et the caravan master. But he discarded it. It would
be somewhat undignified for the master of the estate to serve as a mere
caravan guide. He stood, waiting.

He could see Dar Makun sitting between the armor fins of his riding
lizard. The reptile was one of the heavily armored breed he had
considered raising over in the northwest sector.

They were, he had been told, normally dryland creatures. Such brutes
should thrive over in the flats, where the long-necks did poorly. He
would have to consider the acquisition of some breeding stock.

The caravan master drew his mount to a halt and drifted toward the
trees. Barra examined the man closely as he approached.

He was a tall, slender man, perfectly at ease in his plain trail
clothing. A few control jewels glinted from his fingers and he wore a
small shield brooch, but there was no heavy equipment. His distorter
staff, Barra noted, was a plain rod, tipped by a small jewel.
Serviceable, to be sure, but rather short in range. Barra's lip curled a
trifle.

This man was not of really great substance, he decided. He probably had
his entire wealth tied up in this one caravan and depended on his fees
and on the sale of some few goods of his own to meet expenses.

As Dar Makun dropped to the ground near him, Barra nodded.

"I have instructed my headman to attend to your drivers and beasts," he
said. "You have personal baggage?"

The other smiled. "Thank you. I'll have one of the boys bring my pack
while the drivers pull up and unload. We can make our stack here, if you
don't mind."

As Barra nodded in agreement, Dar Makun turned, waving. He drew a deep
breath and shouted loudly, the sounds resembling those which Barra had
often heard from his slaves. The Master Protector felt a twinge of
disgust.

Of course, several of the caravan masters who did regular business at
Kira Barra shouted at their slaves at times. But somehow, he had never
become used to it. He much preferred to do business with those few who
handled their pseudomen as they did their draft beasts--quietly, and
with the dignity befitting the true race.

He waited till Dar Makun had finished with his growls and hisses. One of
the caravan drivers had swung down and was bringing a fiber cloth bundle
toward them. Barra looked at it in annoyance.

"This," he asked himself, "is his baggage?" He recovered his poise and
turned to Dar Makun.

"He can put it in the boat," he told the man. "I'll have one of my
pe