"No, I don't think so. I'll work my way--as your lead driver."
"Oh, no!" Dar Girdek laughed. "You don't put a psionic on some
long-neck. Lead driver's pseudoman, just like the rest." He sobered.
"Oh, sure. You could handle the drivers, but it just isn't done."
Naran smiled. "Oh, as far as the other drivers'll know, I'm just another
pseudoman. I've been a ship's non-psi agent, remember? We earn our keep
by dealing with the people in non-psi areas."
"It won't work." The caravan master shook his head. "These drivers can
get pretty rough with each other. You'd have to set two or three of them
back on their heels the first day. It would be either that, or get a lot
of bruises and end up as camp flunky."
"Could be," Naran told him. "Tell you what. You turn me loose in an
experimental chamber so I can't fudge. Then send your toughest driver in
and tell him to kick me out of there. I'll show him some tricks I
learned from the non-psi's overseas and he'll be a smarter man when he
wakes up."
* * * * *
Leuwan, Kio Barra, Lord of the Mountain Lake, Master of the Estates Kira
Barra, and Protector of the Common Good, stood examining the assortment
of crystals in a cabinet. He hesitated over a large, brilliantly
gleaming sphere of crystallized carbon, then shook his head. That one
would be pretty heavy going, he was sure. The high intensity summary
said something about problems of the modern world, so it could be
expected to be another of those dull reports on the welfare of the
Commonwealth.
Why, he wondered, did some projection maker waste good time and effort
by making up things like that? And why did they waste more time and
effort by sending them around? When a man wanted to relax, he wanted
something to relax with. What he was looking for was something light.
He turned his attention to other crystals, at last selecting a small,
blue prism. He held it up, regarding it, then nodded and placed it on
the slender black pedestal near his chair, where he could observe
without undue effort.
He turned, examining each corner of his empty study, then took his
sapphire-tipped golden staff from under his arm, placing it carefully on
a rack built into his chair arm, where it would be convenient to his
hand should the need arise.
One could never be too careful, he thought. Of course, he could deal
with any recalcitrant slave by other means, but the distorter was
convenient and could be depended upon to give any degree of pressure
desired. And it was a lot less trouble to use than to concentrate on
more fatiguing efforts such as neural pressure or selective paralysis.
One must conserve one's powers for times when they might be really
needed.
Too, there was the remote possibility that some lackland wanderer might
come by and find a flaw in the protection of the Estates--even somehow
penetrate to the Residence. Barra shuddered at that thought, then
shrugged it off. Kira Barra was well protected, of that he had made
sure. Ever vigilant surrogates were deposited in all the strategic spots
of the Estates--not only to allow quick observations of the condition of
the lands, but also to give automatic warning of the approach of anyone
of inimical turn of mind.
He eased his bulk into the chair, twisted about for a few moments as it
adjusted to fit his body, then leaned back with a sigh of relaxation and
directed his thoughts to the crystal before him.
Under the impulses of his amplified thought, the crystal glowed,
appeared to expand, then became a three-dimensional vista.
The high intensity summary and excerpt leader had been not too
deceptive, Barra told himself as the story unfolded. It was a well done
adventure projection, based on the war with the Fifth planet.
Critically, he watched the actions of a scout crew, approving of the
author's treatment and selection of material. He, Barra, was something
of a connoisseur of these adventure crystals, even though he had never
found it necessary to leave the protection of Earth's surface.
He shrugged, taking his attention from the projection.
The lacklanders, he told himself--entertainment people, caravan masters,
seafarers, other wanderers of light responsibility--were the natural
ones to be selected to go out and deal with remote emergencies.
Like all stable, responsible men of property and worth, he was far too
valuable to the Commonwealth to risk himself in wild dashes to the dead,
non-psionic lands, or out into the emptiness of space. As far as risking
himself on combat missions of interplanetary war-- He shook his head.
This was pure stupidity.
He frowned uneasily. It had been a bit unfair, though, of the
Controllers. They had completely excused him from service on the basis
of inaptitude. It had rankled ever since.
Of course he couldn't be expected to dash madly about in some two-man
scout. Even as his brother's assistant, he had been a person of quite
definite standing and responsibility and such antics would have been
beneath his dignity. He had made that quite plain to them.
