stal was leveled at him now. He looked at it indifferently,
thinking of the man who held it.

"Poor, lonesome weakling!"

Abruptly, the clearing was lit up by a blinding red glare. Naran closed
his eyes against the searing light. Seconds went by and he opened his
eyes again, looking about the village in confusion.

Had he somehow managed to retain full consciousness of ego, even after
being reduced by a distorter beam? Was there a release into some other
state of being? He had felt no--

He looked at Kio Barra. The man stood, slack-faced, still holding his
distorter rod, but gradually allowing it to sag toward the ground. Naran
shook his head.

"Now, what goes on?"

He probed at the man's mind.

There was consciousness. The man could think, but the thoughts were dim
and blurred, with no trace of psionic carrier. The control and amplifier
jewels he wore had lost their inner fire--were merely dull, lifeless
reflectors of the sunlight. This man could do no more toward bringing
life to the jewels than could the village headman--perhaps, even less.

Naran looked at him in unbelieving confusion, then turned as a sudden,
screaming thought struck his mind.

"A stinking, high-nosed witchman! And we thought he was one of us! Ate
with him. Argued with him. Even fought with him. I've got to get away.
Got to!"

There was desperation in the thought. And there were hatred overtones,
which blended, then swelled.

As the terrorized ululation went on, Naran swung his head, locating the
source. He'd have to do something about that--fast. The fellow would
really demoralize the caravan now--even infect the big saurians--cause a
stampede.

This guy had some power of projection and his terror was intensifying it
till anyone could receive the disturbing impulses, even though complete
understanding might be lacking.

Naran lifted himself from the ground, arrowing rapidly toward the
caravan, his mind already forming the thoughts which he hoped would
soothe the frantic fear and--at least to some degree--allay the frenzy
of hatred that swelled and became stronger and stronger.

Barra could wait.

* * * * *

As Barra swung his distorter to bear, he concentrated on the violent
pulse needed to trigger the jewel, his mind closed to all else. He
turned his attention on his target.

Suddenly, he recognized the curiously tender expression which had formed
on the face of the man before him.

Frantica