is a sample, and if the social +conditions I've seen since I joined the team are typical, they have. Now +what?" + +"We've been picking up equipment. Piece by piece, we've been accounting +for every one of those items issued. Some of 'em were lost. Some of 'em +probably wore out and were discarded, or were burned--like this, only +more so." Meinora pointed at the wrecked communicator. + +"Local legends tell us about violent explosions, so we know a few +actually discharged. And we've tracked down the place where the flier +cracked up and bit out a hole the size of a barony. Those items are gone +without trace." He sighed. + +"That introduces an uncertainty factor, of course, but the equipment in +the hands of natives, and the stuff just lying around in deserted areas +has to be tracked down. This planet will develop a technology some day, +and we don't want anything about to raise questions and doubts when it +does. The folklore running around now is bad enough. When we get the +equipment back, we've got to clean up the social mess left by the +descendants of those original operatives." + +"Nice job." + +"Very nice. We'll be busy for a long time." Meinora picked up a small +tape reel. "Just got this," he explained. "That's why I was waiting for +you here. It's an account of a mentacom and shield that got away. +Probably stolen about twenty years ago, planetary. We're assigned to +track it down and pick it up." + +He turned to speak to a technician, who was working at another bench. + +"You can have this stuff now. Bring in some more pretty soon." + + * * * * * + +Flor, the beater, was bone weary. The shadows were lengthening, hiding +the details in the thickets, and all the hot day, he had been thrusting +his way through thicket after thicket, in obedience to the instructions +of the foresters. He had struck trees with his short club and had +grunted and squealed, to startle the _khada_ into flight. A few of the +ugly beasts had come out, charging into the open, to be run down and +speared by the nobles. + +And Flor had tired of this hunt, as he had tired of many other hunts in +the past. Hunting the savage _khada_, he thought resentfully, might be +an amusing sport for the nobles. But to a serf, it was hard, +lung-bursting work at best. At worst, it meant agonizing death beneath +trampling hoofs and rending teeth. + +To be sure, there would be meat at the hunting lodge tonight, in plenty, +and after the hunt dinner, he and the other serfs might take bits of the +flesh home to their families. But that would be after the chores in the +scullery were over. It would be many hours before Flor would be able to +stumble homeward. + +He relaxed, to enjoy the short respite he had gained by evading the +forester. Sitting with his back to a small tree, he closed his eyes and +folded his thick arms over his head. Of course, he would soon be found, +and he would have to go back to the hunt. But this forester was a dull, +soft fellow. He could be made to believe Flor's excuse that he had +become lost for a time, and had been searching the woods for the other +beaters. + +The underbrush rustled and Flor heard the sound of disturbed leaves and +heavy footfalls. A hunting charger was approaching, bearing one of the +hunters. Quickly, Flor rose to his feet, sidling farther back into the +thicket. Possibly, he might remain unseen. He peered out through the +leaves. + +The mounted man was old and evidently tired from the long day's hunt. He +swayed a little in his saddle, then recovered and looked about him, +fumbling at his side for his horn. His mount raised its head and beat a +forefoot against the ground. The heavy foot made a deep, thumping noise +and leaves rustled and rose in a small cloud. + +Flor sighed and started forward reluctantly. It was the Earl, himself. +It might be possible to hide from another, but Flor knew better than to +try to conceal his presence from the old nobleman. The Earl could detect +any person in his vicinity, merely by their thoughts, as Flor well knew +from past experience. He also knew how severe the punishment would be if +he failed to present himself immediately. He pushed a branch aside with +a loud rustle. + +Startled by the noise, a _husa_, which had been hiding beneath a nearby +bush, raced into the open. The small animal dashed madly toward the +Earl, slid wildly almost under the charger's feet, and put on a fresh +burst of speed, to disappear into the underbrush. The huge beast +flinched away, then reared wildly, dashing his rider's head against a +tree limb. + +The elderly man slipped in his saddle, reached shakily for his belt, +missed, and lost his seat, to crash heavily to the ground. + +Flor rushed from his thicket. With the shock of the fall, the Earl's +coronet had become dislodged from his head and lay a short distance from +the inert form. Flor picked it up, turning it in his hands and looking +at it. + + * * * * * + +Curiously, he examined the golden circlet, noting the tiny bosses inset +in the band. Many times, he had watched from a dark corner at the +hunting lodge, neglecting his scullery duties, while the Earl showed the +powers of this coronet to his elder son. Sometimes, he had been caught +by the very powers the circlet gave to the old nobleman, and he winced +as he remembered the strong arm of the kitchen master, and the skill +with which he wielded a strap. But on other occasions, the Earl had been +so engrossed in explaining the device as to neglect the presence of the +eavesdropper. + +He had told of the ability given him to read the thoughts of others, and +even to strongly influence their actions. And Flor had gone back to his +labors, to dream of what he would do if he, rather than the Earl, were +the possessor of the powerful talisman. + +And now, he had it in his hands. + +A daring idea occurred to him, and he looked around furtively. He was +alone with the Earl. The old man was breathing stertorously, his mouth +wide open. His face was darkening, and the heavy jowls were becoming +purple. Obviously, he was capable of little violence. + +In sudden decision, Flor knelt beside the body. His hand, holding the +short club above the Earl's throat, trembled uncontrollably. He wanted +to act--had to act now--but his fear made him nauseated and weak. For a +moment, his head seemed to expand and to lighten as he realized the +enormity of his intent. This was one of the great nobles of the land, +not some mere animal. + +The heavily lidded eyes beneath him fluttered, started to open. + +With a sob of effort, Flor dashed his club downward, as though striking +a _husa_. The Earl shivered convulsively, choked raspingly, and was +suddenly limp and still. The labored breathing stopped and his eyes +opened reluctantly, to fix Flor with a blank stare. + +The serf leaped back, then hovered over the body, club poised to strike +again. But the old man was really dead. Flor shook his head. Men, he +thought in sudden contempt, died easily. It was not so with the _husa_, +or the _khada_, who struggled madly for life, often attacking their +killer and wounding him during their last efforts. + +Flor consigned this bit of philosophy to his memory for future use and +set to work removing the heavy belt worn by the Earl. This, he knew, was +another potent talisman, which could guard its wearer from physical harm +when its bosses were pushed. + +The murderer smiled sardonically. It was well for him that the old +nobleman had failed to press those bosses, otherwise this opportunity +probably would never have been presented. He stood up, holding the belt +in his hand. Such a thing as this, he told himself, could make him a +great man. + +He examined the belt, noting the long metal case, with its engraving and +its bosses. At last, he grunted and fastened it about his own waist. He +pressed the bosses, then threw himself against a tree. + +Something slowed his fall, and he seemed to be falling on a soft mat. He +caught his balance and rested against the tree, nodding in satisfaction. +Later, he could experiment further, but now he had other things to do. + +He examined the coronet again, remembering that there was something +about its bosses, too. He looked closely at them, then pressed. One boss +slid a little under his finger and he felt a faint, unfamiliar sense of +awareness. + +He put the coronet on his head and shuddered a little as the awareness +increased to an almost painful intensity. The forest was somehow more +clear to him than it had ever been. He seemed to understand many things +which he had heard or experienced, but which had been vague before. And +memory crowded upon him. He stood still, looking around. + +At the edge of his mind was vague, uneasy wonder, obviously not his own +thought. There was a dim caricature of himself standing over the body of +the Earl. And there was a feeling of the need to do something without +understanding of what was to be done, or why. + +He could remember clearly now, the Earl's explanations of the action of +the coronet. One incident stood out--a time when the old man, having +overindulged in the local wine, had demonstrated his ability to divine +the thoughts of others. Flor twitched a little in painful recollection. +The kitchen master had been especially enthusiastic in his use of the +strap that night. + +The Earl's mount was eying Flor, who realized without knowing just how, +that the vague images and rudimentary thoughts were a reflection of the +beast's mind. He looked over at the thicket into which the little +animal which had started the charger, was hiding. It was still there, +and he could feel a sense of fearful wonder, a desire to be gone, +coupled with a fear of being discovered. + +Again, he looked about the woods. In a way, the _husa_ and he were akin. +It would be bad if he were caught here, too. To be sure, he would be +hard to capture, with his new protection, but many men would hunt him. +And some of them would be other Earls, or possibly some of the great +abbots, who had their own coronets and belts, and possibly other things +of great power. These, he knew, might be too much for him. He slunk into +the thicket, looked down the hill, and decided on a course which would +avoid the paths of the foresters. + +As he walked, he plotted methods of using his new-found powers. He +considered idea after idea--then discarded them and sought further. With +his new awareness, he could see flaws in plans which would have seemed +perfect to him only a few short hours before. + +First, he realized he would have to learn to control his new powers. He +would have to learn the ways of the nobility, their manners and their +customs. And he would have to find a disguise which would allow him to +move about the land. Serfs were too likely to be questioned by the first +passer-by who noticed them. Serfs belonged on the land--part of it! + +He hid in the bushes at the side of a path as a group of free swordsmen +went by. As he watched them, a plan came to him. He examined it +carefully, finally deciding it would do. + + * * * * * + +The man-at-arms sauntered through the forest, swaying a little as he +walked. He sang in a gravelly voice, pausing now and then to remember a +new verse. + +Flor watched him as he approached, allowing the man's thoughts to enter +his own consciousness. They were none too complicated. The man was a +free swordsman, his sword unemployed at the moment. He still had +sufficient money to enjoy the forest houses for a time, then he would +seek service with the Earl of Konewar, who was rumored to be planning a +campaign. + +The man swayed closer, finally noticing Flor. He paused in mid stride, +eying the escaped serf up and down. + +"Now, here's something strange indeed," he mused. He looked closely at +Flor's face. + +"Tell me, my fellow, tell me this: How is it you wear the belt and +coronet of a great noble, and yet have no other garment than the shift +of a serf?" + +As Flor looked at him insolently, he drew his sword. + +"Come," he demanded impatiently, "I must have answer, else I take you to +a provost. Possibly his way of finding your secret would be to your +liking, eh?" + +Flor drew a deep breath and waited. Here was the final test of his new +device. He had experimented, finding that even the charge of a _khada_ +was harmless to him. Now, he would