by Andre Norton
“They set to work breeding, cross-breeding, and indeed a very intelligent sardine resulted. Those which would cooperate with Donnels rendered very valuable service, enabling him to can fish without going to the trouble of catching them himself.
“A few of the fish, the most intelligent, preferred freedom and founded a colony near the dike. Donnels soon learned of this colony because all but the most servile of his Judas fish swam off and joined their brothers.
“Taming these fish, teaching them, was a laborious task and Donnels decided to exterminate the colony. He also feared that the intelligent fish might outnumber the normal ones and refuse to be led blindly into his concentration pond. He tried blasting and poison from the surface but was unsuccessful, as the fish could see him coming. So he ordered a diving-suit from Rhodope.
“Meanwhile the fish had launched a counter-offensive. They had no weapons—they could not attack Donnels directly. But they knew the purpose of the cannery, that it packed sardines for human consumption.
“They developed the skill to build the bubbles on the dike—a secretion, I believe—and prepare a series of offensive substances. Then a great number of ordinary sardines were captured, packed with these substances, sent into the cannery to be canned and exported.”
Joel Karamor rose abruptly to his feet, once more paced the glossy floor. “And what happened to Naile?”
“He showed up a day later. A mere tool.”
Karamor shook his head. “I suppose the plant is a total loss. Did you make arrangements to evacuate the help?”
Magnus Ridolph widened his eyes in surprise. “None whatever. Was I supposed to do so?”
“I gave you full powers,” snapped Karamor. “You should have seen to it.”
A buzzer sounded. Karamor pushed the button. A soft voice spoke. Karamor’s brindle-gray hair rose in a startled ruff.
“Cargo of canned sardines? Hold on.” He turned to Magnus Ridolph. “Who dispatched the sardines? What’s going on here—and there?”
Magnus Ridolph shrugged. “The cannery is functioning as before—under new management. Using my powers I made the necessary arrangements. Your share of the profits shall be as before.” Karamor halted in mid-stride. “So? And who is my partner? Naile?”
“By no means,” said Magnus Ridolph. “He has nothing to offer.”
“Who then?” bellowed Karamor.
“Naturally, the colony of intelligent sardines I told you about.”
“What.”
“Yes,” said Magnus Ridolph. “You are now associated commercially with a shoal of sardines. The Sardine-Karamor Company.”
“My word,” husked Karamor. “My word.”
“The advantages to all concerned are obvious,” said Magnus Ridolph. “You are assured of efficient management with high-grade raw material guaranteed. The sardines receive whatever civilized amenities they desire.”
Karamor was silent for some minutes. He turned a narrow eye on the bland Magnus Ridolph.
“I detect the Ridolph touch in this scheme. The characteristic lack of principle, the calculated outing of orthodox practice . . .”
“Tut, tut,” said Magnus Ridolph. “Not at all, not at all.” Karamor snorted. “Do you deny that the whole program was your idea?”
“Well,” said Magnus Ridolph carefully, “I admit that I pointed out to the fishes the advantages of the arrangement.”
[*] The catalogue of Pomukka-Dhen, last of the Golwana emperors, listed seven thousand Century pieces, 136 Millennium pieces, and fourteen Ten-Thousand-Year pieces. A rumor had reached Magnus Ridolph of a Hundred-Thousand-Year work nearing completion in the Backlands, a gigantic carved tourmaline.
ABOUT THE EDITOR
ANDRE NORTON was born in Cleveland, Ohio, where she now resides. She is editor of the Gnome Press teen-age science-fiction department, as well as author and editor of more than a dozen books of mystery, adventure, and science fiction. World has published her edition of Malcolm Jameson’s Bullard of the Space Patrol, and Space Service and Space Pioneers, which with Space Police comprise a trilogy of science-fiction anthologies. Miss Norton was a children’s librarian at the Cleveland Public Library, and is an avid student and collector of science fiction.