There had been responsible posts where a man of his quality and standing
could have been of positive value. And, as he had pointed out, they
could have assigned him to one of those.
But no! They had merely excused him. Inapt!
As far as that went, he told himself angrily, he, Kio Barra, could
comport himself with the best if necessity demanded.
Those dashing characters in this projection were, of course, the
figments of some unstable dreamer's imagination. But they showed the
instability of the usual lackland wanderers. And what could such men do
that a solid, responsible man like himself couldn't do better?
He returned to the crystal, then shook his head in disgust. It had
become full--flat--meaningless. Besides, he had matters of real import
to take care.
He directed his attention to the chair, which obediently swung about
until he faced his large view crystal.
"Might as well have a look at the East Shore," he told himself.
* * * * *
As he focused his attention, the crystal expanded, then became a huge
window through which he could see the shores of the inland sea, then the
lands to the east of the large island on which he had caused his
Residence to be built. He looked approvingly at the rolling, tree-clad
hills as the view progressed.
Suddenly, he frowned in annoyance. The great northern null was in
turbulence again, thrusting its shapeless arms down toward the borders
of Kira Barra. He growled softly.
There, he told himself, was the result of the carelessness of those
lackland fools who had been entrusted with the defense of the home
planet. Their loose, poorly planned defenses had allowed the pseudomen
of the Fifth to dash in and drop their destructors in a good many spots
on the surface. And here was one of them.
Here was a huge area which had once been the site of a great city and
which had contained the prosperous and productive estates of a Master
Protector, now reduced to a mere wasteland into which slaves might
escape, to lead a brute-like existence in idleness.
He had lost pseudomen slaves in this very null and he knew he would
probably lose more. Despite the vigilance of the surrogates, they kept
slipping across the river and disappearing into that swirling
nothingness. And now, with that prominence so close--
He had no guards he could trust to go after the fellows, either. Such
herd guards as he had would decide to desert their protector and take up
the idle life which their fellow pseudomen had adopted. A few of them
had gone out and done just that. Their memories of the protection and
privileges granted them were short and undependable. He sighed.
"Ungrateful beasts!"
Some Master Protectors had little trouble along that line. Others had
managed to hire the services of halfmen--weak psionics, too weak to
govern and yet strong and able enough to be more than mere pseudomen.
These halfmen made superb, loyal guards and overseers--for some--but
none had remained at Kira Barra. They had come, to be sure, but they had
stayed on for a time, then drifted away.
And, he thought angrily, it was illegal to restrain these halfmen in
any way. Some soft-headed fool had granted their kind the rights of
Commonwealth citizenship. Halfmen had even managed to take service with
the fleet during the war with the Fifth Planet. Some of them had even
managed somehow to be of small value--and now many of them held the
status of veterans of that victorious war--a status he, one of the great
landholders, was denied.
No, he told himself, until such time as the nulls were solved and
eliminated, such pseudomen as managed to cross the northeastern river
were safe enough in their unknown land. And, he thought sourly, the
scholars had made no progress in their studies of the nulls.
Probably they were concerning themselves with studies more likely to
give them preferment or more immediate personal gain.
Of course, the wasteland wasn't entirely unknown, not to him, at least.
He had viewed the area personally. There were hilltops on the Estates
from which ordinary eyesight would penetrate far into the dead area,
even though the more powerful and accurate parasight was stopped at its
borders. Yes, he had seen the affected area.
He had noted that much of it had regained a measure of fertility. There
was life now--some of it his own meat lizards who had wandered across
the river and out of his control. And he had even seen some of the
escaped pseudomen slinking through the scrub growth and making their
crudely primitive camps.
"Savages!" he told himself. "Mere animals. And one can't do a thing
about them, so long as they let that dead area persist."
Eventually, the scholars had reported, the dead areas would diminish and
fade from existence. He smiled bitterly. Here was a nice evasion--a neat
excuse for avoiding study and possible, dangerous research.
So long as those nulls remained, they would be sources of constant loss
of the responsible Master Protectors, and would thus threaten the very
foundations of the Commonwealth.
Possibly, he should-- He shook his head.
No, he thought, this was impractical. Parasight was worthless beyond the
borders of the null. No surrogate could penetrate it and no weapon would
operate within it. It would be most unsafe for any true man to enter.