find if a sword could be rendered +harmless. At the approach of the man, he had pressed the boss on his +belt. The man seemed suddenly a little uncertain, so Flor spoke. + +"Why, who are you," he demanded haughtily, "to question the doings of +your betters? Away with you, before I spit you with your own sword." + +The man shook his head, smiling sarcastically. "Hah!" he said, +approaching Flor. "I know that accent. It stinks of the scullery. Tell +me, Serf, where did you steal that----" + +He broke off, climaxing his question with an abrupt swing of the sword. +Then, he fell back in surprise. Flor had thrust a hand out to ward off +the blow, and the sword had been thrown back violently. The rebound tore +it from its amazed owner's hand, and it thudded to the ground. The +man-at-arms looked at it stupidly. + +Flor sprang aside, scooping up the weapon before the man could recover. + +"Now," he cried, "stand quite still. I shall have business with you." + +The expression on the man's face told of something more than mere +surprise which held him quiet. Here was proof of the powers of the +coronet. Flor looked savagely at his captive. + +"Take off your cap." + +Reluctantly, the man's hand came up. He removed his steel cap, holding +it in his hand as he faced his captor. + +"That is fine." Flor pressed his advantage. "Now, your garments. Off +with them!" + +The swordsman was nearly his size. Both of them had the heavy build of +their mountain stock, and the garments of the free swordsman would do +for Flor's purpose, even though they might not fit him perfectly. Who +expected one of these roving soldiers of fortune to be dressed in the +height of style? They were fighters, not models to show off the tailor's +art. + +Flor watched as his prisoner started to disrobe, then pulled off his own +single garment, carefully guiding it through the belt at his waist, so +as not to disturb the talisman's powers. + +He threw the long shirt at the man before him. + +"Here," he ordered. "Put this on." + +He sensed a feeling of deep resentment--of hopeless rebellion. He +repeated his demand, more emphatically. + +"Put it on, I say!" + +As the man stood before him, dressed in the rough shift of a serf, Flor +smiled grimly. + +"And now," he said, "none will worry too much about a mere serf, or look +too closely into his fate. Here." + +He slashed out with the sword, awkwardly, but effectively. + +"I shall have to find a new name," he told himself as he dressed in the +garments of his victim. "No free swordsman would have a name like Flor. +They all have two names." + +He thought of the names he had heard used by the guards of the Earl. +Flor, he thought, could be part of a name. But one of the swordsmen +would make it Floran, or possibly Florel. They would be hunters, or +slayers of elk--not simply elk. He looked at the steel cap in his hands. +An iron hat--_deri kuna_. + +[Illustration] + +"So," he told himself, "I shall be Florel Derikuna." + +He inspected his new garments, being sure they hid the belt, and yet +left the bosses available to easy reach. At last, he put on the iron +cap. It covered the coronet, effectively hiding it. + +Taking up the sword, he replaced it in its scabbard and swaggered +through the forest, imitating the man-at-arms' song. + +At one stroke, he had improved his status infinitely. Now, he could roam +the land unquestioned, so long as he had money. He smiled to himself. +There was money in his scrip, and there would be but slight problems +involved in getting more. Tonight, he would sleep in a forest house, +instead of huddling in a thicket. + + * * * * * + +As the days passed, to grow into weeks and then, months, Florel wandered +over the land. Sometimes, he took service with a captain, who would +engage in a campaign. Sometimes, he took service with one of the lesser +nobility. A few times, he ran with the bands of the forest and road, to +rob travelers. But he was cautious to avoid the great Earls, realizing +the danger of detection. + +Always, he kept his direction to the east, knowing that he would have to +reach the sea and cross to the eastern land before he could feel +completely safe. His store of money and of goods grew, and he hoarded it +against the time when he would use it. + +Sometimes, he posed as a merchant, traveling the land with the caravans. +But always, he followed his path eastward. + + * * * * * + +Florel Derikuna looked back at the line of pack animals. It had been a +long trip, and a hard one. He smiled grimly to himself as he remembered +the last robber attack. For a time, he had thought the caravan guard was +going to be overwhelmed. He might have had to join with the robbers, as +he had done before. And that would have delayed his plans. He looked +ahead again, toward the hill, crowned with its great, stone castle. + +This, then, was the land of the east--the farthest march of the land of +the east. It had taken him a long, cautious time to get here. And he had +spent his days in fear of a searching party from Budorn, even when he +had reached the seacoast itself. But here, he would be safe. None from +this land had ever been even to the mountainous backbone of his own +land, he was sure. And certainly, there would be no travelers who had +guided their steps from here to faraway Budorn and back. + +None here knew Budorn, excepting him. Flor, the serf--now Florel +Derikuna, swordsman at large--was in a new land. And he would take a +new, more useful identity. He looked at the stone buildings of the town +and its castle. + +They were not unlike the castles and towns of his native land, he +thought. There were differences, of course, but only in the small +things. And he had gotten used to those by now. He had even managed to +learn the peculiar language of the country. He smiled again. That +coronet he always wore beneath his steel cap had served him well. It had +more powers than he had dreamed of when he had first held it in his +hands in those distant woods. + +Here in Dweros, he thought, he could complete his change. Here, he could +take service with the Duke as a young man of noble blood, once afflicted +with a restless urge for travel, but now ready to establish himself. By +now, he had learned to act. It had not been for nothing that he had +carefully studied the ways of the nobility. + +The caravan clattered through the gate beneath the castle, twisted +through the streets just beyond the wall, and stopped in the market +place. Derikuna urged his mount ahead and confronted the merchant. + +"Here is my destination," he said. "So, we'll settle up, and I'll be on +my way." + +The merchant looked at him with a certain amount of relief. The man, he +knew, was a tough fighter. His efforts had been largely the cause of the +failure of bandits to capture the caravan only a few days before. But +there was something about him that repelled. He was a man to be feared, +not liked. Somehow, the merchant felt he was well rid of this guard, +despite his demonstrated ability. He reached into his clothing and +produced two bags. + +"We hate to lose you, Derikuna," he dissembled. "Here is your normal +wage." He held out one bag. "And this second purse is a present, in +memory of your gallant defense of the caravan." + +Derikuna smiled sardonically. "Thank you," he said, "and good trading." +He reined away. + +He had caught the semi-fearful thoughts. Well, that was nothing unusual. +Everybody became fearful of the iron hat sooner or later. Here, they +would learn to respect him, too. Though their respect would be for a +different name. Nor would they be able to deny him aught. They might not +like him. That, he had no interest in. They'd do his will. And they'd +never forget him. + +He rode to an inn, where he ordered food and lodging. His meal over, he +saw to his beasts, then had a servant take his baggage to his room. + + * * * * * + +Shortly after daybreak, he awoke. He blinked at the light, stirred +restlessly, and got out of bed. Rubbing his eyes, he walked to the other +side of the room. + +For a few minutes, he looked at the trough in the floor and the water +bucket standing near it. At last, he shrugged and started splashing +water over himself. This morning, he spent more time than usual, being +sure that no vestige of beard was left on his face, and that he was +perfectly clean. He completed his bath by dashing perfumed water over +his entire body. + +He opened his traveling chest, picking out clothing he had worn but few +times, and those in private. At last, he examined his reflection in a +mirror, and nodded in satisfaction. + +"Truly," he told himself, "a fine example of western nobility." + +He picked out a few expensive ornaments from his chest, then locked it +again and left the inn. + +He guided his mount through the narrow streets to the castle gate, where +he confronted a sleepy, heavily-armed sentry. + +"Send word to the castle steward," he ordered, throwing his riding cloak +back, "that Florel, younger son of the Earl of Konewar, would pay his +respects to your master, the Duke of Dwerostel." + +The man eyed him for a moment, then straightened and grounded his pike +with a crash. + +"It shall be done, sir." He turned and struck a gong. + +A guard officer came through the tunnel under the wall. For a moment, he +looked doubtful, then he spoke respectfully and ushered Derikuna through +the inner court to a small apartment, where he turned him over to a +steward. + +"You wish audience with His Excellency?" + +"I do, My Man. I wish to pay him my respects, and those of my father, +the Earl of Konewar." Derikuna looked haughtily at the man. + +Like the guard officer, the steward seemed doubtful. For a few seconds, +he seemed about to demur. Then, he bowed respectfully. + +"Very well, sir." With a final, curious glance at the coronet which +shone in Florel's hair, the steward clapped his hands. A page hurried +into the room and bowed. + +"Your orders, sir?" + +"We have a noble guest. Bring refreshment, at once." The steward waved +to a table. "If Your Honor will wait here?" + +Florel inclined his head, strode to a chair, and sat down. He looked +amusedly after the disappearing steward. The coronet of the old Earl, he +thought, was a truly potent talisman. Even the disdainful stewards of +castles bowed to its force. And, thought the impostor, so would his +master--when the time came. + + * * * * * + +The page reappeared with a flagon of wine and some cakes. Florel was +sampling them when the steward returned. The man bowed respectfully, +waited for Florel to finish his wine, and led the way through a corridor +to a heavy pair of doors, which he swung open. + +"Florel, Son of Konewar," he announced ceremoniously. + +The Duke flipped a bone to one of his dogs, shoved his plate aside, and +looked up. Florel walked forward a few paces, stopped, and bowed low. + +"Your Excellency." + +As he straightened, he realized that he was the object of an intense +scrutiny. At last, the Duke nodded. + +"We had no notice of your coming." + +Florel smiled. "I have been traveling alone, Excellency, and incognito. +For some years, I have been wandering, to satisfy my desire to see the +world." He glanced down at his clothing. + +"I arrived in your town last evening, and delayed only to make myself +presentable before appearing to pay my respects." + +"Very good. Punctuality in meeting social obligations is a mark of good +breeding." The Duke eyed Florel's costume. + +"Tell me, young man, do all your nobility affect the insignia you wear?" + +Florel's hand rose to his coronet. "Only members of the older families, +Excellency." + +"I see." The nobleman nodded thoughtfully. "We have heard rumors of your +fashions in dress, though no member of any of the great families of +your realm has ever come so far before. We are somewhat isolated here." +He looked sharply at the younger man. + +"Rumor also has it that this is more than mere insignia you wear. I have +heard it said that your ornaments give more than mortal powers to their +wearer. Is this true?" + +Florel hesitated for an instant, then recognized the desired response. +Of course this eastern noble would not welcome the thought that there +were others who had greater powers than he. And he would certainly +resent any suggestions that a young visitor to his court had such +powers. + +"Oh, that," he said easily. "Legends, really. The truth is that the +wearing of the coronet and belt is restricted to members of the older, +more honorable families. And even these must prove their ability at arms +and statecraft before being invested with the insignia. Too, knowledge +of long lineage and gentle birth makes a man more bold--possibly even +more skillful than the average." He smiled ingratiatingly. + +"You, yourself, recognize your own superiority in all ways over your +retainers, your vassals, and your townspeople. And so are we above the +common man. This insignia is but the outward symbol of that +superiority." + +The Duke nodded, satisfied. He waved a hand. + +"Sit down, young man. You must remain at our court for a time. We are +hungry for news of the distant lands." + +Florel congratulated himself. Well embellished gossip, he had found, was +a popular form of entertainment in camp and court alike, and his store +of gossip was large and carefully gathered. Here at Dweros, far from the +center of the kingdom, his store of tales would last for a long +time--probably as long as he needed. + +During the days and nights that followed, he exerted himself to gain the +favor of the Duke and his household. Much of his time, he spent +entertaining others with his tales. But he kept his own ears and eyes +open. He became a constant visitor at the castle, finally being offered +the use of one of the small apartments, which he graciously accepted. +And, of course, he was invited to join the hunts. + +Hunting, he discovered, could be a pleasant pastime--so long as it was +another who was doing the hard work of beating. And his own experience +as a beater proved valuable. He was familiar with the ways and the +haunts of animals. What had once been a matter of survival became a road +to acclaim. He was known before long as a skillful, daring hunter. + + * * * * * + +At length, he decided the time was right to talk to the Duke of more +serious things. The duchy was at the very border of the kingdom. To the +north lay territory occupied only by barbaric tribes, who frequently +descended on the northern baronies, to rob travelers of their goods, or +to loot villages. Having secured their loot, the tribesmen retreated to +their mountains before a fighting force could come up with them. + +Florel came upon the Duke while he was considering the news of one of +these raids. + +"Your Excellency, these border raids could be halted. A strong hand is +all that is needed, at the right place. A determined knight, established +on the Menstal, could command the river crossing and the pass, thus +preventing either entry or exit." + +"To be sure." The Duke sighed wearily. "But the mountains of Menstal are +inhospitable. Knights have occupied the heights, protecting the border +for a time, to be sure, but the land has always escheated to the duchy. +A small watchtower is kept manned even now, but it's a hungry land, and +one which would drain even a baron's funds. I have no knight who wants +it." + +Florel smiled. He had plans concerning the Menstal, and the great river, +the Nalen, which raced between high cliffs. + +"The merchants, who use the Nalen for their shipments, would welcome +protection from the robber bands, I think, as would the travelers of the +roads." + +"And?" The Duke looked at him thoughtfully. + +"Possibly a small tax?" Florel smiled deprecatingly. "Sufficient to +maintain a garrison?" + +"And who would collect the tax?" + +"That, Excellency, I could arrange. I have funds, adequate to garrison +the tower of the Menstal, and even to make it livable for a considerable +force of men. And I believe I could maintain and increase a garrison +there that would serve to hold the barbarians at bay." + +"Let me think this over." The Duke sat back, toying with his cup. "It is +true," he mused, "that Menstal is the key to the border. And the small +garrison there has proved expensive and ineffective." He tapped the cup +on the table, then set it down and looked about the apartment. Finally, +he looked up at Florel. + +"You have our permission to try your scheme," he decided. "We will +invest you with the barony of Menstal." + + * * * * * + +Konar paused at the castle gate. It had been pure chance, he knew, that +they had noticed this bit of equipment. The east coast earldom was +known, of course, but somehow, searchers had failed to discover that the +Earl held any equipment. Konar shrugged. He probably hadn't inherited +it, but had gotten it by chance, and his possession of the mentacom and +shield weren't commonly known. + +"Well," he told himself, "we know about it now. I'll make a routine +pickup, and he won't have it any more." + +A pair of weary sentries stood just inside the heavy doors. One shifted +his weight, to lean partially on his pike, partially against the +stonework. Idly, he looked out at the road which led through the +village, staring directly through the place where Konar stood. + +Konar smiled to himself. "Good thing I've got my body shield modulated +for full refraction," he told himself. "He'd be a little startled if he +should see me." + +The sentry yawned and relaxed still more, sliding down a little, till he +sat on a slightly protruding stone. His companion looked over at him. + +"Old Marnio sees you like that," he muttered warningly, "makes lashes." + +The other yawned again. "No matter. He'll be drowsing inside, where it's +warm. Be a long time before he comes out to relieve." + +Konar nodded amusedly. The castle guard, he gathered, was a little less +than perfectly alert. This would be simple. He touched the controls of +his body shield to raise himself a few inches above the cobblestones, +and floated between the two sentries, going slowly to avoid making a +breeze. + +Once inside, he decided to waste no more time. Of course, he would have +to wait inside the Earl's sleeping room till the man slept, but there +was no point in waiting out here. He passed rapidly through the outer +ward, ignoring the serfs and retainers who walked between the dwellings +nestled against the wall. + +The inner gate had been closed for the night, so he lifted and went over +the wall. + +He looked around, deciding that the Earl's living quarters would be in +the wooden building at the head of the inner courtyard. As he +approached, he frowned. The windows were tightly closed against the +night air. He would have to enter through the doors, and a young squire +blocked that way. The lad was talking to a girl. + +There was nothing to do but wait, so Konar poised himself a few feet +from them. They'd go inside eventually, and he would float in after +them. Then, he could wait until the Earl was asleep. + +After that, it would be a simple, practiced routine. The small hand +weapon he carried would render the obsolete body shield ineffective, if +necessary, and a light charge would assure that the man wouldn't awaken. +It would be the work of a few minutes to remove the equipment the man +had, to substitute the purely ornamental insignia, and to sweep out of +the room, closing the window after him. Konar hoped it would stay +closed. The Earl might be annoyed if it flew open, to expose him to the +dreaded night air. + +In the morning, the Earl would waken, innocent of any knowledge of his +visitor. He would assume his talismans had simply lost their powers due +to some occult reason, as many others had during recent times. + +Idly, Konar listened to the conversation of the two before him. + + * * * * * + +The squire was telling the girl of his prowess in the hunt. Tomorrow, he +announced, he would accompany the Earl's honored guest from the eastern +land. + +"And I'm the one that can show him the best coverts," he boasted. "His +Grace did well to assign me to the Duke." + +The girl lifted her chin disdainfully. "Since you're such a great +hunter," she told him, "perchance you could find my brooch, which I lost +in yonder garden." She turned to point at the flower-bordered patch of +berry bushes at the other end of the court. In so doing, she faced +directly toward Konar. + +She was a pretty girl, he thought. His respect for the young squire's +judgment grew. Any man would admire the slender, well featured face +which was framed within a soft cloud of dark, well combed hair. She +looked quite different from the usual girls one saw in this country. +Possibly, she was of eastern descent, Konar thought. + +The girl's eyes widened and her mouth flew open, making her face +grotesquely gaunt. Abruptly, she was most unpretty. For a few +heartbeats, she stood rigidly, staring at Konar. Then she put her hands +to her face, her fingers making a rumpled mess of her hair. Her eyes, +fixed and with staring pupils, peered between her fingers. And she +screamed. + +Konar felt suddenly faint, as though the girl's horror was somehow +communicated to him. The scream reverberated through his brain, rising +in an intolerable crescendo, blotting out other sensory perception. He +fought to regain control of his fading senses, but the castle court +blurred and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. He started +sliding down an endless, dark chute, ending in impenetrable blackness. + + * * * * * + +Suddenly, the black dissolved into a flash of unbearably brilliant +light, and Konar's eyes closed tightly. + +He was alertly conscious again, but his head ached, and he felt +reluctant, even unable, to open his eyes. Even closed, they ached from +the brilliant spots which snapped into being before them. He shuddered, +bringing his head down to his breast, gripping it with shaking hands, +and breathing with uneven effort. + +This was like nothing he had ever met before. He would have to get back +to the others--find out what had happened to him--get help. + +He concentrated on his eyelids, forcing them open. A crowd was +gathering, to look accusingly at the squire, who supported the fainting +girl in his arms. Her eyes fluttered weakly, and she struggled to regain +her feet. + +"That awful thing! It's right over there!" She pointed at Konar. + +Again, the unbearable ululation swept through his mind. Convulsively, he +swept his hand to his shield controls, fighting to remain conscious just +long enough to set his course up and away. + +Before he was able to move and think with anything approaching +normality, he was far above the earth. He looked at the tiny castle far +below, noticing that from his altitude, it looked like some child's toy, +set on a sand hill, with bits of moss strewed about to make a realistic +picture. He shivered. His head still ached dully, and he could still +hear echoes of the horrified screaming. + +"I don't know what it was," he told himself, "but I hope I never run +into anything like that again." + +He located the hill which concealed the flier, and dropped rapidly +toward it. + +As he entered, the pilot noticed him. + +"Well, that was a quick mission," he commented. "How'd you----" He +looked at Konar's pain-lined face. "Hey, what's the matter, youngster? +You look like the last end of a bad week." + +Konar tried to smile, but it didn't work very well. + +"I ran into something, Barskor," he said. "Didn't complete my mission. I +don't know what happened, but I hope it never happens again." + +Barskor looked at him curiously, then turned. "Chief," he called, +"something's gone wrong. Konar's been hurt." + + * * * * * + +Meinora listened to Konar's story, then shook his head unhappily. + +"You ran into a transvisor, I'm afraid. We didn't think there were any +on this planet." He paused. "There were definitely none discovered to +the west, and we looked for them. But now, we're close to the east +coast, and you said that girl looked eastern. The eastern continent may +be loaded with 'em." + +Konar looked curious. "A transvisor? I never heard of them." + +"They're rather rare. You only find them under special conditions, and +those conditions, we thought, are absent here. But when you find one, +you can be sure there are more. It runs in families. You see, they're +beings with a completely wild talent. They can be any age, any species, +or of any intelligence, but they're nearly always female. Visibility +refraction just doesn't work right for their senses, and they can cause +trouble." He looked closely at Konar. + +"You were lucky to get away. A