The Players | Page 8

held a number of ornaments.
"Good day to you, oh Traveler," he cried. "Surely, it is a fortunate
morning for both of us." With a deft gesture, he threw one of the
trinkets, a cunningly contrived amulet, about Musa's neck.
Musa would have brushed the man aside, but the chain of the amulet
had tangled about his neck and he was forced to pause while removing
it.
"I told myself when I saw you," the man continued, "ah, Banasel, here
is one who should be favored by the gods. Now, how can such a one
venture upon the Eastern Sea without a sacred amulet?"
Musa had slipped the chain over his head. He paused, holding the
ornament in his hand. "How, then, are you to know where I am going?"
"Oh, Illustrious Traveler," exclaimed the man, "how can I fail to know
these things when it is given to me to vend these amulets of great
fortune?"
In spite of himself, Musa was curious. He looked at the amulet. There
was no question as to the superb workmanship, and his trading instincts
took over.
"Why, this is a fair piece of work," he said. "Possibly I could spare a

caldor or so."
The man before him struck his forehead.
"A caldor, he says! Why, the gold alone is worth ten."
Musa looked more closely at the ornament. The man was probably not
exaggerating too much. Actually, he knew he could get an easy
twenty-five balata for the bauble in Karth. A rapid calculation told him
that here was a possible profit from the skies.
"Why, possibly it is worth five, at that," he said. "Look, I'll be generous.
Shall we say six?"
"Oh, prince of givers! Thou paragon of generosity! After all, I, too,
must live." The man smiled wryly. "However, you are a fine,
upstanding young man, and one must make allowance. I had thought to
ask twenty, but we'll make it ten. Just the price of the gold."
Musa smiled inwardly. The profit was secured, but maybe--
"Let's make it eight, and I'll give you my blessing with the money."
The man held out his hand. "Nine."
Musa shrugged. "Very well, most expert of vendors." He reached into
his purse.
* * * * *
Banasel hesitated before accepting the money. He looked Musa over
carefully, then nodded as if satisfied.
"Yes," he said softly, "I was right." He paused, then addressed himself
directly to Musa.
"We must be very careful to whom we sell these enchanted amulets,"
he explained, "for they are talismans of the greatest of powers. The
wearer of one of these need never fear the unjust wrath of man, beast,

or demon, for he has powerful protectors at his call. Only wear this
charm. Never let it out of your possession, and you will have nothing to
fear during your voyage. Truly, you will be most favored."
He looked sharply at Musa again, took the money, glanced at it, and
dropped it into a pouch.
"Do you really believe in the powers of your ornaments, then?" Musa
asked skeptically.
Banasel's eyes widened, and he spread his arms. "To be sure," he said
in a devout tone. "How can I believe else, when I have seen their
miraculous workings so often?" He held up a hand. "Why, I could
spend hours telling you of the powers these little ornaments possess,
and of the miracles they have been responsible for. None have ever
come to harm while wearing one of these enchanted talismans. None!"
He spread his arms again.
Musa looked at him curiously. "I should like to hear your stories some
day," he said politely.
He felt uncomfortable, as many people do when confronted by a
confessed fanatic. His feelings were divided between surprise, a mild
contempt, and an unease, born of wonder and uncertainty.
Obviously, the man was not especially favored. He was dressed like
any street peddler. He had the slightly furtive, slightly brazen air of
those who must avoid the anger, and sometimes the notice, of more
powerful people, and yet, who must ply their trade. But he talked
grandly of the immense powers of the baubles he vended, seeming to
hold them in a sort of reverence. And, when he had spread his arms,
there had been a short-lived hint of suppressed power. Musa shuddered
a little.
"But I must go to the temple now, if I am to make arrangements for my
voyage," he added apologetically. He turned away, then hurried down
the street.

Banasel watched him go, a slight smile growing on his face.
"I don't blame you, Pal," he chuckled softly. "I'd feel the same way
myself."
He glanced around noting a narrow alley. Casually, he walked into it,
then looked around carefully. No one could observe him. He
straightened, dropping