There, one would be subject to gross, physical attack and unable to make
proper defense against it.
Certainly, the northern null was no place for him to go. Only the
pseudomen could possibly tolerate the conditions to be found there, and
thus, there they had found haven and were temporarily supreme.
Besides, this matter was the responsibility of the Council of
Controllers and the scholars they paid so highly.
He concentrated on the crystal, shifting the view to scan toward the
nearest village.
* * * * *
Suddenly, he sat forward in his chair. A herd of saurians was slowly
drifting toward one of the arms the null had thrust out. Shortly, they
would have ambled into a stream and beyond, out of all possible control.
Perhaps they might wander for years in the wastelands. Perhaps they and
their increase might furnish meat for the pseudomen who lurked inside
the swirling blankness.
He snarled to himself. No herders were in sight. No guard was in
attendance. He would have to attend to this matter himself. He
concentrated his attention on the power crystals of a distant surrogate,
willing his entire ego into the controls.
At last, the herd leader's head came up. Then the long-neck curved,
snaking around until the huge beast stared directly at the heap of rocks
which housed the crystals of the surrogate himself. The slow drift of
the herd slowed even more, then stopped as the other brutes dimly
recognized that something had changed. More of the ridiculously tiny
heads swiveled toward the surrogate.
Kio Barra squirmed in his chair. Holding these empty minds was a chore
he had always hated.
Certainly, there was less total effort than that required for the
control of the more highly organized pseudomen, but the more complex
minds reacted with some speed and the effort was soon over. There was a
short, sometimes sharp struggle, then surrender.
But this was long-term, dragging toil--a steady pushing at a soggy,
unresisting, yet heavy mass. And full concentration was imperative if
anything was to be accomplished. The reptilian minds were as unstable
as they were empty and would slip away unless firmly held. He stared
motionlessly at his crystal, willing the huge reptiles to turn--to
waddle back to the safe grasslands of the estate, far from the null.
At last, the herd was again in motion. One by one, the huge brutes swung
about and galloped clumsily toward more usual pastures, their long necks
swaying loosely with their motion.
Switching from surrogate to surrogate, Barra followed them, urged them,
forced them along until they plunged into the wide swamp northeast of
Tibara village.
He signed wearily and shifted his viewpoint to a surrogate which
overlooked the village itself. What, he wondered, had happened to the
herdsmen--and to the guards who should be overseeing the day's work?
* * * * *
Half hidden among ferns and the mastlike stems of trees, the rude huts
of Tibara nestled in the forest, blending with their surroundings, until
only the knowing observer could identify them by vague form. Barra
shifted his viewpoint to the central village surrogate.
There were other open spaces in the village, but this was the largest.
Here was the village well, near which a few children played some
incomprehensible game. An old man had collected a pile of rock and had
started work on the well curb. Now, he sat near his work, leaning
against the partly torn down wall. Spots of sunlight, coming through
the fronds high above, struck his body, leaving his face in shadow. He
dozed in the warmth, occasionally allowing his eyes to half open as he
idly regarded the scene before him.
Before some of the huts surrounding the rude plaza, women squatted on
the ground, their arms swinging monotonously up and down as they struck
their wooden pestles into bowls of grain which they were grinding to
make the coarse meal which was their mainstay of diet.
A few men could be seen, scratching at small garden plots or idly
repairing tools. Others squatted near their huts, their attention
occupied by fishing gear. Still others merely leaned against convenient
trees, looking at each other, their mouths moving in the grotesque way
of the pseudoman when he could find an excuse to idle away time.
Barra listened to the meaningless chatter of grunts and hisses, then
disregarded the sounds. They formed, he had been told, a sort of
elementary code of communication. He coughed disparagingly. Only some
subhuman could bring himself to study such things.
Of course, he knew that some lacklanders could make vocal converse with
the pseudomen and caravan masters seemed to do it as a regular thing,
but he could see no point in such effort. He could make his demands
known without lowering himself by making idiotic noises.
His communicator crystals would drive simple thoughts into even the
thick skulls of his slaves. And he could--and did--thus get obedience
and performance from those slaves by using normal, sensible means as
befitted one of the race of true men.
And what would one want of the pseudomen other than obedience? Would one
perhaps wish to discuss matters of abstract interest with these beast
men? He regarded the scene with growing irritation.