really terrified transvisor could kill +you, just as surely as a heavy caliber blaster." + +Konar shivered. "I believe it. But why are they called 'transvisors'?" + +"The name's somewhat descriptive, even if it is incomplete. As I said, +visibility refraction doesn't work right in their case. Somehow, they +pick up visual sensation right through a screen, regardless of its +adjustment. But things seen through a screen are distorted, and look +abnormal to them. Unless they're used to it, they get frightened when +they see a person with a refracted body shield. That's when the trouble +starts." + +Konar nodded in understanding. "You mean, they transmit their fear?" + +"They do. And they'll shock excite a mentacom, completely distorting its +wave pattern. If they remain conscious and scared, their fear is deadly +to its object." Meinora drew a deep breath. + +"As I said, you were lucky. The girl fainted and let you get away." He +shrugged and turned to Barskor. + +"We'll have to change our mode of operation," he added. "We'll pick up +the Earl's mentacom and belt at the hunt tomorrow. Find him alone, +knock him out with a paralyzer, and give him parahypnosis afterward. +It's not so good, but it's effective. But be sure you are alone, and +don't try to use visual refraction under any circumstance. Be better to +be seen, if it comes to that. There might be another transvisor around." +He kicked gently at the seat beside him. + +"This was just a secondary job, done in passing," he said, "but it's a +good thing we found this out when we did. It'll change our whole primary +plan. Now, we'll have to slog it out the hard way. On no account can +anyone refract. It might be suicide. We'll have to talk to travelers. We +want to know what abnormal or unusual developments have taken place in +what country in the last twenty years. Then, we'll have to check them +out. We've got a lot of work to do." He looked around. "Ciernar." + +"Yes, sir?" The communications operator looked up. + +"Send in a report on this to Group. Make it 'operational.'" + +[Illustration] + +Konar tilted his head a little. "Say, chief, you said the transvisor's +fear was amplified by my mentacom. What if I wasn't wearing one?" + +"You wouldn't feel a thing," Meinora smiled. "But don't get any ideas. +Without amplification, you couldn't control your shield properly. You'd +have protection, but your refraction control's entirely mental, and +levitation direction depends on mental, not physical control, remember?" + +"But how about you? You don't use amplification. Neither do several of +the other team chiefs." + +Meinora shrugged. "No," he admitted, "we don't need it, except in +abnormal circumstances. But we don't go around scaring transvisors. They +can't kill us, but they can make us pretty sick. You see we're a little +sensitive in some ways." He shook his head. "No, the only advantage I've +got is that I can spot a transvisor by her mental pattern--if I get +close enough. There's a little side radiation that can be detected, +though it won't pass an amplifier. When you've felt it once, you'll +never forget it. Makes you uncomfortable." He smiled wryly. + +"And you can believe me," he added, "when I do get close to a +transvisor, I'm very, very careful not to frighten her." + + * * * * * + +Winter passed, and spring, and summer came. Nal Gerda, Officer of the +Guard, stood on the small wharf below the old watchtower. He looked +across the narrows, examined the cliff opposite him, then looked upward +at the luminous sky. There were a few small clouds, whose fleecy +whiteness accentuated the clear blue about them. Brilliant sunshine +bathed the wharf and tower, driving away the night mists. + +It would not be long before the new guard came down the cliff. Gerda +stretched and drew a deep breath, savoring the summer morning air. Now, +it was pleasant, a happy contrast to the sullen skies and biting winter +winds he had faced a few short months ago. + +For a time, he looked at the green atop the cliffs, then he transferred +his attention upriver, toward the bend where the Nalen came out of the +pass to blow between the iron cliffs of Menstal. The water flowed +swiftly in the narrows, throwing off white glints as its ripples caught +the sunlight, then deepening to a dark blue where it came into the +shadow of the cliffs. + +A sudden call sounded from the lookout far above, and the officer +wheeled about, looking to the great chain which stretched from tower to +cliff, to block river traffic. It was in proper position, and Gerda +looked back at the bend. + +As he watched, a long, low barge drifted into sight, picking up speed as +it came into the rapid current. Polemen balanced themselves alertly in +the bow, their long sticks poised to deflect their course from any +threatening rocks. + +Gerda threw off the almost poetical admiration of beauty that had +possessed him a moment before and faced the guard house, from whence +came a scuffle of feet and the clank of arms, to tell of the guard's +readiness. + +"Turn out the Guard." Gerda drew himself up into a commanding pose. + +A group of men-at-arms marched stiffly out, followed by a pair of serfs. +The leader saluted Gerda with upraised hand. + +"The Guard is ready, My Captain," he proclaimed. "May the tax be rich." + +Gerda returned the salute. "It will be," he stated positively. "These +merchants have learned by now that to insult Portal Menstal with poor +offerings is unwise in the extreme. And, mark me, they'll not forget!" + +The barge approached and swung in toward the wharf in obedience to +Gerda's imperious gesture. One of the polemen jumped ashore, securing a +line to a bollard. + +The steersman climbed to the dock, to halt a pace in front of Gerda. He +folded his hands and bowed his head submissively. + +"Does Your Honor desire to inspect the cargo?" + +"Of course." Gerda's haughty glance appraised the man from toe to crown. +"Quickly now. I've little time to waste." He glanced back at his clerk, +who had a tablet ready. + +"Your name, Merchant?" + +"Teron, of Krongert, may it please you, sir. I have been to----" + +Gerda waved an impatient hand. "Save me your speech, Higgler," he said +curtly. "What's your cargo value?" + +"Six thousand teloa, Your Honor. We have----" + +"Unload it. I'll look at it." Gerda waved the man to silence. + + * * * * * + +As the bales of goods were placed on the wharf, Gerda examined them +critically. A few, he ordered set aside after a quick check and a few +questions. Others, he ordered opened and spread out. At last, satisfied +with his estimate of the cargo's valuation, he turned. + +"Your choice, Merchant?" + +"I would pay, Your Honor," said the man, "to the tenth part of my +cargo." He extended a leather bag. + +"Don't haggle with me," snapped Gerda. "The tax is a fifth of your +cargo, as you should well know." His hand sought his sword hilt. + +The merchant's face fell a little, and he produced a second bag, which +he held out to the officer. "I must apologize," he said. "I am new to +this land." + +"See that you learn its customs quickly, then." Gerda handed the bags to +his clerk. + +"Check these, Lor," he ordered. "I make it a thousand, six hundred +teloa." + +An expression of dismay crossed the merchant's face. + +"Your Honor," he wailed, "my cargo is of but six thousand valuation. I +swear it." + +Gerda stepped forward swiftly. His hand raised, to swing in a violent, +back-handed arc, his heavy rings furrowing the merchant's face. The man +staggered back, involuntarily raising a hand to his injured cheek. + +As a couple of the men-at-arms raised their pikes to the ready, the +merchant righted himself, folded his hands again, and bowed in +obeisance. Blood trickled down his chin, a drop spattering on his +clothing. He ignored it. + +"You would dispute my judgment?" Gerda drew his hand up for a second +blow. "Here is no market place for your sharp bargaining. For your +insolence, another five hundred teloa will be exacted. Make speed!" + +The merchant shook his head dazedly, but offered no word of protest. +Silently, he dug into his possessions, to produce a third bag. For a +moment, he weighed it in his hand, then reached into it, to remove a few +loose coins. Without raising his head, he extended the bag to the +officer of the guard. + +Gerda turned. Lor had gone into the guard house, to count the other two +bags. The officer raised his voice. + +"Lor, get back out here. I've more for you to count." + +He tossed the bag to the clerk, then stood, glaring at the unfortunate +trader. At last, he kicked the nearest bale. + +"Well," he growled, "get this stuff off the wharf. What are you waiting +for?" + +He watched the barge crew load, then turned. Lor came from the guard +house. + +"All is in order, My Captain." + +"Very well." Gerda looked at him approvingly. Then, he swung to the +merchant, fixing him with a stern glare. + +"We shall make note of your name, Merchant. See thou that you make +honest and accurate valuation in the future. Another time, we shall not +be so lenient. The dungeon of Menstal is no pleasant place." + +He watched till the last of the bargeload was stowed, then nodded +curtly. + +"You may shove off," he said. He turned his head toward the tower. + +"Down chain," he ordered loudly. + + * * * * * + +The windlass creaked protestingly and the heavy chain dropped slowly +into the river. The barge steered to the center of the channel, +gathering speed as it passed over the lowered chain. + +When the barge had cleared, serfs inside the tower strained at the +windlass in obedience to the commands of their overseer, and the chain +rose jerkily, to regain its former position across the stream. + +Gerda watched for a moment, then strode toward the guard house. He went +inside, to look at the bags of coin on the counting table. + +"Cattle," he growled, "to think they could cheat the Baron Bel Menstal +of his just tax." + +He stepped back out for a moment, to watch the merchant barge enter the +rapids beyond the chain. Then, he swung about and re-entered the tower. + +Inside, he sat down at his counting table. He opened the bags, spilling +their contents out on the boards, and checked their count. + +There were forty-eight over. + +He turned to his clerk. + +"What was your count, Lor?" + +"Two thousand, one hundred, sir, and forty-eight." + +"Very good." Gerda smiled a little. "For once in his thieving life, the +merchant was anxious to give full weight." + +Lor spread his hands. "He'll get it back, and more, at Orieano, sir." + +"Oh, to be sure." Gerda shrugged indifferently as he scooped the coins +back into the bags. He chose three small scraps of wood, scrawled tally +marks on them, and went over to a heavy chest. + +Taking a key from his belt, he unlocked the chest and raised its lid. He +looked at the bags lying within, then tossed the new ones on top of +them. As he locked the chest again, he saw Lor go to his account board, +to enter the new collection. + +The Officer of the Guard straightened, stretched for a moment, then +glanced critically in at the windlass room. The serfs had secured the +windlass and racked their poles. Now, they were sitting, hunched against +the wall, staring vacantly, in the manner of serfs. The guardroom, its +commander noted, was properly clean. He shrugged and walked out again to +the wharf. Once more, he looked at the iron cliffs opposite him, then +glanced downriver. The merchant barge had disappeared. + + * * * * * + +Beyond Menstal, the cliffs closed in still farther, to become more +rugged and to form a narrow gorge. Between them, the Nalen took a +tortuous course, turbulently fighting its way over the rocks. +Eventually, it would drop into the lowlands, to become a broad, placid +river, lowing quietly under the sunshine to water the fields of Orolies. +But during its passage through the mountains, it would remain a dark, +brawling torrent. + +The merchant barge swept through the rapids just beyond Menstal, her +polemen deftly preventing disaster against the rocks. At last, as the +gorge became a little wider, the steersman guided his course toward a +small beach beneath the cliffs. With his free hand, he thoughtfully +rubbed his injured cheek. + +As the boat's keel grated against gravel, he shook his head and stepped +forward. For a moment, he fumbled