The Players | Page 3

a major center of commerce
in the process." He kicked off his sandals, wriggled out of the baggy
native trousers, and tossed his shirt on top of them.
"No more shakedowns. Tax system's working the way it was originally
intended to, and the merchants are flocking in."
He walked toward the wall, flicking a hand out. An opening appeared,
and he ducked through it.
"Be with you in a minute, Banasel," he called over his shoulder. "Like
to get cleaned up."
Banasel nodded and went back to the workbench. He picked up a small
part, examined it, touched it gently a few times with a soft brush, and
replaced it in the device he was working on.
He tightened it into place, and was checking another component when a
slight shuffle announced his companion's return.

"Oh, yes," said Lanko. "Met your old pal, Musa. He's doing right well
for himself."
Banasel swung around. "Haven't seen him since we joined the Corps.
What's he doing?"
"Trading." Lanko opened a locker, glancing critically at the clothing
within. "He set up shop with the load of goods we gave him long ago,
and did some pretty shrewd merchandising. Now, he's planning a trip
over the Eastern Sea. He hinted at a rumor of a civilization out past
Norlar."
"Nothing out there for several thousand kilos," growled Banasel,
"except for a few little islands." He jerked a thumb toward the
workbench. "I can't show you right now, because the scanner's down
for cleaning, but there isn't even an island for the first couple thousand
K's. Currents are all wrong, too. No one could cross without
navigational equipment."
"I know," Lanko assured him. "We haven't checked over that way for a
long time, but I still remember. I didn't put it exactly that way, of
course, but I did ask Musa how he planned to get over the Eastern. And,
I got an answer." He paused as he gathered up the garments he had
discarded.
"It seems there's a new priesthood at Norlar, who've got something," he
continued. "It's all wrapped up in religious symbology, and they don't
let any details get out, but they are guiding ships out to sea, and they're
bringing them back again, loaded with goods that never originated in
the Galankar, or in any place accessible to the Galankar." He hung up
the last article of clothing and turned, a sheathed sword in his hand.
"Musa sold me this," he said, extending the hilt toward Banasel. "I
never saw anything like it on this planet. Did you?"
* * * * *
Banasel accepted the weapon, drawing it from its scabbard. He

examined the handwork on the hilt, then snapped a fingernail against
the blade. As he listened to the musical ping, the technician looked at
the weapon with more interest. Gently, he flexed it, watching for signs
of strain. Lanko grinned at him.
"Go ahead," he invited, "get rough with it. That's a sword you're
holding, Chum, not one of those bronze skull busters."
Banasel extended the sword, whipping it violently. The blade bent, then
straightened, and bent again, as it slashed through the air.
"Well," he murmured. "Something new."
He put the sword on the workbench and took an instrument from a
cabinet. For a few minutes, he busied himself taking readings and
tapping out data on his computer. He sat back, looking at the sword
curiously. At last, he glanced at the computer, then put the test
instrument he had been using back in the cabinet, taking another to
replace it. After taking more readings, he looked at the computer, then
shook his head, turning to Lanko.
"This," he said slowly, "is excellent steel. Of course, it could be an
accidental alloy, but I wouldn't think anyone on this planet could have
developed the technology to get it just so." He held the sword away
from him, looking at it closely. "Assuming an accidental alloy, an
accident in getting precisely the right degree of heat before quenching,
and someone who ground and polished with such care as to leave the
temper undisturbed, while getting this finish--Oh, it's possible, all right.
But 'tain't likely. Musa told you this came from overseas?"
"To the best of his knowledge. He got it from a trader who claimed to
have been on a voyage across the Eastern Sea."
Banasel leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. "You must
have had quite a talk with Musa. Did he remember you?"
Lanko shook his head. "Don't be foolish," he grunted. "You and I were
blotted out of his memory, remember? So are quite a few of the things

that happened around Atakar, way back when. He's got a complete past,
of course, but we're not part of it.
"No, he had a booth in the