Astounding Science Fiction Stories Vol 1, page 270
Barra listened to the meaningless chatter of grunts and hisses, then disregarded the sounds. They formed, he had been told, a sort of elementary code of communication. He coughed disparagingly. Only some subhuman could bring himself to study such things.
Of course, he knew that some lacklanders could make vocal converse with the pseudomen and caravan masters seemed to do it as a regular thing, but he could see no point in such effort. He could make his demands known without lowering himself by making idiotic noises.
His communicator crystals would drive simple thoughts into even the thick skulls of his slaves. And he could--and did--thus get obedience and performance from those slaves by using normal, sensible means as befitted one of the race of true men.
And what would one want of the pseudomen other than obedience? Would one perhaps wish to discuss matters of abstract interest with these beast men? He regarded the scene with growing irritation.
Now, he remembered. It was one of those days of rest which some idiot in the Council had once sponsored. And a group of soft-headed fools had concurred, so that one now had to tolerate periodic days of idleness.
Times had changed, he thought. There had been a time when slaves were slaves and a man could expect to get work from them in return for his protection and support.
But even with these new, soft laws, herds must be guarded--especially with that null expanding as it was. Even some lackland idiot should be able to understand that much.
He turned his attention to the headman's hut.
The man was there. Surrounded by a few villagers, he squatted before his flimsy, frond-roofed hut, his mouth in grotesque motion. Now, he stopped his noisemaking and poised his head. Then he nodded, looking about the village.
Obviously, he was taking his ease and allowing his people to do as they would, without supervision.
Barra started to concentrate on the surrogate, to make his wishes and his displeasure known. Then he turned impatiently from the crystal, seizing his staff. Efficient as the surrogates were, there were some things better attended to in person.
* * * * *
He got to his feet and strode angrily out of the study, sending a peremptory summons before him. As he entered the wide hallway, an elderly slave came toward him. Barra looked at the man imperiously.
"My cloak," he demanded, "and the cap of power."
He projected the image of his fiber cloak and of the heavy gold headpiece with its precisely positioned crystals, being careful to note the red, green and blue glow of the various jewels. Meticulously, he filled in details of the gracefully formed filigree which formed mounts to support the glowing spheres. And he indicated the padded headpiece with its incrustation of crystal carbon, so his servitor could make no mistake. The man was more sensitive than one of the village slaves, but even so, he was merely a pseudoman and had to have things carefully delineated for him.
As the man walked toward a closet, Barra looked after him unhappily. The heavy power and control circlet was unnecessary in the Residence, for amplifiers installed in the building took care of all requirements. But outside, in the village and fields, a portable source of power and control was indispensable and this heavy gold cap was the best device he had been able to find.
Even so, he hated to wear the circlet. The massive crystals mounted on their supporting points weighed a couple of pounds by themselves and though the gold insulating supports were designed as finely as possible, the metal was still massive and heavy. It was a definite strain on his neck muscles to wear the thing and he always got a headache from it.
For an instant, envy of the powerful psionics crossed his mind. There were, he knew, those who required no control or power devices, being able to govern and direct psionic forces without aid. But his powers, though effective as any, required amplification and when he went out of the Residence it was essential that he have the cap with him.
Proper and forceful handling of the things of the Estates, both animate and inanimate, demanded considerable psionic power and this made the large red power crystal at the center of his cap most necessary.
Besides, simultaneous control problems could be difficult--sometimes even almost impossible--without the co-ordinating crystals which were inset at the periphery of the headband.
And there was the possibility that he might meet some trespassing lacklander who might have to be impressed with the resources of the master of Kira Barra. He knew of more than one instance wherein a Master Protector had been overcome by some predatory lackland wanderer, who had then managed by one means or another to secure his own accession to the estates of his victim. He smiled grimly.
Carelessness could be costly. He had proved that to his brother.
Kio Barra still remembered the first time he had quarreled violently with Boemar. He still remembered the gentle, sympathetic smile and the sudden, twisting agony that had shot through him as his power crystal overloaded. The flare of energy had left him incapable of so much as receiving a strongly driven thought for many days.
He laughed. But, poor, soft fool that he had been, Boemar had carefully nursed his brother's mind back to strength again.
Yes, Boemar had been a powerful man, but a very unwise one. And he had forgotten the one great strength of his weaker brother--a strength that had grown as Leuwan aged. And so, it was Leuwan who was Kio Barra.
But such a thing would never again happen at Kira Barra. With his controls and amplifiers, he was more than a match for the most powerful of the great psionics--so long as they didn't meet him with affectionate sympathy.
He stood silently as the servitor put the cap on his head and placed the cloak about his shoulders. Then, tucking his heavy duty distorter under his arm, he turned toward the outer door. The control jewels on his cap burned with inner fire as he raised himself a few inches from the floor and floated out toward the dock.