under a thwart, then he brought out a +small case. + +"Konar," he called, "fix this thing up for me, will you?" He opened the +case and laid it on the thwart. + +One of the polemen laid his stick down and came aft. + +"Pretty nasty clip, wasn't it, sir?" + +Meinora grinned. "Guy's got a heavy hand, all right," he admitted. "Made +me dizzy for a second. Almost got mad at him." + +Konar raised an eyebrow. "I felt it," he said. "Good thing Ciernar and I +backed you up a little. Wouldn't help us much to knock out the baron's +river detachment right now, would it?" He reached into the case. + +"Looks as though the merchants weren't exaggerating, if you ask me," he +added. He approached Meinora, a small swab in his hand. + +"Hold still, sir," he instructed. "This'll sting for a few seconds." He +dabbed at the cut cheek, then reached back into the case for an +instrument. + +"Ouch!" Meinora winced. "Did you have to use that stuff full strength? +After all, I can wait a couple of hours for it to heal." He shook his +head as his companion turned back toward him, then dashed involuntary +tears from his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision. + +"No," he added, "the merchants aren't exaggerating a bit on this one. +Bel Menstal's a pretty rough customer, and he keeps rough boys. Now, +we'll see whether he's the guy we've been looking for, the guy with our +equipment." + +Konar focused the small instrument on his superior's face, passing it +along the line of the jagged cut. "You didn't explain that part." + +"Simple enough." Meinora grinned wolfishly. "Those coins were a +Vadris-Kendar alloy. Now that they're out of their force field, they'll +start to sublimate. In a couple of hours or so, they'll be gone, and +someone will be asking a lot of questions. Set up the detectors. If the +baron is the boy we think he is, we should be getting a fairly strong +reading shortly after that guard's relieved." + + * * * * * + +From somewhere atop the cliff, a bell tolled. The hoarse voice of the +lookout drifted down to the wharf. + +"Relieve the guard." + +Nal Gerda looked up. A line of men were coming down the steep path, +stepping cautiously as they wound about the sharp turns. Gerda nodded +and walked back into the guard room. + +"Draw up your guard," he ordered. + +He beckoned to two of the serfs. + +"Take the chest," he directed, "and stay close in front of me." + +Herding the bearers before him, he went out to the wharf. His guard was +drawn up in their proper station, facing upstream, so that they could +view both the steps from the cliff and the river. No traffic was in +sight in the long gorge. + +The new guard came slowly down the trail, formed at the foot of the +steps, and marched to the tower portal. Their commander dressed their +ranks, motioned to his clerk, and came forward, saluting as he +approached Gerda. + +"Anything unusual?" + +"Nothing," Gerda told him. "Seven barges, this watch. Traders are +gathering for the fair at Orieano." + +"I know," the other agreed. "We'll have rich collections for the rest of +the summer, what with fairs all down the valley. You'll be going to the +Orieano Fair?" + +"Got my permission yesterday. I'm to ride with the Baron. Have to give +the merchants back part of their money, you know." + +"Yes, I suppose so." The other grinned, then sobered. "I'll relieve you, +sir." + +"Very good." Gerda saluted, then turned. + +"March off the old guard," he ordered. + +The men started up the steps. Gerda followed the serfs with the money +chest, bringing up to the rear. + +Slowly, they toiled their way up the trail, halting at the halfway point +for a brief rest. At last, they were at the top of the cliff. Before +them, the castle gate opened. Within the tunnellike passage through the +wall, two sentries grounded their pikes. + +Gerda nodded to his clerk, accepted the account tablet, and followed his +serfs, who still bore the money chest, into the castle. + +Inside the main counting room, his bearers set the chest on a large +table. The castle steward came toward them. + +"And how were collections?" + +"Reasonably good, sir. Seven barges came through during the night, with +good cargoes." Gerda held out the tablet. + +The steward looked at it, checking off the entries. "Meron, of +Vandor--Yes, he would have about that. And Borowa? A thousand?" He +nodded thoughtfully. "That seems about right for him." He tapped the +tablet a few times, squinting at the last name on the list. "But who is +this Teron? I never heard of him. Must have had a rich cargo, too." + +Gerda laughed shortly. "He's a new one to me. He tried to get away with +a tenth, then protested the valuation. I fined him an extra five +hundred." + +"Oho!" The steward smiled thinly. "What then?" + +Gerda shook his head. "Oh, he was suddenly so anxious to pay the right +amount, he gave me forty-eight teloa overweight. I'll know him next time +I see him, I'm sure. I marked him well for receipt." + +He inspected his knuckles reflectively, then took the key from his belt +and opened the chest. + +"You'll want to verify my count, of course?" + +"Oh, yes. Yes, to be sure. Have to be certain, you know. And there's +your share of the fine and overpayment to be taken care of." The steward +reached into the chest, removing bags which clinked as they were dropped +to the table. He stopped, to look into the chest with a puzzled +expression on his face. + +"And what are these?" He reached in, to withdraw three obviously empty +bags. He looked curiously at the thongs which tied their mouths, then +shook them and looked questioningly at Gerda. + +"Why, I ... I don't know." Gerda looked incredulously at the bags. +"Certainly, I had no extra money bags." + +"I should think not." The steward frowned, then beckoned behind him. Two +heavily armed guards approached. + +"We'll have to examine into this." + +As the guards came close to Gerda, the steward looked closely at the +bags on the table, then picked one up, opening it. + +"Borowa," he muttered after looking inside and comparing the tally chip +with the count tablet. He weighed the bag in his hand. "Yes, it seems to +be about right. Certainly not overweight." He picked up another, then +still another. At last, he looked up. + +"Of course, I shall have to count all of these carefully," he remarked +grimly, "but I see no coin from this Teron you have listed." He stared +coldly at Gerda. "And the tower lookout confirms that you had seven +barges. That was a considerable amount. What did you do with that +money?" + +"Why, I counted it. It was all there." Gerda shook his head +unbelievingly. "My count agreed with that of my clerk, and I dropped +tallies in and closed the bags again." He looked uneasily at the two +guards who flanked him. "Surely, you don't think I'd be so foolish as to +tamper with the Baron's taxes? Think, man! I know the Baron's ways!" + +"I'm not sure just what I think--yet." The steward shook his head. He +picked up one of the empty bags, opened it, and gave it a shake. The +small tally chip fell out and he picked it up, comparing it with the +list on the tablet. Frowning thoughtfully, he opened the other two bags. +More small blocks of wood fell out. He looked at the bags, then tossed +them aside and looked coldly at the guard officer. + +"It's witchcraft," cried Gerda. "I had nothing----" + +"We'll see." The steward motioned at the two guards. "Search this man." + + * * * * * + +Dazedly, Gerda stood still, submitting as one of the guards went through +his clothing while the other stood ready to deal with any resistance. +The searcher made a thorough examination of Gerda's clothing, muttered +to himself, and went over his search again. A pile of personal objects +lay on the table when he had finished. At last, he looked at the +prisoner, then faced his chief. + +"He has nothing on him, sir, not even a teloa." + +"So I see." The steward frowned, then looked at Gerda. + +"You may reclaim your possessions now, captain. Is there any chance that +your clerk might have opened the money chest?" + +Gerda shook his head. "I don't see how he could, sir, unless he had a +duplicate key, and that's hardly possible. I kept the chest locked at +all times, and the key never left my person." + +"And there is no chance that any of your men could have hidden anything +on the way here?" + +Again, Gerda shook his head. "None," he said positively. "I was behind +them all the way, and would have seen if any had made any unusual +motion." + +"Very well." The steward clapped his hands sharply. + +There was a clatter of arms, followed by the scuffle of feet. Across the +room, a door opened and a detachment of the castle guard filed in. +Their leader stepped forward, saluting the steward. + +"There is a river watch outside," he was told. "Disarm them, take them +to a cell, and search them thoroughly. A considerable amount of coin has +been stolen. Report to me when you have finished." + +"Yes, sir." The group filed out. + +The steward turned to Gerda again. + +"This matter must be examined carefully," he declared. "You may have +been the victim of witchcraft, of course, though I doubt it, never +having witnessed such a thing. Or one of your men may have worked out a +cunning method of theft, an occurrence which I have witnessed many +times. Or, there's the other possibility." He stroked his chin. "After +all, you were the rearmost man, and the one none other would observe." + +Gerda looked at him fearfully. + +"This may become a matter for the Baron's personal attention," continued +the steward. He looked sharply at Gerda. "How long have you been in the +Baron's service?" + +"Why, you know that, sir. Ten years, ever since I----" + +"Yes, yes, I remember. And you know how hopeless it is to try to deceive +the Baron?" + +"Yes, sir." Gerda swallowed painfully. + +"But you still insist you had nothing to do with the disappearance of +this money?" + +Gerda spread his hands. "I can't understand it, sir. But I had nothing +to do with it myself. As I told you, we collected it, listed it, counted +it, and I put it in the chest and locked it up." He shook his head +again. "It's witchcraft, sir." + +The steward leaned back, a slight smile playing about his lips. + +"Witchcraft is good enough for serfs," he said smoothly, "but you and I +are intelligent men. We have had collection money disappear before, many +times. Almost always, there has been the cry, 'It's witchcraft!' And +always there has been a more simple, worldly explanation." He snapped +his lingers and a page hurried forward. + +"A cup of wine," ordered the steward. "This questioning is thirsty +work." He faced back to Gerda. + +"Always," he repeated, "some explanation has been forthcoming. Usually, +I have discovered the errant one--with the help of my guards, of course. +And the criminal has been duly punished. But there have been some few +occasions when the malefactor was so clever as to force the Baron's +intervention." He paused, leaning forward a little. + +"And do you know what happened then?" + +Gerda's throat was becoming dry. His mouth opened, but he closed it +again. + +The page returned, bearing a large cup and a flagon of wine. Carefully, +he filled the cup, then set it before the steward, who lifted it to his +lips, drank, and set it down with a satisfied sigh. + +"Thank you, boy. Here is one thing we can produce well in these +mountains." He wiped his lips and turned his gaze to Gerda again. He +shook his head slowly. + +"The Baron can detect guilt or innocence in a moment. For a short time, +he questioned the persons brought before him. He soon determined the +guilty ones, and wrung confessions from their wretched lips. We then +took them away, and turned them over to the torturers." He raised the +cup again. + +"You know," he added, "I'm told that some of them lasted as long as ten +full days." He shook his head. "I could never understand how the +executioners can put up with such noise for so long. But then, I suppose +one gets used to most anything." + +He looked toward the door. "Strange," he murmured, "I wonder what's +keeping Maro so long." He clapped his hands sharply once more, and +waited. + +The page dashed to a door and disappeared within. At last, he came back, +holding the door for the leader of the castle guard detachment, who came +forward to salute his