Now, he remembered. It was one of those days of rest which some idiot in
the Council had once sponsored. And a group of soft-headed fools had
concurred, so that one now had to tolerate periodic days of idleness.
Times had changed, he thought. There had been a time when slaves were
slaves and a man could expect to get work from them in return for his
protection and support.
But even with these new, soft laws, herds must be guarded--especially
with that null expanding as it was. Even some lackland idiot should be
able to understand that much.
He turned his attention to the headman's hut.
The man was there. Surrounded by a few villagers, he squatted before his
flimsy, frond-roofed hut, his mouth in grotesque motion. Now, he stopped
his noisemaking and poised his head. Then he nodded, looking about the
village.
Obviously, he was taking his ease and allowing his people to do as they
would, without supervision.
Barra started to concentrate on the surrogate, to make his wishes and
his displeasure known. Then he turned impatiently from the crystal,
seizing his staff. Efficient as the surrogates were, there were some
things better attended to in person.
* * * * *
He got to his feet and strode angrily out of the study, sending a
peremptory summons before him. As he entered the wide hallway, an
elderly slave came toward him. Barra looked at the man imperiously.
"My cloak," he demanded, "and the cap of power."
He projected the image of his fiber cloak and of the heavy gold
headpiece with its precisely positioned crystals, being careful to note
the red, green and blue glow of the various jewels. Meticulously, he
filled in details of the gracefully formed filigree which formed mounts
to support the glowing spheres. And he indicated the padded headpiece
with its incrustation of crystal carbon, so his servitor could make no
mistake. The man was more sensitive than one of the village slaves, but
even so, he was merely a pseudoman and had to have things carefully
delineated for him.
As the man walked toward a closet, Barra looked after him unhappily. The
heavy power and control circlet was unnecessary in the Residence, for
amplifiers installed in the building took care of all requirements. But
outside, in the village and fields, a portable source of power and
control was indispensable and this heavy gold cap was the best device he
had been able to find.
Even so, he hated to wear the circlet. The massive crystals mounted on
their supporting points weighed a couple of pounds by themselves and
though the gold insulating supports were designed as finely as possible,
the metal was still massive and heavy. It was a definite strain on his
neck muscles to wear the thing and he always got a headache from it.
For an instant, envy of the powerful psionics crossed his mind. There
were, he knew, those who required no control or power devices, being
able to govern and direct psionic forces without aid. But his powers,
though effective as any, required amplification and when he went out of
the Residence it was essential that he have the cap with him.
Proper and forceful handling of the things of the Estates, both animate
and inanimate, demanded considerable psionic power and this made the
large red power crystal at the center of his cap most necessary.
Besides, simultaneous control problems could be difficult--sometimes
even almost impossible--without the co-ordinating crystals which were
inset at the periphery of the headband.
And there was the possibility that he might meet some trespassing
lacklander who might have to be impressed with the resources of the
master of Kira Barra. He knew of more than one instance wherein a Master
Protector had been overcome by some predatory lackland wanderer, who had
then managed by one means or another to secure his own accession to the
estates of his victim. He smiled grimly.
Carelessness could be costly. He had proved that to his brother.
Kio Barra still remembered the first time he had quarreled violently
with Boemar. He still remembered the gentle, sympathetic smile and the
sudden, twisting agony that had shot through him as his power crystal
overloaded. The flare of energy had left him incapable of so much as
receiving a strongly driven thought for many days.
He laughed. But, poor, soft fool that he had been, Boemar had carefully
nursed his brother's mind back to strength again.
Yes, Boemar had been a powerful man, but a very unwise one. And he had
forgotten the one great strength of his weaker brother--a strength that
had grown as Leuwan aged. And so, it was Leuwan who was Kio Barra.
[Illustration]
But such a thing would never again happen at Kira Barra. With his
controls and amplifiers, he was more than a match for the most powerful
of the great psionics--so long as they didn't meet him with affectionate
sympathy.
He stood silently as the servitor put the cap on his head and placed the
cloak about his shoulders. Then, tucking his heavy duty distorter under
his arm, he turned toward the outer door. The control jewels on his cap
burned with inner fire as he raised himself a few inches from the floor
and floated out toward the dock.
