The Players

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The Players Page 4

by Everett B. Cole

and yet, who must ply their trade. But he talkedgrandly of the immense powers of the baubles he vended, seeming to holdthem in a sort of reverence. And, when he had spread his arms, there hadbeen a short-lived hint of suppressed power. Musa shuddered a little.

  "But I must go to the temple now, if I am to make arrangements for myvoyage," he added apologetically. He turned away, then hurried down thestreet.

  Banasel watched him go, a slight smile growing on his face.

  "I don't blame you, Pal," he chuckled softly. "I'd feel the same waymyself."

  He glanced around noting a narrow alley. Casually, he walked into it,then looked around carefully. No one could observe him. He straightened,dropping the slightly disreputable, hangdog manner, then reached for hisbody shield controls.

  Quickly, he cut out visibility, then actuated the levitator modulationand narrowed out of the alley, rose over the city, and headed toward therugged mountains that formed the backbone of the island.

  * * * * *

  Lanko was waiting, and quickly lowered the base shield.

  "Well," he asked, "how did it go?"

  "I found him." Banasel walked over to the cabinets, and started sortingthe goods he had been carrying. "Sold him a miniature communicator. Now,I hope he wears the thing."

  "We'll have to keep a close watch on him," commented Lanko, "just incase he puts it in his luggage and forgets about it. Did you give him agood sales talk?"

  "Sure. Told him to wear it always. I pawed the air, raved a little, andmade him think I was crazy. But I've an idea he'll remember and grab thething if he sees trouble coming." Banasel put the last ornament in itsplace, and started unhooking his personal equipment. Then, he turned.

  "Look," he commented, "why bother with all this mystic business? We'vegot mentacoms. Why not just clamp onto him, and keep track of him thatway? It'd be a lot simpler. Less chance of a slip, too."

  "Yeah, sure it would." Lanko gave his companion a disgusted look. "Buthave you ever tried that little trick?"

  "No. I never had the occasion, but I've seen guardsmen run remotesurveillances, and even exert control when necessary. They didn't haveany trouble. We could try it, anyway."

  Lanko sat up. "We could try it," he admitted, "but I know what wouldhappen. I did try it once, and I found out a lot of things--quick." Helooked into space for a moment. "How old are you, Banasel?"

  "Why, you know that. I'm forty-one."

  Lanko nodded. "So am I," he said. "And our civilization is a fewthousand years old. And our species is somewhat older than that. We werein basic Guard training, and later in specialist philosophical trainingtogether. It took ten years, remember?"

  "Sure. I remember every minute of it."

  "Of course you do. It was that kind of training. But how old do youthink some of those young guardsmen we worked with were?"

  "Why, most of 'em were kids, fresh from school."

  "That they were. But how many years--our years--had they spent in theirschooling? How old were the civilizations they came from? And how oldwere their species?"

  Lanko eyed him wryly.

  Banasel looked thoughtfully across the room. "I never thought of it thatway. Why, I suppose some of their forefathers were worrying about spacetravel before this planet was able to support life. And, come to thinkof it, I remember one of them making a casual remark about 'just aperiod ago,' when he was starting citizen training."

  "That's what I mean." Lanko nodded emphatically. "'Just a period.' Onlyten or twelve normal lifetimes for our kind of people. And hiscivilization's just as old compared to ours as he is compared tous--older, even.

  "During that period he was so casual about, he was learning--practicingwith his mind, so that the older citizens of the galaxy could make fullcontact with him without fear of injuring his mentality. He was learningconcepts that he wouldn't dare even suggest to you or to me. Finally,after a few more periods, he'll begin to become mature. Do you think wecould pick up all the knowledge and training back of his handling oftechnical equipment in a mere ten years of training?"

  Banasel reached up, taking the small circlet from his head. He held itin his hand, looking at it with increased respect.

  "You know," he admitted, "I really hadn't thought of it that way. Theytaught me to repair these things, among other pieces of equipment, andmost of the construction is actually simple. They taught me a few usesfor it, and I thought I understood it.