superior. + +"Have you found anything yet?" + +"Nothing, sir. We have stripped them, but they have no unusual things +about them. And we have questioned them. None will admit to seeing or +doing anything other than normal duties." + +The steward sighed. "Very well. Secure them, then. I'll call for them +later." He stood. + +[Illustration] + +"Come, Nal Gerda," he ordered, "unless you have something further to +tell me of this, we must have an audience with the Baron." + + * * * * * + +Florel, Baron Bel Menstal, sat at his ease. Before him was a dish of +good cakes, beside him, a cup and flagon of good wine. He looked +contentedly around the apartment. + +For fourteen years now, he had been lord of this castle. And for +fourteen years, he had busied himself building his forces and increasing +his power and influence in the duchy. He had made himself feared and +respected. + +During the past several years, his word had been of great weight in the +Duke's councils. He was now one of the great barons of the realm. He +smiled to himself. + +As he had risen in importance, Orieano, the soft holder of the rich +fields to the west, had fallen. The man was getting old--even older than +the Duke himself, and he was tired. And his daughter was the sole heir +to that barony. + +Again, Menstal smiled to himself as he thought of the daughter of +Orieano. Next month, at the fair, he would press suit for the hand of +the heiress, and a few months after that he would have control of the +rich farm lands and the trading city. + +The girl would probably protest, but that would do her little good. He +knew what fear could do. And he could rouse such fear as to render even +strong men but helpless masses of flesh. The beauteous damsel of Orieano +would be a simple task. None other would dare dispute his claim, and the +Duke would come to support him. + +And the Duke himself? Ah, well, perhaps it would be as well to allow him +to finish his life in peaceful possession of his broad fields. But +certainly, the son of Dwerostel would have no word in the control of the +duchy. An accident could be easily arranged, and Flor, one-time woods +beater and scullery boy of Budorn, would become the great Duke he had +long planned to be. No, it wouldn't take too many more years. + +He filled himself a cup, and looked complacently into its clear depths. +The tap on the door broke his reverie, and he looked up, annoyed. + +He stared impatiently at his castle steward as the man entered and made +obeisance. + +"What now, Weron?" He set the cup down. "Must I be bothered with all +your petty problems?" + +"This, Excellency, is an unusual problem. A sizable tribute payment has +disappeared without trace. The empty bags were left, and the culprit +has----" + +"Enough!" The Baron waved a hand impatiently, then adjusted his golden +coronet to a more comfortable angle. For an instant, his fingers played +with the ornamental bosses. + +"Yes, yes, I see," he snapped. "You can spare me your mumbled details. +This man is the officer of the guard?" + +"Yes, Excellency." The steward motioned Gerda forward. + +Bel Menstal looked sternly at his officer. "Where did you hide your +loot?" he demanded. + +Gerda looked incredulously at his master. He had stolen nothing. As far +as he knew, he had done nothing wrong. But he seemed to be condemned in +advance. Something was insistently pressing on his brain, demanding a +confession. He had nothing to confess, but the demanding pressure +remained. He struggled against it, and it grew. + +_Admit it. How did you do it? Where is the money?_ + +The pressure became a tearing force. Gerda swayed weakly. + +"I don't know what happened," he insisted. "I told----" + +The words stopped as the force became almost unbearably intense. A +sudden, sharp pain tore at Gerda's throat, and blinding light seemed to +strike back of his eyes. Through the glare, he dimly saw the Baron raise +a hand threateningly. + +"You claim to have no idea at all how the money was taken, or which of +your men may have been the thief? This is not a sensible attitude." + +_You know something. You must know something. Tell it!_ + +Gerda shook his head miserably, entirely unable to speak. Somehow, +nothing was clear. He remembered that something had gone wrong. Somehow, +he had failed his duty. But how? The room was hazy. Snatches of his last +tour of duty rose to his consciousness, then were abruptly blotted +out--gone. The faces of his clerk and of the men-at-arms came out of the +haze for an instant. Then, they, too, were gone. + +The room seemed to spin and an irresistible force bore him to the floor. +As he slowly was pressed downward, he wondered who he was--why he was +here--what had happened. Then, the floor came at him with blinding speed +and he ceased to wonder. The haze about him scintillated and became +impenetrable darkness. + +The Baron looked down at the crumpled form. + +"Take this man away, Weron," he ordered. "He knew nothing." He stroked +his hair. "When he recovers, assign him to some unimportant duty in the +castle. Something, of course, that will demand little thought or +spirit." + +"And the others, Excellency?" + +"Oh, bring them in, one at a time. One of them managed to make a +complete fool of his officer, of course. But I'll find him." + +Bel Menstal waved his hand in dismissal, then leaned back in his chair, +watching as his steward directed a pair of men-at-arms. They carried the +limp form from the room. + + * * * * * + +"There. That'll pick up any power radiation from the castle." Konar +straightened, looking at the small panel. + +"Good enough." Meinora leaned over, checking the dials. "See you've set +it for average power." + +"Yes, sir. It'll give a flicker indication for low levels and it'll fail +to trip for unaided thought. Not too much chance of an overload, +either." + +"That's right. You're learning." Meinora nodded casually. "Well, let's +keep watch on it." He sat down. "Audio alarm on?" + +Konar glanced at the panel again. "I remembered it this time." He +grinned, then looked curiously at his superior's cut cheek. The wound +was healing nicely. In an hour or so, there would be no visible trace of +the injury. + +"Say, Chief," he asked, "how'd you happen to get slapped?" + +"I asked for it." Meinora smiled thoughtfully. + +"Yes, sir. I know that. But what was the purpose?" + +"This continent has never been thoroughly checked, so we're sampling the +culture. We know a lot about them now, but there's a lot we still have +to know. For example, how do they react to various stimuli? And how much +stimulus is necessary to produce a given action? Of course, we can't +check every individual, but we can pick up a sample from each community +we contact and extrapolate from them." Meinora spread his hands. + +"So, I presented a minor irritation to that officer, and he +reacted--fast. He didn't just slap me for effect. He was infuriated at +the insult to his authority. Not only that, but his men expected him to +react in just that manner. I noted that, too. He'd have lost face if +he'd acted in any other way. And the men-at-arms were disappointed when +we gave them no further excuse for violence. We really lost face with +them. There, we have an indication that violence is the expected thing +in this particular castle, which is a community of the duchy. Right?" + +"Yes." Konar nodded thoughtfully. "They're not only violent themselves, +but they expect violence from others. I see what you mean. You'll sample +the other baronies?" + +"Certainly. As many as we contact. They can tell us quite a bit. We----" + +A buzzer interrupted him. Meinora snapped a switch and sat forward +alertly. + +A needle quivered, rose from its rest, and swung abruptly across the +meter scale. With an audible ping, it slapped against the stop beyond +the maximum reading. + +Meinora looked sharply at the detector set, then turned a selector +switch. The needle moved reluctantly away from the pin, but remained +above the red line at center scale. Meinora grimaced, twisted the +selector again, and adjusted another knob, till the needle came to rest +at center. + +He examined the dial readings, frowned incredulously, then turned. + +"Look at it," he invited. "It's a wonder he hasn't burned that amplifier +out. It's a heavy duty job, I know. But----" + +Konar leaned over his chief's shoulder. + +"What an overload! We've found it, all right. But what's going on?" + +"Let's find out." Meinora flipped a switch. The two men tensed against +the resultant shock and were silent for a time. At last, Konar reached +out to snap the switch off. + +"Just raw, crushing force," he said wonderingly. "A ferocious demand, +with no regard for facts, no consideration of mental characteristics, no +thought of consequence." He shook his head slowly. "Never experienced +anything just like that before." + +"With the power he's using," Meinora remarked, "it's a wonder he doesn't +upset every mind in his castle." He snapped the detector off. + +"Including his own." Konar nodded and looked at the dial settings. "One +thing's sure. This boy never had any instruction." He stepped back. +"Well, we know he has it. What's the procedure?" + +Meinora was frowning thoughtfully. He stroked his injured cheek, then +shook his head. + +"We certainly let that guard officer in for something," he mused. "Have +to pick him up and give him therapy, I think." He looked at Konar. "Oh, +procedure?" + +"Yes, sir. Do we catch him alone and proceed as we did with the last +one? That worked with no trouble." + +"No, I don't think it'd work out so well in this case. If I caught it +right, this one's almost never by himself outside his apartment. Likes +to impress his personality on people." Meinora looked at the detector +set, then around at the younger man beside him. + +"You know, I got some interesting side thoughts just now. Maybe we can +do two jobs in one this time. It'll take a little longer, but it might +save time in the long run." + +The communications operator came over. "Not another of those?" he asked +with a grin. + +Meinora nodded. "I'm just dreaming up a nice, dirty trick," he admitted. +"Tried something like it once before, on a smaller scale. It worked." He +stood up, stretching. + +"The fair's going to be on at Orieano in a little while, right?" + +"Yes. Be a pretty big affair, too, I think. Why?" + +"And the Duke'll be there, of course, along with most of his court and a +good share of his fighting men?" + +"Why, yes, sir. They tell me he's always been there. Don't suppose he'll +skip it this time." + +"So, it's perfect. We'll get this set of equipment in public, and with +apparent legitimacy. And in the process, we'll set up social strains +that'll result in this area reorienting itself." Meinora looked around +with a grin. + +"Look, call Barskor. Tell him to pick us up with the flier. We'll go +down to the hills south of Orieano. Tell you about it on the way." + + * * * * * + +The last of the river guards was carried out, head dangling limply from +the arms of one of the bearers. Bel Menstal sat back in his chair, +frowning. Abruptly, he turned on his steward. + +"None of them knew a thing," he snarled. "None of them. There's +something funny going on here." + +The steward's face was drawn. Dizzying forces had assailed him, and he +had almost collapsed several times during the questioning. He tried to +gather his hazy thoughts. Too many kept coming too fast. + +"Yes, Excellency," he agreed. "Maybe it _is_ witchcraft." + +Bel Menstal's face darkened. "Nonsense," he growled, rising part way out +of his chair. "Witchcraft be damned! There's some explanation to this, +and I'm going to find out what it is." + +"Yes, Excellency." + +The Baron looked up, then stared contemptuously at his man. + +"Yes, Excellency," he mimicked in a singsong voice. "Always 'Yes, +Excellency.' Haven't you an idea of your own?" + +"Yes, Excellency, I----" + +"Inept fool! There's an explanation to this, I tell you. And peasant +superstition has no part in it. You should have found it. But no! You +came, dragging a whole detachment of guards in for me to question. Me, +the Baron! I have to do all the work--all the thinking. I tell you, I +want men about me who can think and act." + +He got out of his chair and circled the table, striding close to the +steward. + +"I'll