The Players | Page 4

Karth market. I came through, just looking
things over, and recognized him. So, I picked an acquaintance. Beat
him down to about half the asking price for this sword, still leaving him
a whopping profit. He went to dinner with me, still bewailing the
rooking I'd given him. Told you, he's a trader. We had quite a talk,
certainly. But we were strangers."
"Yeah." Banasel looked off into space. "Seems funny. You and I were
born on this planet. We were brought up here, and a lot of people once
knew us. But they've all forgotten, and we don't belong any more. I'm
beginning to see what they mean by 'the lonely life of a guardsman.'"
He was silent for a time, then looked at his companion.
"Do you think these priests at Norlar might be in our line of business?"
"Could be," nodded Lanko. "There's a lot of seafaring out of Konassa,
and there are several other busy seaports we know of. But no one in any
of them ever heard of navigation out of sight of land, let alone trying it.
There's nothing but pilotage, and even that's pretty sketchy. And, there's
this thing." He crossed to the workbench, picked up the sword, and
stroked its blade.
"Normally," he mused, "technical knowledge gets around. Part of it's
developed here, part there. Then someone comes along and puts it
together. And someone else adds to it. And so on.
"Then, there are other times, when there's an abnormal source, or where
there are unusual conditions, and knowledge is very closely guarded.
This might be one of those cases, and those priests might be fronting
for someone very much in our line of business." He broke off.
"Any maedli hot?"
"Sure." Banasel picked a pot from the heater and poured two cups.

"Think we should set up a base near Norlar and have a look?"
"Probably be a good idea." Lanko accepted a cup, took a sip, and shook
his head violently.
"Ouch! I said hot, not boiling." He blew on the cup and set it aside to
steam itself cool.
"These mountains were an excellent base," he continued, "but this area
seems to be developing perfectly. There's no outside interference, all
traces of former interference have been eliminated, and there's very
little excuse for us to hang around." He picked up the cup again,
cautiously sampling its contents. "And it's about time we moved around
and checked on the rest of the planet."
Banasel turned back to the workbench. "Good idea," he agreed. "I'll get
this scanner set up again, and we'll be ready to load out." He picked up
his tools. "As I remember, Norlar has a mountainous backbone where
no one ever goes. We should be able to set up right on the island."
* * * * *
On the eastern slope of the Midra Kran, a cloud of dust paced a caravan,
which wound up the trail, through a pass. The treachery of the narrow
path was testified to by an occasional slither, followed by a startled
curse.
Musa stood in his stirrups, looking ahead at the long trail which twisted
a little farther up, then dropped to the wide Jogurthan plateau. Far
ahead, over the poorly marked way, he knew, was another range, the
Soruna Kran, which blocked his way to the Eastern Sea.
He looked back at the straggling caravan.
"Better get them to close up, Baro," he remarked. "We'd be in a lot of
trouble if a robber band caught us scattered like this."
The other trader nodded and turned his mount. Then, he paused as

shouts came from the rear of the line. Mixed with the shouting was the
clatter of weapons.
"Come on," cried Musa. "It's happened."
He kicked his mount in the ribs, and swung about, starting up the steep
bank. The bandits would have bowmen posted to deal with anyone who
might try to get back along the narrow path, and he had no desire to test
the accuracy of their aim.
As his beast scrambled up the bank, Musa saw a man standing on a
pinnacle, alertly watching the center of the caravan. His guess had been
right. The bandit leader's strategy had been to cut the caravan in two,
and to deal with the rear guard first. As the watcher started to aim at
something down on the trail, Musa quickly raised his own bow and sent
an arrow to cut the man down before he could fire.
It was a good shot. The man made no sound as the arrow struck, but
clawed for an instant at the shaft in his side, then dropped, to slide
down the face of a low cliff. Musa, followed by his guards, stormed up
the slope.
They went through a saddle