* * * * *
Not far from the forest shaded village of Tibara, logs had been lashed
together to form a pier which jutted from the shore and provided a
mooring for the hollowed logs used by men of the village in harvesting
the fish of the lake. Several boats nested here, their bows pointing
toward the fender logs of the pier. More were drawn up on the gravel of
the shore, where they lay, bottoms upward, that they might dry and be
cleaned.
A few villagers squatted by their boats and near the pier. Others were
by the nets which had been spread over the gravel to dry.
One large section of the pier was vacant. Always, this area was reserved
for the use of the Lord of the Mountain Lake.
As Barra's boat sped through the water, he concentrated his attention on
the logs of the pier, urging his boat to increasing speed. The sharp
prow rose high in the water, a long vee of foam extending from it, to
spread out far behind the racing boat.
As the bow loomed almost over the floating logs, Barra abruptly
transferred his focus of attention to his right rear, pulling with all
the power of the boat's drive crystals. The craft swung violently,
throwing a solid sheet of water over pier and shore, drenching the logs
and the men about them.
Then the bow settled and the boat lay dead in the water, less than an
inch from the pier's fender logs.
Barra studied the space between boat and logs for an instant, then
nodded in satisfaction. It was an adequate landing by anyone's
standards.
His tension somewhat relieved, he raised himself from the boat and
hovered over the dock.
Sternly, he looked at the villagers who were now on their feet, brushing
water from their heads and faces. They ceased their movements, eying
him apprehensively and he motioned imperiously toward the boat.
"Secure it!"
The jewels of his control cap glowed briefly, amplifying and radiating
the thought.
The villagers winced, then two of them moved to obey the command. Barra
turned his attention away and arrowed toward the screen of trees which
partially concealed the village proper.
As he dropped to the ground in the clearing before the headman's hut,
men and women looked at him, then edged toward their homes. He ignored
them, centering his attention on the headman himself.
The man had gotten to his feet and was anxiously studying his master's
face.
For a few seconds, Barra examined the man. He was old. He had been
headman of the village under the old Master Protector, his father--and
his brother had seen no reason for change, allowing the aging headman to
remain in charge of the welfare of his people.
But this was in the long ago. Both of the older Kio Barra had been soft,
slack men, seeking no more than average results. He, Leuwan, was
different--more exacting--more demanding of positive returns from the
Estates.
Oh, to be sure, Kira Barra had somehow prospered under the soft hands of
his predecessors, despite their coddling of the subhuman pseudomen, but
there had been many laxities which had infuriated Leuwan, even when he
was a mere youth. He frowned thoughtfully.
Of course, if those two hadn't been so soft and tolerant, he would have
been something other than Lord of the Mountain Lake. He would have had
to find other activities elsewhere. He dropped the line of thought.
This was not taking care of the situation.
He put his full attention on the man before him, driving a demand with
full power of cap amplifier.
* * * * *
"Why are all your people idling away their time? Where are your herdsmen
and guards?"
The headman's face tensed with effort. He waved a hand southward and
made meaningless noises. Faintly, the thought came through to Barra.
"In south forest, with herd. Not idle, is rest day. Few work."
Barra looked angrily at the man. Did this fool actually think he could
evade and lie his way out of the trouble his obvious failure to
supervise had brought? He jabbed a thumb northward.
"What about that herd drifting toward the north river?" The two green
communicator crystals gleamed with cold fire.
The headman looked confused. "Not north," came the blurred thought. "No
herd north. All south forest, near swamp. One-hand boys watch. Some
guard. Is rest day."
Unbelievingly Barra stared at the pseudoman. He was actually persisting
in his effort to lie away his failure. Or was he attempting some sort
of defiance? Had his father and brother tolerated such things as this,
or was this something new, stemming from the man's age? Or, perhaps, he
was trying the temper of the Master Protector, to see how far he could
go in encroaching on authority.
He would deal with this--and now!
Abruptly, he turned away, to direct his attention to the central
surrogate. It was equipped with a projector crystal.
The air in the clearing glowed and a scene formed in the open space.
Unmistakably, it was the northern part of Kira Barra. The lake was
shown, and sufficient landmarks to make the location obvious, even to a
pseudoman. Carefully, Barra prevented any trace of the blank, swirling
null from intruding on the scene. Perhaps the subhuman creature before
him knew something of its properties, but there was no point in making
these things too obvious.