  "Of course, I knew we were in contact with an advanced culture, and Iknew that most of those guys we treated so casually had something thattook a long time in the getting, but I didn't stop to think of the realstretch of time and study involved." He leaned back, replacing thementacom on his head. "Somehow, they didn't make it apparent."

  "Of course they didn't." Lanko spread his hands a little. "One doesn'tdeliberately give children a feeling of inferiority."

  "Yeah. Will we ever learn?"

  "Some. Some day. But we've got a long, lonely road to travel first."Lanko stood up and adjusted the communicator.

  "Right now, though, we'd better keep tabs on Musa. In fact, we'd betterfollow him when he leaves here."

  * * * * *

  The temple of Kondaro, the sea god, had been built at the edge of acliff, so that it overlooked the Eastern Sea. The huge, white domefurnished a landmark for mariners far out at sea, and dominated thewaterfront of Norlar. Atop the dome, a torch provided a beacon torelieve the blackness of moonless nights. This was the home of thecrimson priests, and the center of guidance for all who wished to saileastward.

  Musa stood for some time, admiring the temple, then walked between thecarefully clipped hedges and up the long line of steps leading to thearched entrance.

  Again, he stopped. Overhead, the curved ceiling of the main dome waslower than its outer dimensions would lead one to believe, but Musahardly noticed that. He gazed about the main rotunda.

  It was predominantly blue. The dome was a smooth, blue sky, and thesmooth blueness continued down the walls. The white stone steps wereterminated at the edges of a mosaic sea, which stretched to the farwalls, broken only by a large statue of the sea god. Kondaro stood inthe center of his temple, facing the entrance. One arm stretched out,the hand holding a torch, while the other arm cradled one of the greatships favored by the god. Beneath one foot was one of the batlike seademons, its face mirroring ultimate despair. About the feet lappedconventionally sculptured waves, which melted into the mosaic, to becontinued to the walls by the pattern of the tiles. At the far side ofthe rotunda, the double stairs, which led to bronze doors, were almostinconspicuous, seeming to be a vaguely appearing mirage on the horizonof a limitless sea.

  The trader looked at the far side, then down, and hesitated, feeling asthough he were about to walk on water. Then, he turned, remembering thepedestal nearby. A crimson bowl rested on this stand, and beside it wasa slave in the crimson loincloth which marked the menials of Kondaro.

  Musa stepped over to the pedestal, dropped a coin into the bowl, andwalked toward the rear of the temple, making proper obeisance to thehuge statue. A young priest approached him.

  "I crave blessings for a voyage I propose to take," announced thetrader.

  The priest inclined his head.

  "Very well, Traveler, follow me."

  He led the way to a small office. An older priest sat at a large table,reading a tablet. Conveniently placed were writing materials, and on thetable before him was another votive bowl. Musa dropped a coin into thebowl, and the priest looked up.

  "I bring a voyager, O, Wise One," said the young priest.

  "It is well," the older priest acknowledged in a deep voice. He turnedto Musa. "Your name, Voyager?"

  Musa gave his name, his age, the amount of his goods, and an account ofhis actions since his arrival in Tanagor. At the mention of Tonda, thepriest nodded.

  "The actions of Tonda have been most exemplary for the past severalseasons," he remarked. "He is a good man, but he lacks the
proper spiritof sacrifice." He concluded his writing.

  "Well, then, Musa, you may go to those who sail ships with the blessingof Kondaro upon you. I shall only caution you as to the observance ofthe rites and laws for those who sail the Great Sea. Go now, in peace."

  As Musa turned, the younger priest spoke. "I will lead you to one whowill give you further guidance," he said.

  Musa followed him to another small room, where he met still anotherpriest. This man, he discovered, was a shrewd trader in his own right.He was familiar with goods and their values, and in addition to therites he described, he presented definite advice as to what to

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