haven't been able to get in touch with him thismorning."
Barra blinked, then activated the new probe. He would have to find outwhat this man knew--how much others might know. Abruptly, he felt aviolent return of the fear sickness which had temporarily subsided withthe death of Dar Girdek.
The probe was met by an impenetrable barrier. Barra's eyes widened. Thisman was no halfman, either. He was one of the great psionics.Frantically, Barra's thought retraced the past.
Was this an investigator from the Council? Was he, Kio Barra, suspect?But how had any leak occurred? The fear grew, till he could almost smellthe sour stench of it. And with it, came a buoying lift of pure fury.
This man may have unmasked him, to be sure. The Council might even nowbe sending men to take him, but this spy would never know the results ofhis work. He would profit nothing here.
He flipped the distorter from under his arm.
* * * * *
As the Master Protector started to raise his distorter, Naran felt asharp twinge of regret. He had resigned himself to this, and had madehis preparations, but he hated to leave Barra to someone else. Ofcourse, the man had no chance now. The disturbance he had keyed himselfto make if he were hit with a distorter would be heard by every scholarin Ganiadur, and by half the Council. But--
Suddenly, he felt a sort of pity for the killer before him. The guywasn't really altogether to blame. He'd been living for all these yearswith everything against him.
Born into a psionic family, he had been the family skeleton--a thing ofdisgrace--to be hidden from the rest of the world and given tolerantprotection.
And when this barely tolerated being had managed somehow to gain powerand get amplifying devices? Well--
The crystal was leveled at him now. He looked at it indifferently,thinking of the man who held it.
"Poor, lonesome weakling!"
Abruptly, the clearing was lit up by a blinding red glare. Naran closedhis eyes against the searing light. Seconds went by and he opened hiseyes again, looking about the village in confusion.
Had he somehow managed to retain full consciousness of ego, even afterbeing reduced by a distorter beam? Was there a release into some otherstate of being? He had felt no--
He looked at Kio Barra. The man stood, slack-faced, still holding hisdistorter rod, but gradually allowing it to sag toward the ground. Naranshook his head.
"Now, what goes on?"
He probed at the man's mind.
There was consciousness. The man could think, but the thoughts were dimand blurred, with no trace of psionic carrier. The control and amplifierjewels he wore had lost their inner fire--were merely dull, lifelessreflectors of the sunlight. This man could do no more toward bringinglife to the jewels than could the village headman--perhaps, even less.
Naran looked at him in unbelieving confusion, then turned as a sudden,screaming thought struck his mind.
"A stinking, high-nosed witchman! And we thought he was one of us! Atewith him. Argued with him. Even fought with him. I've got to get away.Got to!"
There was desperation in the thought. And there were hatred overtones,which blended, then swelled.
As the terrorized ululation went on, Naran swung his head, locating thesource. He'd have to do something about that--fast. The fellow wouldreally demoralize the caravan now--even infect the big saurians--cause astampede.
This guy had some power of projection and his terror was intensifying ittill anyone could receive the disturbing impulses, even though completeunderstanding might be lacking.
Naran lifted himself from the ground, arrowing rapidly toward thecaravan, his mind already forming the thoughts which he hoped wouldsoothe the frantic fear and--at least to some degree--allay the frenzyof hatred that swelled and became stronger and stronger.
Barra could wait.
* * * * *
As Barra swung his distorter to bear, he concentrated on the violentpulse needed to trigger the jewel, his mind closed to all else. Heturned his attention on his target.
Suddenly, he recognized the curiously tender expression which had formedon the face of the man before him.
Frantically, he tried to revise his thoughts--to recall the blaze ofenergy he had concentrated to build up.
It was too late.
With a sense of despair, he recognized the sudden, lifting, twistingagony that accompanied the flare of the overloaded power crystal. For aneternal instant, his universe was a blinding, screaming, red nightmare.
The flare died and he watched dully as the unharmed man before himlooked about unbelievingly, then looked back to carefully examine him.
"Oh," he told himself dully. "I suppose they'll take care of me, butwhat of it? They'll put me somewhere. I'll lose everything. It'll bejust like the place Boemar thought of sending me, when I--"
Furiously, he tried to summon some tiny bit of energy to activate thedistorter.
Nothing happened.
The man whose pity had destroyed him suddenly frowned, then turned anddarted away. Dully, Barra watched him, then he turned, to look aroundthe village. His face contorted in new terror.
Some of the village men were moving toward him, curious expressions ontheir faces. He backed away from them and turned.
A few more had moved to block his path.
They were grunting and hissing to each other. Barra looked from face toface, then looked over toward the well.
There were men over there, too, by the pile of stones. The old man whoworked on the retaining walls of the village had picked up some of hisbuilding material.
He stood, eying Barra calculatingly, a stone poised in each hand.
THE END
The Weakling Page 10