climbed wearily to his feet, suddenly exhausted. He was alonewith his victim. The cold wind swept about them carrying the rustlinggrains of sand, chilling the sweat on his body. Sighing once he wipedhis bloody hands on the sand and began to strip the corpse. Thickstraps held the shell helmet over the dead man's head and when heunknotted them and pulled it away he saw that Ch'aka was well pastmiddle age. There was some gray in his beard, but his scraggly hairwas completely gray, his face and balding head pallid white from beingconcealed under the helmet. It took a long time to get the wrappingsand armor off and retie them over himself, but it was finally done.Under the skin and claw wrappings on Ch'aka's feet were Jason's boots,filthy but undamaged, and Jason drew them on happily. When at last,after scouring it out with sand, he had strapped on the helmet, Ch'akawas reborn. The corpse on the sand was just another dead slave. Jasonscraped a shallow grave, interred and covered it. Then, slung aboutwith weapons, bags and crossbow, the club in his hand, he stalked backto the waiting slaves. As soon as he appeared they scrambled to theirfeet and formed a line. Jason saw Ijale looking at him worriedly,trying to discover who had won the battle.
"Score one for the visiting team," he called out, and she gave him asmall, frightened smile and turned away. "About face all and head backthe way we came. There is a new day dawning for you slaves. I know youdon't believe this yet, but there are some big changes in store."
He whistled while he strolled after the line and chewed happily on thefirst _krenoj_ that was found.
VI
That evening they built a fire on the beach and Jason sat with hisback to the safety of the sea. He took his helmet off, the thing wasgiving him a headache, and called Ijale over to him.
"I hear Ch'aka. I obey."
She ran hurriedly over to him and flopped onto the sand.
"I want to talk to you," Jason said. "And my name is Jason, notCh'aka."
"Yes, Ch'aka," she said, darting a quick glance at his exposed face,then turning away. He grumbled and pushed the basket of _krenoj_ overto her.
"I can see where it is not going to be an easy thing changing thissocial setup. Tell me, do you or any of the others ever have anydesire to be free?"
"What is free?"
"Well ... I suppose that answers my question. Free is what you arewhen you are not a slave, or a slave owner, free to go where you wantand do what you want."
"I wouldn't like that." She shivered. "Who would take care of me? Howcould I find any _krenoj_? It takes many people together to find_krenoj_, one alone would starve."
"If you are free, you can combine with other free people and look for_krenoj_ together."
"That is stupid. Whoever found would eat and not share unless a mastermade him. I like to eat."
Jason rasped his sprouting beard. "We all like to eat, but thatdoesn't mean we have to be slaves. But I can see that unless there aresome radical changes in this environment I am not going to have muchluck in freeing anyone, and I had better take all the precautions of aCh'aka to see that I can stay alive."
He picked up his club and stalked off into the darkness, silentlycircling the camp until he found a good-sized knoll with smooth sides.Working by touch he pulled the little pegs from their bag and plantedthem in rows, carefully laying the leather strings in their forkedtops. The ends of the strings were fastened to delicately balancedsteel bells that tinkled at the slightest touch. Thus protected he laydown in the center of his warning spiderweb and spent a restlessnight, half awake, waiting tensely for the bells to ring.
* * * * *
In the morning the march continued and they came to the barrier cairn,and when the slaves stopped Jason urged them past it. They did thishappily, looking forward to witnessing a good fight for possession ofthe violated territory. Their hopes were justified when later in theday the other row of slaves was seen far off to the right, and afigure detached itself and ran towards them.
"Hate you, Ch'aka!" Fasimba shouted as he ran up, only this time hemeant what he said. "Coming on my ground, I kill you!"
"Not yet," Jason called out. "And hate you, Fasimba, sorry I forgotthe formalities. I don't want any of your land and the old treaty orwhatever it is still holds. I just want to talk to you."
Fasimba stopped, but kept his stone hammer ready, very suspicious."You got new voice, Ch'aka."