He focused the scene on the stream and brought the approaching herd into
the picture, then he flashed in his own face, watching. And he brought
the view down closely enough to indicate that no human creature was near
the herd. Finally, he turned his attention to the headman again.
"There was the herd. Where were your people?"
The old man shook his head incredulously, then turned toward one of the
few men who still remained in the clearing.
He made a series of noises and the other nodded. There were more of the
growls and hisses, then the headman waved a hand southward and the other
nodded again and turned away, to run into the trees and disappear.
The headman faced Barra again.
"Send man," he thought laboriously. "Be sure herd is still south." He
pointed toward the area where the projection had been.
"That not herd," he thought. "That other herd. Never see before."
* * * * *
Barra scowled furiously.
"You incapable imbecile! You dare to call your master a liar?"
He swung about, his furious gaze scanning the village. The pile of
stones he had noticed before caught his attention. He focused on it.
A few stones rose into the air and flew toward the headman.
The old man faced about, his eyes widening in sudden fear. He dodged one
of the flying stones, then turned to flee.
Barra flicked a second control on him briefly and the flight was halted.
More stones flew, making thudding sounds as they struck, then sailing
away, to gain velocity before they curved back, to strike again.
At last, Barra turned from the litter of rock about the formless mass on
the ground. He stared around the village, the fury slowly ebbing within
him.
A few faces could be seen, peeping from windows and from between trees.
He motioned.
"All villagers," he ordered. "Here before me. Now!" He waited
impatiently as people reluctantly came from their huts and out of the
trees, to approach the clearing.
At last, the villagers were assembled. Barra looked them over,
identifying each as he looked at him. Apart from the others, one of the
younger herd guards stood close to his woman. Barra looked at him
thoughtfully.
This man, he had noted, was obeyed by both herds and herdsmen. He had
seen him at work, as he had seen all the villagers, and obviously, the
man was capable of quick decisions--as quick, that was, as any pseudoman
could be. He pointed.
"This village needs a new headman," he thought peremptorily. "You will
take charge of it."
The man looked toward the huddled mass in the center of the litter of
rocks, then looked back at his woman. A faint wave of reluctance came to
Barra, who stared sternly.
"I said you are the new headman," he thought imperiously. "Take charge."
He waved a hand.
"And get this mess cleaned up. I want a neat village from now on."
As the man lowered his head submissively, Barra turned away, rose from
the ground, and drifted majestically toward the lake shore. He could
check on the progress of the village from his view crystal back at the
Residence.
The situation had been taken care of and there was no point in remaining
in the depressing atmosphere of the village for too long.
Besides, there was that adventure projection he hadn't finished.
Perhaps it would be of interest now.
* * * * *
As the projection faded, Barra looked around the study, then got out of
his chair and picked the crystal from its pedestal. He stood, looking at
it approvingly for a few seconds, then went over to the cabinet and set
it back in its case. For a time, he looked at the rest of the
assortment.
Finally, he shook his head. Some of them, he would sell unscanned. The
others--well, they could wait.
Yes, he thought, the record crystals had better be left alone for a
while. He hadn't finished his inspection of the Estates and the
situation at Tibara might not be an isolated case. It would be well to
make a really searching inspection. He sighed.
In fact, it might be well to make frequent searching inspections.
Shortly after his accession to the Estates, he had seen to the defense
of Kira Barra. He smiled wryly as he thought of the expense he had
incurred in securing all those power and control crystals to make up his
surrogate installations. But they had been well worth it.
He had been most thorough then, but that had been some time ago. His
last full inspection had been almost a year ago. Lately he had been
satisfying himself with spot inspections, not really going over the
Estates from border to border.
Of course, the spot inspections had been calculated to touch the
potential trouble spots and they had been productive of results, but
there might still be hidden things he should know about. This would
have to be looked into.
He turned and went back to his chair, causing it to swivel around and
face the view crystal.
There was that matter of Tibara, as far as that went. Possibly it would
be well to count that herd and identify the animals positively.
Maybe the pasturage was getting poor and he would have to instruct the
new headman to move to better lands. Those strays had looked rather
thin, now that he thought of it.
Maybe some of the other long-necks had strayed from the main herd and he
would have to have the headman send out guards to pick them up and bring
them in.
