The Weakling

by Everett B. Cole

* * *

  The days went on, became weeks, then hands of weeks. Little by little,Barra changed his attitude toward caravan masters. Once, he had beencautious about dealing with them, allowing only a chosen few to dobusiness within his borders.

  Now, however, he had found a whole, new source of income. And a newsense of power had come to him. Caravans were more than welcome at KiraBarra.

  He leaned back on his new chair, enjoying the complete ease with whichit instantly shaped to fit his body. It was precisely like hovering ashort distance above the floor, yet there was no strain of concentrationon some control unit. He allowed himself to relax completely and turnedhis attention to the viewer crystal.

  It was new, too. The old one of his father's which he had brought to thenew Residence had seemed quite inadequate when the Residence was redone.This new viewer had been designed for professional use. It was a fulltwo feet in diameter and could fill thousands of cubic feet with solidprojection.

  Animals, trees, pseudomen, all could be brought before him as thoughphysically present in the study. Too, it was simpler than the old oneand much more accurate in its control. He sighed.

  The Estates had prospered. Of course, he had been cautious. Manycaravans had come to Kira Barra and left again, their masters highlypleased with the fair dealings of the Estates. Several had returned,time and time again.

  There had been others who had come through during times when the nullwas in turbulence and it was from these that he had taken his harvest.He had been particular in his choices, making careful evaluation beforetaking any action.

  By this time, his operation was faultless--a smooth routine whichadmitted of no error. He smiled as he remembered his fumbling effortswith the first caravan and his halting improvements when he had dealtwith the next. What were those fellows' names?

  He shrugged. He could remember that first fellow practically begging himto take action and he could remember his own frightened evaluation ofthe situation after the first step. He had gone over a whole, long lineof alternative choices, rejecting them one by one until the inevitable,ideal method of operation had come out. He smiled.

  When he had finally settled on his general method, it had been elegantlysimple. But it had been very nearly perfect. Basically, he was stillusing the same plan.

  Now, of course, it was smoother and even more simplified. There were twogeneral routines involved.

  Most caravan masters were treated with the greatest of consideration.They were allowed to pass through the Estates with only nominal fees andinvited to avail themselves of the courtesy of the Estates at any timein the future. If trades with the Estates were involved, the fees werewaived, of course. And many of them had returned, bringing goods andinformation, as well as taking away the produce of the Estates.

  Then, there were those caravans which came during turbulences in thenull and which seemed worthwhile to the now practiced eyes of Kio Barra.These were the ones ripe for harvest. Their owners had been offered thecourtesy of the Estates--and more.

  They had been taken for sightseeing tours--perhaps of the lake--perhapsto see valuable carrier stock which could be had at bargain rates.

  Then, in complete privacy, a distorter beam had made neat disposition ofthem.

  Their goods had been distributed through the various warehouses andlater disposed of through the safe channels which Barra had carefullycultivated. Their slaves, of course, had been eliminated.

  Barra regretted this waste of valuable property, but this way therecould be no leak of information and no inquiry could be successful.

  There had been an inquiry at one time, but that had been in the earlierdays.

  The inquirer had gone away with no suspicion in his mind. He hadexamined the null from the hills and had agreed with Kio Barra that itwas indeed a menace. He had listened sympathetically to Barra's ruefulcomments about slaves and stock which had drifted into the null, neverto be heard from again.

  Barra activated the view crystal. It was time for another inspection ofthe Estates.

  * * * * *

  The projection formed and Barra was suddenly in a wood, looking across awide field. Grain waved in the breeze and here and there, thesilhouettes of both long-neck and fin-back could be seen, half hidden bygrass and trees.

  The scanner progressed, crossing the field and continuing to anotherforest, operating on the route impressed on it. Barra relaxed as hewatched. As the scan progressed through field, swamp and forest, henodded in satisfaction. The Estates were in far better shape than everbefore.

  Suddenly, he halted the scan, looking critically at the scene. He was inthe central clearing of Tibara. And the village didn't match with thestandards he wanted.

  He looked critically at the huts. They were becoming run-down. It hadbeen too long since the roof thatches had been replaced. Uprights werebending a little here, a trifle out of plumb there.

  There were broken stones again in the well curb and the pile of stonebrought for repair wasn't neatly stacked. He frowned.

  This was not the first time he'd had to take a firm hand in Tibara. Ofcourse, he had replaced headmen in other villages--more than once insome cases. But Tibara was working on its third headman. There wassomething really wrong in that village.

  To be sure, Tibara was the village where most caravan slaves werequartered. A lodge had been built there for that purpose and it was infrequent use. Naturally, it was maintained by the villagers. But thatwas even less excuse for shoddiness. This should be the neatest, bestkept village in all Kira Barra. It wasn't.

  The frown deepened. This time, Tibara was going to be cleaned up, andhe'd keep his attention on it. The village would stay clean if thevillagers had to spend every second of their time on it when theyweren't taking care of their herds, their boats, and their guest lodge.

  And there'd be no slacking in those other areas, either.

  He looked around the clearing. There were, he was forced to admit, noidlers about at the moment. The only people he could see were women andchildren. And the women were busily occupied.

  Again, he studied the scene. The men would be coming in from theirfields and from the lake in another hour. He would examine a few othervillages, then return his attention to Tibara.

  * * * * *

  Wearily, Retonga, headman of Tibara, pulled himself to a sittingposition. He looked over to the other side of the room. Mir was alreadyon her feet. She smiled at him uncertainly.

  "It's morning," she said. "Rest day, at last."

  "Yes." Retonga closed his eyes for an instant. It had been bad for her,too, he knew. He'd probably been pretty hard to live with these past fewdays. He sighed.

  "Rest day," he mused. "But it means nothing. There's still work. There'salways work these days." He got to his feet.

  "I wish I were just a herd boy--in some other village." He went to thedoor and looked out.

  Someone had disturbed the pile of building stones. Children had beenplaying in the clearing the night before and the earth was scuffed up.Bits of wood and cloth lay scattered here and there.

  He looked at the houses. Folshan's roof was sagging a trifle, henoticed. And there were a couple of dolls lying outside his door. Heshook his head and went out into the clearing.

  Old Tamiso was squatting by the well. Retonga walked over to him.

  "Your stone pile," he said. "A few of the stones are scattered."

  The old man looked over, then shrugged.

  "I just picked this one out," he explained. "When I get it laid, I'llhave to get another. I'll straighten the pile when I finish here."

  Retonga smiled wearily. "And if the master sees your pile now?"

  Tamiso pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his back thoughtfully.

  "Yes," he said. "The master can give great pain, and it seems he isalways watching these days." He walked over to the stones.

  For a moment, Retonga watched as he rearranged his pile, then he turned,tilting his head
back.

  "Awaken," he shouted. "For the sun looks down and shall he find usasleep?"

  A head poked out of a door.

  "It's a rest day. We'll be at it soon enough, but what's the hurry?"

  Retonga shook his head. "I know it's rest day. You know it's rest day.But there's one who forgets these things. Remember the other evening?"

  Folshan winced and Retonga pointed.

  "Better get those dolls picked up. And there's that roof of yours. I'llgive you a hand with it."

  Folshan came out of his hut, then looked back.

  "No," he said slowly. "You're headman. Remember how that happened? Letthe master catch you helping with the work and we'll need yet anotherheadman." He shook his head.

  "This time, it could be me." He bent over to pick up the toys hisdaughter had left.

  "Kina," he called, "tell Chama to keep her toys