The Players
Page 11
was a junior priest. He had been taught to speak of sea demons,and to explain their actions, but he had not been told to believe inthem.
He wondered if the great Kondaro really existed, and if he did, justwhat he might think of Dontor and of the ship he had so recentlycontrolled. The thought crossed his mind that a real god might besomewhat critical of the priesthood of the sea.
"Something," he mused aloud, "will have to be done to prevent loss offaith."
* * * * *
_"Well," remarked Lanko as he snapped the tractor off. "That's the firsthandful of sand for the cook pot."_
* * * * *
Sira Nal drummed impatiently on the table before him.
"I thought you could handle routine operations," he said bitingly. "Now,you tell me you've been missing ship after ship. What happened to them?"
The high priest shook his head. "We haven't been able to find out, sir."
"Do you mean to tell me you haven't anything to report on them?"
"We have sent out investigating ships, sir."
"And?"
"They haven't reported back, sir."
Sira Nal's checks paled slightly with rage as he stared at hisunderling.
"Miron," he snapped, "I'm not going to tell you exactly what to do, orhow. You're supposed to know how to treat emergencies, not to call meany time something outside of routine happens. I want a report on thoseships tomorrow morning." He glanced out of the window. "I don't care howyou do it, but find out what happened, and I don't ever want to hear youadmit again that you can't account for any ship I ask about. Is thatclear?"
Miron nodded unhappily. "Yes, sir." He bowed and backed out of the room.
He forced himself to suppress his anger as he gently closed the door.Then, he stood for a moment, fists clenched, as he directed a furiousgaze at the panels.
"How?" he thought. "How does he expect me to know what's going on at seaunless ships come in to give me information, or I am able to go outpersonally. And how does he expect me to make a personal check in onenight?"
He started walking along the corridor. "I have no supernatural powers,and he knows it. He's the prophet. Wish I'd never--"
He looked at the walls around him, then shook his head. No use thinkingof that. None had ever successfully left the service of Kondaro. Hecontinued to a stair, mounted it, then climbed ladders, to finally comeout at the observation platform atop the temple. The observer bowed ashis superior entered the little room just below the torch.
"Have there been any arrivals?"
"None, sir. I've seen no sails."
"I am going to send you an acolyte. If you see anything, send him to meimmediately." Miron turned to go back to his quarters.
* * * * *
After Miron's departure, Sira Nal sat for a time, still staring at theclosed door. He had caught the wave of frustrated rage, and had almostresponded for a second. But, he was forced to admit, the priest hadjustification. He had organized his forces adequately--had been a usefulpiece, within his limitations.
"I wonder," mused Sira Nal, "if Buron's pulling a sneak punch." Hetilted his head. "It would be a little foul, but he might try somethinglike that." He reviewed the rules they had agreed upon.
After all, this phase of his operation was outside of the home zone, andhe was actually vulnerable to attack, even this early. He had assumedthat Buron would be too busy developing his own pieces to spend any timeon an offensive move at this stage. Of course, direct intervention was alittle unethical, but Buron might try it.
He had thought his opponent would be too occupied to notice a move atthis remote part of the board. And he had established this advance baseby direct intervention, too. If Buron had noticed, and if he had checkedNal's methods, he might have felt justified, and have taken time for aquick, disruptive move. And Sira Nal was forced to admit that such amove might be allowed by Kir. It might be even approved, and hailed as abrilliant counter.
He rose to his feet, pacing about the room. If this were a move byBuron, the priesthood would be powerless to counter. It would takedirect action by the player, of course. He grumbled to himself.
"Can't let this development be wasted. I'd lose too much time. I'll haveto check personally."
He crossed to the window, opened it, and stepped out on the balcony.
Outside, the sun glinted on the harbor. A ship was standing out to sea,sails set to pick up the breeze from the headland. Sira Nal looked overtoward the shipyards. It was a well organized secondary base, and itwould probably develop into a highly valuable position. Somehow, hedoubted that Buron would have been able to do as well, considering thetime factor. He shook his head. This must be retained.
He threw the robe back, checked his equipment belt, adjusted his bodyshield, and stepped off the balcony, activating his levitationmodulator. He swung around the outgoing ship, noting the activity aboardwith approval, then headed seaward, to follow the route he hadprescribed for his navigators. Somewhere out there, he would undoubtedlyfind Buron, poised to strike at any ship which bore the red and gold ofKondaro.
And when he did find him, he knew, he would have to outline a countermove which would force immunity to his sea lanes. He considered thepossibilities as he sped over the sea.
* * * * *
Musa sat before the detector, idly watching the vague patterns that grewand collapsed on the viewscreen. The scanner, Lanko had explained,picked up ghost images from heated air masses, or from clouds, but itdiscriminated against them, refusing to form a definite image unless amaterial body came within range. Then, it indicated range and azimuth,checked the body against the predetermined data, and the selectivemagnification circuits cut in.
As Musa watched, a sea bird appeared on the screen, outlined sharplyagainst the darkness of the sea. The viewscreen tracked it for aninstant, then continued its scan. Another body showed, seeming to comefrom under the sea. Musa looked at it curiously, then noticed that therange marks had tripped on. The screen was holding the object at center.A slight glow appeared, obscuring visual detail, and more marks showedin the legend. Musa turned around.
"Banasel," he called, "what's this?"
Banasel was engaged in his usual pastime of tinkering with theequipment. He looked around, then walked quickly over to the screen, tomake adjustments. The object came into sharp focus, revealing itself asa man in the robes of Kondaro. Range and azimuth lines became clearlydefined, and a graph showed in the legend space. Banasel glanced down atthe dials.
"Hey, Lanko," he called, "we've got a customer."
"Where?" Lanko came out of the mess compartment.
"About seventy-one, true, and coming in fast. Range, about a hundredK's." Banasel twisted dials, watching the result on the screen. "Looksas though our friend's coming in for a conference."
"Screens?"
"Personal body shield. Probably a Morei twelve. Nothing special."
Lanko got into the gunner's chair and punched a button. The sight screenlit, showing the approaching body clearly. He turned a knob, increasingmagnification.
"All dressed up in his ceremonial robes, too," he laughed. "This kidcould have done well as a clothing designer."
He adjusted a few knobs, examining a meter. Then, he reached for theweapon's grip.
"No point in discussing matters with him now. He can talk after we gethim in, and he's just about in range now." He brought the hair-lines onthe viewscreen to center on the approaching figure, and squeezed thegrip.
* * * * *
Sira Nal felt the sudden pressure. Annoyed, he reached to his belt, toturn his shield to full power. This was highly unethical. Buron shouldcertainly know better than to resort to personal attack. Such actioncould be protested, and Sira Nal could demand concessions.
He looked ahead, searchingly. The horizon ahead was broken by a faintcloud, which indicated the islands, but there was no evidence of hisop
ponent. He shook his head, and started to rise, but his shield wasfailing. Suddenly, he became aware of the overheating generator pack.Something was decidedly wrong. He reached for his own hand weapon, stillsearching for his attacker. At last, he noticed a slight shimmer, deadahead. He pointed the weapon.
"Now, now," cautioned a voice, "you could get hurt that way. Close downyour shield and relax. This is a guard flier. You're in arrest tractor."
Sira Nal recognized that the tractor was pulling him ahead. Hisgenerator pack was heating up dangerously.
He was being captured!
Furiously, he thought of the attacks he had made in similar manner, inthis same area. He still could remember the horrified