* * * * *
Not far from the forest shaded village of Tibara, logs had been lashed together to form a pier which jutted from the shore and provided a mooring for the hollowed logs used by men of the village in harvesting the fish of the lake. Several boats nested here, their bows pointing toward the fender logs of the pier. More were drawn up on the gravel of the shore, where they lay, bottoms upward, that they might dry and be cleaned.
A few villagers squatted by their boats and near the pier. Others were by the nets which had been spread over the gravel to dry.
One large section of the pier was vacant. Always, this area was reserved for the use of the Lord of the Mountain Lake.
As Barra's boat sped through the water, he concentrated his attention on the logs of the pier, urging his boat to increasing speed. The sharp prow rose high in the water, a long vee of foam extending from it, to spread out far behind the racing boat.
As the bow loomed almost over the floating logs, Barra abruptly transferred his focus of attention to his right rear, pulling with all the power of the boat's drive crystals. The craft swung violently, throwing a solid sheet of water over pier and shore, drenching the logs and the men about them.
Then the bow settled and the boat lay dead in the water, less than an inch from the pier's fender logs.
Barra studied the space between boat and logs for an instant, then nodded in satisfaction. It was an adequate landing by anyone's standards.
His tension somewhat relieved, he raised himself from the boat and hovered over the dock.
Sternly, he looked at the villagers who were now on their feet, brushing water from their heads and faces. They ceased their movements, eying him apprehensively and he motioned imperiously toward the boat.
"Secure it!"
The jewels of his control cap glowed briefly, amplifying and radiating the thought.
The villagers winced, then two of them moved to obey the command. Barra turned his attention away and arrowed toward the screen of trees which partially concealed the village proper.
As he dropped to the ground in the clearing before the headman's hut, men and women looked at him, then edged toward their homes. He ignored them, centering his attention on the headman himself.
The man had gotten to his feet and was anxiously studying his master's face.
For a few seconds, Barra examined the man. He was old. He had been headman of the village under the old Master Protector, his father--and his brother had seen no reason for change, allowing the aging headman to remain in charge of the welfare of his people.
But this was in the long ago. Both of the older Kio Barra had been soft, slack men, seeking no more than average results. He, Leuwan, was different--more exacting--more demanding of positive returns from the Estates.
Oh, to be sure, Kira Barra had somehow prospered under the soft hands of his predecessors, despite their coddling of the subhuman pseudomen, but there had been many laxities which had infuriated Leuwan, even when he was a mere youth. He frowned thoughtfully.
Of course, if those two hadn't been so soft and tolerant, he would have been something other than Lord of the Mountain Lake. He would have had to find other activities elsewhere. He dropped the line of thought.
This was not taking care of the situation.
He put his full attention on the man before him, driving a demand with full power of cap amplifier.
* * * * *
"Why are all your people idling away their time? Where are your herdsmen and guards?"
The headman's face tensed with effort. He waved a hand southward and made meaningless noises. Faintly, the thought came through to Barra.
"In south forest, with herd. Not idle, is rest day. Few work."
Barra looked angrily at the man. Did this fool actually think he could evade and lie his way out of the trouble his obvious failure to supervise had brought? He jabbed a thumb northward.
"What about that herd drifting toward the north river?" The two green communicator crystals gleamed with cold fire.
The headman looked confused. "Not north," came the blurred thought. "No herd north. All south forest, near swamp. One-hand boys watch. Some guard. Is rest day."
Unbelievingly Barra stared at the pseudoman. He was actually persisting in his effort to lie away his failure. Or was he attempting some sort of defiance? Had his father and brother tolerated such things as this, or was this something new, stemming from the man's age? Or, perhaps, he was trying the temper of the Master Protector, to see how far he could go in encroaching on authority.
He would deal with this--and now!
Abruptly, he turned away, to direct his attention to the central surrogate. It was equipped with a projector crystal.
The air in the clearing glowed and a scene formed in the open space. Unmistakably, it was the northern part of Kira Barra. The lake was shown, and sufficient landmarks to make the location obvious, even to a pseudoman. Carefully, Barra prevented any trace of the blank, swirling null from intruding on the scene. Perhaps the subhuman creature before him knew something of its properties, but there was no point in making these things too obvious.
He focused the scene on the stream and brought the approaching herd into the picture, then he flashed in his own face, watching. And he brought the view down closely enough to indicate that no human creature was near the herd. Finally, he turned his attention to the headman again.
"There was the herd. Where were your people?"
The old man shook his head incredulously, then turned toward one of the few men who still remained in the clearing.
He made a series of noises and the other nodded. There were more of the growls and hisses, then the headman waved a hand southward and the other nodded again and turned away, to run into the trees and disappear.
The headman faced Barra again.
"Send man," he thought laboriously. "Be sure herd is still south." He pointed toward the area where the projection had been.
"That not herd," he thought. "That other herd. Never see before."