give you one more chance, Weron. Go out and find what happened to +that money. I don't care how you do it, and I'm not going to be bothered +with your petty details. But find out where that money has gone. Is that +simple enough for you to understand?" + +"Yes, Excellency." Weron backed toward the door. "I'll----" + +Reckless fury shook Florel. Suddenly, he felt an irresistible craving +for direct, violent action. He picked a dagger from his belt. + +"You're not only a fool," he shouted, "but a spineless one, as well. I +think I'll have to get another steward. A good one." He raised the +dagger, then paused. + +"Here, weakling. You'd like to use this, wouldn't you? But you lack the +will. That's why you're a mere lackey." Abruptly, he threw the weapon at +Weron. + +"Try it, fool. Try it, and see how a real man protects himself." + +He stalked toward the steward. + +The man cringed away, then, pressed by his master, suddenly sobbed with +rage. He raised the dagger. Bel Menstal, protected by his body shield, +brushed the stroke aside. + +"Ha!" He snatched the weapon. "You would try it?" + +Weron threw his arms before him, trying to ward off the blows, then +slumped as the blade sank into his flesh. + +Bel Menstal struck the sagging body a few more times with the dagger, +then threw the weapon on top of the inert form. + +"Ho, Guards," he shouted, flinging the door open. + +He went back to his chair and watched as the guards came in. In +obedience to his gesture, they carried the one-time steward from the +room. The door closed, and Bel Menstal was alone. Slowly, the +stimulation of the encounter faded, and he shook his head. + +It had been pleasant for a few minutes, he thought, but he had solved +nothing. + +Could it be that searchers from his native land had at last found him? +He frowned. No, they wouldn't use some devious method, even supposing +they could find some way of corrupting his household. They would simply +expose him and accuse him before the Duke. They'd storm his castle if +necessary, to take him by force. This was something else. He would have +to think. He put his elbows on the table, cupping his face in his hands. + + * * * * * + +The great market square at Orieano was crowded. Colorful tents hid most +of the cobblestones, and the rest of the pavement was obscured from view +by the droves of people. Merchants and their assistants hovered about, +each endeavoring to outdo the rest in enticing the swarming crowd into +his tent. Jugglers and mountebanks competed for attention, outdoing even +themselves in their efforts to gain the ears, the eyes, and the coins of +the mob of bargain hunters. + +At one side of the square, the cattle mart was drawing many, who +listened to the noise of the beasts and the shouts of the vendors. Some +paused to bargain. Others simply strode about, still looking for the +things they had come to seek out. Here and there, a cutpurse slunk +through the crowd, seeking his own type of bargain--an unwary victim. + +The Duke of Dwerostel rode into the market, conscious of a buzz which +rose to a loud hum. The bellowing of beasts, the cries of vendors, the +scuffling of many feet, all blended into one great sound--the voice of +the fair. + +The Duke listened contentedly. Here, he thought, was activity. Here, his +chamberlain would find the things he had been ordered to get that the +comfort of the castle might be furthered. And here was a certainty of +tolls and taxes, which would enrich the duchy. + +He continued at the head of his retinue, through the center of the +square. Time enough to take close note of the market later. Now, he +wished to get to the castle of Orieano, where he would take refreshment +after his trip. + +He looked up at the heights above the town. Pennants were flying from +the stone battlements. And he could see the tiny figures of the guard. +His presence in the town had certainly been noted. He rode to the other +side of the square, and led his company up the steep, winding road to +the castle's town gate. + +The sentries grounded their pikes and stood rigidly as the ducal escort +rode through the gate, the pennons on their lances flying with the +breeze of their passage. The ducal party swept through the outer ward, +through the inner wall, and came to a halt before the keep. + +The Baron of Orieano waited before his keep. He came forward, bowing low +before his liege, then steadied a stirrup as the Duke dismounted. He +waved toward the dinning hall. + +"Your Excellency will grace us with his presence at meat?" + +The Duke gestured to a page, who took the charger's reins to guide the +beast away. + +"It would be pleasing to us," he said. + +He nodded graciously and followed his vassal into the hall. He nodded in +approval at the long tables, waited until the clanging of the welcoming +salute subsided, and went to the elevated table set for his use and that +of his Baron. + +He sat down, looking over the company. A glint of gold caught his eye, +and he looked curiously at two men who sat a little way down the table. + +These two were elegantly turned out, their long cloaks thrown back to +expose richly embroidered cloth. The Duke examined them closely. +Obviously, here was one of the great western nobles, with an almost +equally noble companion. The golden circlet proclaimed the identity of +one, and the proud bearing and rich dress of both confirmed their +station. Somehow, the Duke thought, these two presented a far more +imposing appearance than his vassal, the Baron Bel Menstal, despite that +Baron's overwhelming personality. + +He thought of his hard fighting border protector. Of course, he had far +to come, and the way through the mountains could be difficult. But it +was a little strange he was not yet here. + +The Duke remembered some of the resentful gazes he had noted during his +passage through the fair. He must have words, he decided, with Bel +Menstal. Possibly the man was a little too eager to collect his road and +river taxes. Possibly this hard man of his was too hard, too grasping. +Of course, he held a valuable bastion against the tribes of the +Ajerical, but---- + +He shrugged away his thoughts and devoted his attention to the dishes +before him. + + * * * * * + +As the Duke took up his food, the waiting company commenced reaching for +dishes. Konar turned toward Meinora with a slight smile. + +_"Got 'em well trained, hasn't he?"_ + +_"That he has. Another note for our cultural information."_ + +_"When do you want me to talk to him?"_ + +_"After he's finished his main courses and got a few cups of wine in +him. Our boy'll be delayed for a while, you know. We've plenty of time +to let Orieano fill the Duke in before Bel Menstal arrives."_ + +Klion Meinora turned his attention to the trencher before him for a +moment, then looked toward his companion again. + +_"Notice the girl sitting by the Baron?"_ + +_"You mean Orieano's daughter?"_ + +_"Precisely. Don't give her any cause for fear. Don't even make a +sudden move in her presence."_ + +_"You mean----?"_ + +_"I do. She could become Lady Death, if she got frightened."_ + +Konar looked toward the elevated table. The girl looked harmless enough. +She was slender, attractive, even delicate looking. But he remembered a +horror-distorted face, a mind-shattering scream, and a blinding flash of +light. He shuddered a little and turned his attention to his food. + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +Florel Bel Menstal strode into the hall, looking toward the table head. +The Duke, he noted, was still at table, though he had finished his meal. +Now, he was engaged in earnest conversation with Orieano. + +This, Bel Menstal thought, must be checked. Haughtily ignoring the rest +of the company, he paced to the head of the table, where he made +perfunctory obeisance. + +"Your Excellency," he greeted. He straightened. "I offer my apologies +for my late appearance. My men had to clear a slide from the way." He +turned toward Orieano. + +"You would do well to instruct your serfs in the art of road building. +Their work seems slack." + +He faced the Duke again. The overlord set his cup down. + +"Bel Menstal," he said gravely, "two nobles of your former land have +come to me to present serious accusations." He rose. "You will accompany +me to the chambers." + +Bel Menstal hesitated. His men were outside the castle, of course. It +was against etiquette to bring them inside, especially when the Duke +was present. But there were plenty of them. Possibly he should fight his +way out of here now. Once in his hilltop castle, he would be +impregnable. And his raiding parties could keep the barony in supplies. +Or possibly it would be better to---- + +He forced his panic down. After all, what could these two do? There +could be little evidence they could offer. Well over twenty years had +passed. He had adopted the ways of the land. Now, he was one of the +Duke's powerful arms. And what could they give to offset that? + +Here was no cause for fear. He could bluff his way out of this +accusation, discredit the searchers, and make his position permanently +secure. Possibly it was even better this way. He looked scornfully at +the two men who moved toward him. + +They were dressed in the ornate court dress of the Western Empire, he +saw. Unquestionably, these were genuine men of the west. But he was now +of the east. And here, he had established himself, and would soon +establish himself more firmly, while they were mere foreigners. When it +came to it, the Duke would hardly dare be too critical of him. +Confidently, he pushed his way past the nearer of the two westerners, to +follow the Duke to the audience chamber. + +As the Duke faced about, one of the newcomers stepped forward. + +"There is the man, Excellency," he said positively. "Here is no man of +noble birth. This man is a serf--a mere scullery boy-who murdered his +noble master to steal his insignia. We have searched for many years, for +his crime was so monstrous that no effort could be too great to bring +him to justice." He faced Bel Menstal. + +"Flor, serf of Budorn," he said sternly, "your time of reckoning has +come. Hand over the stolen insignia." + +The Duke intervened. + +"Aren't we going a little fast?" he asked mildly. "He claims to be a +younger son of the Earl of Konewar. Let him speak in his defense." + +The stranger nodded. "That we learned, Excellency," he admitted. "And +that is what led us to him, for it is one of the great holes in his +story. We know of Konewar. True, he had two sons, but the younger was +killed several years ago." He paused. + +"There is a further bit of evidence I might offer," he added. "And I +feel sure that some study by your chamberlain will bear me out." He +pointed at the coronet worn by Florel. + +"That insignia of rank which this man profanes is never given to other +than the rightful heir to a great estate. And then, not until he +succeeds to his title. No younger member of any of our noble families +has ever been allowed the coronet or the belt. Even many large +landholders, such as I, do not have them. Those are reserved for the +heads of the great houses, and there are few of them in existence. +Certainly, no western Earl would desert his holdings to journey to far +lands and to take service with another, not even one so highly placed as +yourself." + +The Duke looked sharply at him, then turned his gaze on his vassal. +"These words have the ring of truth," he said. "Can you answer them? +Have you perchance traded upon our unfamiliarity with your home country +to misrepresent your station?" + +Flor looked around the room. Possibly there was still time to----Or +possibly he could still face these men down. Only one of them wore a +coronet. He drew himself up arrogantly. + +"These are cunning deceivers," he stated positively. "When I left +Konewar, my father himself----" + +Meinora raised a hand threateningly. "Your father was never in Konewar, +Serf," he said sternly. "Your father still tends his master's fields in +the hills of Budoris." + +Flor snatched his sword from its sheath. This was the unprotected one. +He could be struck with the sword, and perhaps in the confusion, an +escape would be possible. + +"That is the last insult," he snarled. "I challenge you to combat, to +test whether you can support your