The Players | Page 6

my hand. A book of strange laws can be worse than any bandit born."
Musa looked about the market. "Here, of course," he acknowledged,
"are the goods of the Far East. But I must see them at their source." He
shook his head. "No," he decided, "I shall make one trip at least."
"I'll give you just one word of caution, then," he was told. "Whatever
you see, make little comment. Whenever you are asked for an offering,
make no objection, but give liberally. Keep your eyes open and your
opinions to yourself."
"Thanks." Musa grinned. "I'll try to remember."
"Don't just remember. Follow the advice, if you wish to return."
Musa's grin widened. "I'll be back," he promised.
* * * * *
The harbor of Tanagor, chief seaport of Norlar, was full of shipping.
Here were the ships which plied the trackless wastes of the Eastern Sea.
Huge, red-sailed, broad-beamed, they rode at anchor in the harbor,
served by small galleys from the city. Tied up at the wharves, were the
smaller, yellow and white-sailed ships which crossed the channel
between the mainland and the island empire.
Slowly, Musa's ship drew in toward the wharf, where a shouting gang
of porters and stevedores awaited her arrival. Together with other
passengers, Musa stood at the rail, watching the activity on the pier.
Four slaves, bearing a crimson curtained litter, came to the wharf and
stopped. The curtains opened, and a man stepped out. He was not large,
nor did his face or figure differ from the normal. But his elegantly
embroidered crimson and gold robes made him a colorfully outstanding

figure, even on this colorful waterfront. And the imperious assurance of
his bearing made him impossible to ignore.
He adjusted his strangely shaped, flat cap, glanced about the wharf
haughtily, and beckoned to one of the slaves, who reached inside the
litter and took from it an ornately decorated crimson chest. Another
slave joined him, and the two, carrying the chest with every evidence of
reverent care, followed their crimson-cloaked master as he strode into a
pier office.
Musa turned to one of the other merchants, his eyebrows raised
inquiringly.
"A priest of Kondaro," whispered the other. "In this land, they are
supreme. Take care never to anger one of them, or to approach too
closely to the sacred chest their slaves carry. To do so can mean prompt
execution."
As Musa started to thank the man for his friendly warning, a cry of
"Line Ho!" caused him to turn his attention to the mooring parties.
Lines had been cast aboard at bow and stern, and the ship was rapidly
being secured to stout bollards ashore.
A gang of stevedores quickly rigged a gangway amidships, and porters
commenced streaming aboard to carry the cargo ashore. Another
gangway was rigged aft for the passengers. At the foot of this, stood
one of the priest's litter bearers, a slave with a crimson loincloth. In his
hands, he held a large, red bowl, which was decorated with intricate
gold designs. Beside him, stood his companion, a sturdy, frowning
fellow, who held a large, strangely shaped sword in his hand. Musa's
previous mentor leaned toward him nodding to the group.
"Don't forget or fail to put a coin in that bowl," he cautioned.
"Otherwise, you'll never get passage on one of the sacred ships."
"How much?" queried Musa.
"The more, the better. If you want quick passage across the Great Sea,

better make it at least ten caldor."
Musa shrugged, reaching into his purse for a gold coin.
"Maybe I should be in the priesthood myself, instead of the trading
business," he told himself silently.
As he passed the bowl, he noted that the other trader dropped only a
silver piece. On the wharf, the incoming passengers were being guided
into groups. Musa noted that his group was the smallest, and that his
previous friend had gone to another, larger group. An official, tablet in
hand, approached.
"Your name, Traveler?"
"Musa, trader, of Karth."
"You have goods?"
"I brought twelve bales. They are marked with my name."
"Very good, sir. We will hold them for your disposal. You may claim
them at any time after mid-day." The man wrote rapidly on his tablet.
Musa thanked him, then turned to see how his shipboard acquaintance
was progressing. He had questions to ask about gold and silver coins.
He watched the older merchant complete his conversation with an
official, and, as he started to leave the wharf, quickly caught up with
him. At Musa's approach, the other held up a hand.
"I know," he said. "Why did I tell you to make a generous offering,
then put a smaller coin in the bowl myself? That is what you want to
know?"
"Precisely," Musa replied. "I'm not a