"I got new Ch'aka, old Ch'aka now pushing up the daisies. I want totrade back a slave from you and then we'll go."
"Ch'aka fight hard. You must be good fighter Ch'aka." He shook hishammer angrily. "Not as good as me, Ch'aka!"
"You're the tops, Fasimba, nine slaves out of ten want you for amaster. Look, can't we get to the point, then I'll get my mob out ofhere." He looked at the row of approaching slaves, trying to pick outMikah. "I want back the slave who had the hole in his head. I'll giveyou two slaves in trade, your choice. What do you say to that?"
"Good trade, Ch'aka. You pick one of mine, take the best, I'll taketwo of yours. But hole-in-head gone. Too much trouble. Talk all thetime. I got sore foot from kicking him. Got rid of him."
"Did you kill him?"
"Don't waste slave. Traded him to the D'zertanoj. Got arrows. You wantarrows?"
"Not this time, Fasimba, but thanks for the information." He rootedaround in a pouch and pulled out a _krenoj_. "Here, have something toeat."
"Where you get poisoned _krenoj_?" Fasimba asked with interest. "Icould use a poisoned _krenoj_."
"This isn't poisoned, it's perfectly edible, or at least as edible asthese things ever are."
Fasimba laughed. "You pretty funny, Ch'aka. I give you one arrow forpoisoned _krenoj_."
"You're on," Jason said throwing the _krenoj_ to the ground betweenthem. "But I tell you it is perfectly good."
"That's what I tell man I give it to. I got good use for a poisoned_krenoj_." He threw an arrow into the sand away from them and grabbedup the vegetable as he left.
When Jason picked up the arrow it bent, and he saw that it was rustedalmost completely in two and that the break had been craftily coveredby clay. "That's all right," he called after the retreating slaver,"just wait until your friend eats the _krenoj_."
* * * * *
The march continued, first back to the boundary cairn with thesuspicious Fasimba dogging their steps. Only after Jason and his bandhad passed the border did the others return to their normal foraging.Then began the long walk to the borders of the inland desert. Sincethey had to search for _krenoj_ as they went it took them the betterpart of three days to reach their destination. Jason merely startedthe line in the correct direction, but as soon as he was out of sightof the sea he had only a rough idea of the correct course, however hedid not confide his ignorance to the slaves and they marched steadilyon, along what was obviously a well-known route to them. Along the waythey collected and consumed a good number of _krenoj_, found two wellsfrom which they refilled the skin bags, and pointed out a huddledanimal sitting by a hole that Jason, to their un-voiced disgust,managed to miss completely with a bolt from the crossbow.
On the morning of the third day Jason saw a line of demarcation on theflattened horizon and before the midday meal they came to a sea ofbillowing, bluish-gray sand. The ending of what he had been accustomedto thinking of as the desert was startling. Beneath their feet wereyellow sand and gravel, while occasional shrubs managed a sicklyexistence as did some grass and the life-giving _krenoj_. Animals aswell as men lived here and, ruthless though survival was, they were atleast alive. In the wastes ahead no life was possible or visible,though there seemed to be no doubt that the D'zertanoj lived there.This must mean that though it looked unlimited--as Ijale believed itto be--there were probably arable lands on the other side. Mountainsas well, if they weren't just clouds, since a line of gray peaks couldjust be made out on the distant horizon.
"Where do we find the D'zertanoj?" he asked the nearest slave whomerely scowled and looked away. Jason was having a problem withdiscipline. The slaves would not do a thing he as
ked unless he kickedthem. Their conditioning had been so thorough that an orderunaccompanied by a kick just wasn't an order and his continuedreluctance to impose the physical coercion with the spoken command wasjust being taken as a sign of weakness. Already some of the burlierslaves were licking their lips and sizing him up. His efforts toimprove the life of the slaves were being blocked completely by theslaves themselves. With a mumbled curse at the continued obduracy ofthe human race Jason sank the toe of his boot into the man.
Edipon]
"Find them there by big rock," was the
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