lies." + +"Nobles," was the reply, "do not fight with serfs. You should know that. +The great ones, like him," Meinora pointed at Konar, who stood close to +the Duke, "have no contact with such as you. But I am here. And when a +serf becomes insolent, we have ways of punishing him." + +Konar smiled a little, pointing a small object as Meinora slipped his +own sword out. + +Flor lunged furiously, and Meinora stepped aside. The man had +determination and fierce courage. But he had never bothered to really +learn the use of his weapon. No need, of course. He had never been +compelled to put up a defense. Not till now. The hand weapon held by +Konar would destroy his invulnerability. + +Meinora struck suddenly at Flor's hand with the flat of his blade, then +engaged the man's sword with his own, and twisted. The weapon clattered +to the floor and Flor stooped to recover it. + +The team chief laughed shortly, bringing the flat of his blade down in a +resounding smack and Flor straightened, involuntarily bringing a hand to +his outraged rear. Again, the blade descended, bringing a spurt of dust +from his clothing. Flor twisted, trying to escape, but his assailant +followed, swinging blow after full armed blow with the flat of his +sword. He worked with cool skill. + +It seemed to Flor that the punishing steel came from all directions, to +strike him at will. Blows fell on his back, his legs, even his face, and +he cringed away, trying desperately to escape the stinging pain. Under +the smarting blows, he remembered previous whippings, administered by a +strong-armed kitchen master, and he seemed to smell the stench of the +scullery once more. Suddenly, he sank to his knees in surrender. + +"Please, Master. No more, please." He raised his hands, palms together, +and looked up pleadingly. + +The Duke looked down in horrified disgust. + +"And this, I accepted. This, I made a Baron of my realm." He transferred +his gaze to Konar. Suddenly, he looked feeble and humbly supplicant. + +Flor sniffled audibly. + +"I know you have come a long way," the Duke said, "but I would ask of +you a favor. I would deal with this miscreant. Your injury is old. It +has been partially healed by time, and it does not involve honor so +deeply as does my own." He shook his head. + +"I have abandoned the dignity of my station, and the injury is fresh and +must continue unless I act to repair it." + +Konar nodded graciously. "Your Excellency's request is just," he said. +"We but came to reclaim the lost insignia of Budorn." He stepped +forward, taking the circlet from Flor's head. Two guards seized the +prisoner, and Konar tore the belt from the man's waist. + +"This insigne must be remounted," he said. "The belt has been dishonored +for too long." He broke the fastenings holding the body shield to the +leather, and threw the heavy strap back at Flor. + +"We are deeply indebted to you, Excellency," he added, turning to the +Duke. "If it is your will, we shall remain only for the execution, then +return to our own land." + +The Duke sighed. "It is well." He nodded at the guards. "Remove him," he +ordered. "An execution will be held at daybreak." + + * * * * * + +_"Very good, Konar. You handled that beautifully."_ + +_"Thanks, Chief. What's next?"_ + +_"Just keep the Duke busy with bright conversation. Buck up his spirits +a bit. The old boy's had a nasty shock, and unfortunately, he's due for +another one. Too bad, but it's for the best. I'll take it from here."_ + + * * * * * + +Diners looked up curiously as the two guards led Flor through the hall +to the outer door. A few rose and followed as the three men went past +the sentries at the portal, and came out into the sunshine of the inner +ward. Across the cobblestones was the narrow entrance to the dungeon. + +Flor looked around despairingly. His charger stood, waiting for the +rider, who would never again--Or would he? + +He remembered that he was still carrying the heavy belt that had been so +contemptuously flung at him. When the strap had been thrown, he had +flung a hand up to protect his already aching face. He had caught and +held the belt, and no one had thought to take it from him. + +He suddenly swerved his thick shoulders, swinging the heavy strap at the +eyes of one of his guards. With a cry of pain, the man covered his face, +and Flor spun, to swing the strap at the other guard. Before the two men +could recover, he dashed to the side of his mount, swung into the +saddle, and urged the beast into motion. + +The wall was low on this side, but Flor remembered it towered high above +the dry moat. And across that moat were the woods, where his men waited. +He urged the beast to full speed, forcing the animal to the top of the +wall and over. + +For an almost endless instant, time seemed to stop. The barren moat and +green weeds floated beneath him, and the only reminder of his rapid drop +was the air, which whistled past his ears. Suddenly, motion was restored +again, and they lit with a jarring crash, just at the lip of the moat. + +With a cry of agony, the charger pitched forward, pawing at the stones +that had smashed his chest, and throwing his rider over his head. Flor +managed to land uninjured. He picked himself up and ran to the edge of +the forest before he stopped to look back. + +Heads were appearing atop the wall. At the edge of the moat, the charger +struggled vainly, then dropped from sight. Flor waved defiantly at the +growing crowd which stared from the high wall. + +"The Duke hangs nobody," he shouted, "unless he can catch and hold him." +He turned, to make his way through the trees. + +"In fact," he added to himself, "I may yet return to hang the Duke." + +He went to the meadow where his escort was encamped. + +"We have been betrayed," he shouted. "The Duke plots with the merchants +to destroy Bel Menstal and hang his men. Break camp! We must gather the +forces of the barony." + + * * * * * + +Baron Bel Orieano looked worried. + +"The Duke has sent couriers," he said, "to gather the fighting men of +the duchy. But it will be a long, hard struggle. The serf has gained the +hills of Menstal. He has raised his men, and has dared to attack. Some +say he has enlisted those very hill tribes, from whose depredations he +swore to defend the duchy, and even has them serving under his banner." +He looked at Meinora and Konar. + +"The roads of the duchy are no longer safe. Raiding parties appear at +every wooded stretch. Nor can we even be certain that the couriers have +gotten through to Dweros." He shook his head. + +"I, of course, am loyal to the Duke. But my forces are few. My barony +has been a peaceful community, having little need for arms." + +Meinora smiled encouragingly. "Yet there are fighters here," he said, +"and in plenty." + +The Baron looked at him curiously. "Where? I have no knowledge of such." + +Konar leaned forward. "If you can help us get the Duke's approval, we +can raise an army which ten Bel Menstals would fail to withstand." + +"The Duke's approval?" + +"Certainly." Konar waved his hand. "Look over your walls, Excellency. +You have burghers. There are armorers, merchants, with their caravan +guards, artisans, even peasants. Here, today, are gathered more +able-bodied men than Bel Menstal could raise, were he to search out and +impress all the hill tribes." + +"But, to arm these Commoners? And would they fight?" + +"To be sure. Given reason, they will fight like madmen." + +Meinora leaned forward, speaking rapidly. "For long years, they have +suffered from the road and river taxes of Bel Menstal, as well as from +the insults and blows of his officers. Many of them have been +imprisoned, and held for ruinous ransom. Others have been tortured and +killed. Under the serf, they would suffer additional taxes, until they +were driven from the land, or themselves reduced to serfdom and even +slavery." He waved at the town. + +"Caravans would be halted and stripped of both goods and coin. All this, +he has done before, but on no such scale as he would were restraining +hands removed." Meinora spread his hands. + +"The Duke has only to promise, under his solemn oath, to rid the land of +robbers, to allow the merchants and artisans to police the land, and to +form those guilds and associations which they have long petitioned for +their own protection. For these things, they will fight." + +The Baron leaned back in his chair. He had heard some of these arguments +before, but had ignored them, thinking that they were mere special +pleading from interested merchants. Now, they were being presented by +men of his own station. + +And the situation was urgent. Drastic measures were necessary. Under the +gaze of the two, he felt a change of thought. The whole thing was +possible, of course, and it might be that trade, uninterrupted by robber +depredation, would provide greater taxes than before. + +Finally, he rose to his feet. "Come," he said, "we will seek audience +with the Duke and put this matter before him." + + * * * * * + +"Well, that's part of the job." Klion Meinora twisted in his seat and +craned his neck to look at the green fields spread out beneath the +flier. + +"It worked out almost exactly as you explained it, Chief." Konar looked +curiously at his instructor. "But I missed a couple of steps somewhere." + +"It followed from the culture pattern." Meinora raised an eyebrow. "You +saw the reaction of the Duke when he realized that Flor was actually a +serf?" + +"Sure. He was so horrified, he was sick." + +"But did you think of the reaction of the townsmen and peasants?" + +"You mean they'd feel the same way?" + +"Sure. Most of them did. These people have been ingrained with a firm +belief in their mode of living. They regard it as right and proper. And +the murder and robbery of a noble by a serf is just as serious in the +eyes of serfs and freemen as it is to the nobles. No serf in his right +mind would even think of raising a hand against a noble, not even in +self-defense. Catch?" + +Konar leaned back. "Oh, brother," he murmured. "I can just see what +happened when Flor's real status finally penetrated the minds of his own +men." + +"You're probably right, too. And with no body shield to supplement his +rather awkward swordsmanship, Flor was fresh meat for the first real +fighting man that stood up to him." Meinora shook his head. + +"His was a hopelessly twisted mentality, and there was no possibility of +salvage." + +"I know. They have a few of his type in the wards at Aldebaran." Konar +shrugged hopelessly. "Therapists just fold their hands when they see +'em." + +"They do that. People like Flor are just pure ferocity. Oh, sometimes, +they're cunning, even talented. But there's no higher mentality to +develop--not a trace of empathy. And you can't work with something +that's completely missing. Good thing they are quite rare." + +"I should say so," agreed Konar. "A very good thing." He looked out over +the fields. "His influence lasted for a while, too." + +"It did. He'd conditioned his people to a certain extent. Just as I +expected, it took some time to persuade that gang to stop their +depredations, and it had to be done the hard way. But the merchants were +willing, and that's what it took." Meinora brushed a hand over his hair. +He knew how the rest of this story went---- + +"It'll take 'em some time to get used to their new charters, but the +roots of the guilds are formed. And they did some fighting and learned +their powers. It'll take a lot to make 'em go back to the old routine. +The Duke'll never try it, and his successors won't be able to. Anyone +who tries to conquer that bunch of wild-cats'll have a tough job, and +he'll get really hurt. It'll spread, too. Merchants and artisans in the +next duchy'll get the idea. And then the next, and the next. Freedom's a +contagious thing." + +Klion Meinora studied the terrain, then turned back. + +"It's going to be a tough planet for a long time," he said thoughtfully. +"A tough, brawling planet. They'll fight for everything they get, and +sometimes for just the love of fighting. The people who come from here +will be something to deal with. But they'll knock their own rough edges +off. No, they won't be savages." + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Millennium, by Everett B. 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