He concentrated on the viewer, swinging its scan over to the swamp where
he had driven that small herd.
They were still there, wallowing in the shallow water and grazing on the
lush vegetation. He smiled. It would be several days before their feeble
minds threw off the impression he had forced on them that this was their
proper feeding place.
Idly, he examined the beasts, then he leaned forward, studying them more
critically. They weren't the heavy, fat producers of meat normal to the
Tibara herd. Something was wrong.
These were the same general breed as the Tibara long-necks, to be sure,
but either their pasturage had been unbelievably bad or they had been
recently run--long and hard. They looked almost like draft beasts.
He frowned. If these were from the Tibara herd, he'd been missing
something for quite a while.
Thoughtfully, he caused the scan to shift. As he followed a small river,
he noted groups of the huge, greenish gray beasts as they grazed on the
tender rock ferns. Here and there, he noted herdsmen and chore boys
either watching or urging the great brutes about with their noisemakers,
keeping the herd together. He examined the scene critically, counting
and evaluating. Finally, he settled back in his chair.
The herd was all here--even to the chicks. And they were in good shape.
He smiled wryly.
Those brutes over in the swamp really didn't belong here, then. They
must have drifted into the Estates from the null, and been on their way
back. The headman-- He shrugged.
"Oh, well," he told himself, "it was time I got a new headman for
Tibara, anyway. And the discipline there will be tighter from now on."
* * * * *
He started to shift scan again, then sat up. The view was pulsing.
As he watched, the scan shifted automatically, to pick up the eastern
border of the Estates. Stretching across the landscape was a thin line
of draft saurians, each with its driver straddling its neck. The train
had halted and a heavily armored riding lizard advanced toward the
surrogate. Its rider was facing the hidden crystals.
As Barra focused on him, the man nodded.
"Master Protector?"
"That is correct." Barra activated his communicators. "I am Kio Barra,
Master of the Estates Kira Barra."
The other smiled. "I am Dar Makun, independent caravan master," he
announced. "The null turbulence forced me off route. Lost a few carriers
and several days of time. I'd like to request permission to pass over
your land. And perhaps you could favor me by selling some long-necks to
fill my train again. The brutes I've got left are a little overloaded."
Barra considered. It was not an unusual request, of course. Certain
caravans habitually came through, to do business with the Estates.
Others were often detoured by the northern null and forced to come
through Kira Barra.
Of course, the masters of the caravans were lacklanders, but they had
given little trouble in the past. And this one seemed to be a little
above the average if anything. In his own way, he was a man of
substance, for an owner master was quite different from someone who
merely guided another's train for hire.
The northern null was a menace, Barra thought, but it did have this one
advantage. The regular caravans, of course, passed with the courtesy of
the Estates, doing business on their way. But these others paid and
their pasturage and passage fees added to the income of the Estates.
In this case, the sale of a few draft saurians could be quite
profitable. He shifted the view crystals to allow two-way vision.
"To be sure." He waved a hand. "Direct your train due west to the second
river. Cross that, then follow it southward. I will meet you at the
first village you come to and we can kennel your slaves there and put
your beasts to pasture under my herdsmen. From there, it is a short
distance to the Residence."
"Thank you." Dar Makun nodded again, then turned and waved an arm.
Faintly, Barra caught the command to proceed.
He watched for a few minutes and examined the long train as it moved
over the rolling land and lumbered into a forest. Then he shifted his
scan to continue his inspection of the rest of the lands. It would be
several hours before that caravan could reach Tibara and he could scan
back and note its progress as he wished.
He relaxed in his chair, watching the panorama as the Estates unrolled
before him. Now and then, he halted the steady motion of the scanner, to
examine village or herd closely. Then he nodded in satisfaction and
continued his inspection.
The Estates, he decided, were in overall good condition. Of course,
there were a few corrections he would have to have made in the days to
come, but these could be taken care of after the departure of the
caravan.
There was that grain field over in the Zadabar section, for example.
That headman would have to be straightened out. He smiled grimly. Maybe
it would be well to create a vacancy in that village. But that could
wait for a few days.
He directed the scan back to the eastern section, tracing the route he
had given the caravan master. At last, the long line of saurians came
into view and he watched their deceptively awkward gait as the alien
crawled through a forest and came out into deep grass.