* * * * *
Barra scowled furiously.
"You incapable imbecile! You dare to call your master a liar?"
He swung about, his furious gaze scanning the village. The pile of stones he had noticed before caught his attention. He focused on it.
A few stones rose into the air and flew toward the headman.
The old man faced about, his eyes widening in sudden fear. He dodged one of the flying stones, then turned to flee.
Barra flicked a second control on him briefly and the flight was halted.
More stones flew, making thudding sounds as they struck, then sailing away, to gain velocity before they curved back, to strike again.
At last, Barra turned from the litter of rock about the formless mass on the ground. He stared around the village, the fury slowly ebbing within him.
A few faces could be seen, peeping from windows and from between trees. He motioned.
"All villagers," he ordered. "Here before me. Now!" He waited impatiently as people reluctantly came from their huts and out of the trees, to approach the clearing.
At last, the villagers were assembled. Barra looked them over, identifying each as he looked at him. Apart from the others, one of the younger herd guards stood close to his woman. Barra looked at him thoughtfully.
This man, he had noted, was obeyed by both herds and herdsmen. He had seen him at work, as he had seen all the villagers, and obviously, the man was capable of quick decisions--as quick, that was, as any pseudoman could be. He pointed.
"This village needs a new headman," he thought peremptorily. "You will take charge of it."
The man looked toward the huddled mass in the center of the litter of rocks, then looked back at his woman. A faint wave of reluctance came to Barra, who stared sternly.
"I said you are the new headman," he thought imperiously. "Take charge." He waved a hand.
"And get this mess cleaned up. I want a neat village from now on."
As the man lowered his head submissively, Barra turned away, rose from the ground, and drifted majestically toward the lake shore. He could check on the progress of the village from his view crystal back at the Residence.
The situation had been taken care of and there was no point in remaining in the depressing atmosphere of the village for too long.
Besides, there was that adventure projection he hadn't finished. Perhaps it would be of interest now.
* * * * *
As the projection faded, Barra looked around the study, then got out of his chair and picked the crystal from its pedestal. He stood, looking at it approvingly for a few seconds, then went over to the cabinet and set it back in its case. For a time, he looked at the rest of the assortment.
Finally, he shook his head. Some of them, he would sell unscanned. The others--well, they could wait.
Yes, he thought, the record crystals had better be left alone for a while. He hadn't finished his inspection of the Estates and the situation at Tibara might not be an isolated case. It would be well to make a really searching inspection. He sighed.
In fact, it might be well to make frequent searching inspections.
Shortly after his accession to the Estates, he had seen to the defense of Kira Barra. He smiled wryly as he thought of the expense he had incurred in securing all those power and control crystals to make up his surrogate installations. But they had been well worth it.
He had been most thorough then, but that had been some time ago. His last full inspection had been almost a year ago. Lately he had been satisfying himself with spot inspections, not really going over the Estates from border to border.
Of course, the spot inspections had been calculated to touch the potential trouble spots and they had been productive of results, but there might still be hidden things he should know about. This would have to be looked into.
He turned and went back to his chair, causing it to swivel around and face the view crystal.
There was that matter of Tibara, as far as that went. Possibly it would be well to count that herd and identify the animals positively.
Maybe the pasturage was getting poor and he would have to instruct the new headman to move to better lands. Those strays had looked rather thin, now that he thought of it.
Maybe some of the other long-necks had strayed from the main herd and he would have to have the headman send out guards to pick them up and bring them in.
He concentrated on the viewer, swinging its scan over to the swamp where he had driven that small herd.
They were still there, wallowing in the shallow water and grazing on the lush vegetation. He smiled. It would be several days before their feeble minds threw off the impression he had forced on them that this was their proper feeding place.
Idly, he examined the beasts, then he leaned forward, studying them more critically. They weren't the heavy, fat producers of meat normal to the Tibara herd. Something was wrong.
These were the same general breed as the Tibara long-necks, to be sure, but either their pasturage had been unbelievably bad or they had been recently run--long and hard. They looked almost like draft beasts.
He frowned. If these were from the Tibara herd, he'd been missing something for quite a while.
Thoughtfully, he caused the scan to shift. As he followed a small river, he noted groups of the huge, greenish gray beasts as they grazed on the tender rock ferns. Here and there, he noted herdsmen and chore boys either watching or urging the great brutes about with their noisemakers, keeping the herd together. He examined the scene critically, counting and evaluating. Finally, he settled back in his chair.
The herd was all here--even to the chicks. And they were in good shape. He smiled wryly.
Those brutes over in the swamp really didn't belong here, then. They must have drifted into the Estates from the null, and been on their way back. The headman-- He shrugged.
"Oh, well," he told himself, "it was time I got a new headman for Tibara, anyway. And the discipline there will be tighter from now on."
* * * * *
He started to shift scan again, then sat up. The view was pulsing.