They were making far better progress than he had thought they would and
he would have to get ready if he planned to be in Tibara when they
arrived.
He was more careful of his dress than usual. This time, he decided, he'd
want quite a few protective devices. One could never be quite sure of
these caravan masters.
Of course, so long as they could plainly see the futility of any
treacherous move, they were good company and easy people to deal with,
but it would be most unwise to give one of them any opening. It just
might be he would be the one who was tired of wandering.
He waited patiently as his slave attached his shield brooches and placed
his control cap on his head, then he reached into the casket the man
held for him and took out a pair of paralysis rings, slipping one on
each of his middle fingers. At last, he dismissed the man.
He floated out of the building and let himself down on the cushions in
the rear of his speedboat. Critically, he examined the condition of the
craft. His yardboys had cleaned everything up, he noted. The canopy was
down, leaving the lines of the boat clean and sharp.
He turned his attention to the power crystal and the boat drew out of
its shelter, gained speed, and cut through the water to the distant
shoreline.
With only part of his mind concentrated on controlling the boat, Barra
looked across the lake. It was broad in expanse, dotted with islands,
and rich in marine life.
Perhaps he might persuade this Dar Makun to pick up a few loads of dried
lake fish, both for his own rations and for sale along the way to his
destination. Some of the warehouses, he had noted, were well stocked and
he'd have to arrange for some shipments soon.
* * * * *
The boat was nearing Tibara pier. He concentrated on setting it in close
to the dock, then made his way to the eastern edge of the village,
summoning the headman as he passed through the village center.
His timing had been good. The head of the long train was nearly across
the wide grassland. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind that he
might go out and meet the caravan master. But he discarded it. It would
be somewhat undignified for the master of the estate to serve as a mere
caravan guide. He stood, waiting.
He could see Dar Makun sitting between the armor fins of his riding
lizard. The reptile was one of the heavily armored breed he had
considered raising over in the northwest sector.
They were, he had been told, normally dryland creatures. Such brutes
should thrive over in the flats, where the long-necks did poorly. He
would have to consider the acquisition of some breeding stock.
The caravan master drew his mount to a halt and drifted toward the
trees. Barra examined the man closely as he approached.
He was a tall, slender man, perfectly at ease in his plain trail
clothing. A few control jewels glinted from his fingers and he wore a
small shield brooch, but there was no heavy equipment. His distorter
staff, Barra noted, was a plain rod, tipped by a small jewel.
Serviceable, to be sure, but rather short in range. Barra's lip curled a
trifle.
This man was not of really great substance, he decided. He probably had
his entire wealth tied up in this one caravan and depended on his fees
and on the sale of some few goods of his own to meet expenses.
As Dar Makun dropped to the ground near him, Barra nodded.
"I have instructed my headman to attend to your drivers and beasts," he
said. "You have personal baggage?"
The other smiled. "Thank you. I'll have one of the boys bring my pack
while the drivers pull up and unload. We can make our stack here, if you
don't mind."
As Barra nodded in agreement, Dar Makun turned, waving. He drew a deep
breath and shouted loudly, the sounds resembling those which Barra had
often heard from his slaves. The Master Protector felt a twinge of
disgust.
Of course, several of the caravan masters who did regular business at
Kira Barra shouted at their slaves at times. But somehow, he had never
become used to it. He much preferred to do business with those few who
handled their pseudomen as they did their draft beasts--quietly, and
with the dignity befitting the true race.
He waited till Dar Makun had finished with his growls and hisses. One of
the caravan drivers had swung down and was bringing a fiber cloth bundle
toward them. Barra looked at it in annoyance.
"This," he asked himself, "is his baggage?" He recovered his poise and
turned to Dar Makun.
"He can put it in the boat," he told the man. "I'll have one of my
people pick it up for you when we get to the island. Now, if you'll
follow me, the pier is over this way." He turned and floated toward the
dock.
* * * * *
As they pulled out into the lake, Dar Makun settled himself in the
cushions.
"I never realized what a big lake this is," he remarked. "I've always
made the northern swing through this part of the continent. Oh, I've
seen the lake region from the hills, of course, but--" He looked at the
water thoughtfully.
"You have quite a lot of fresh-water fish in there?"