cast, so I believe I'll go to my quarters." He turned and went below.

As he disappeared down the ladder, Ladro turned to his companion.

"Of course," he said thoughtfully, "if all goes well, this man will be
most favored. But if the Great One shows signs of displeasure--"

Min-ta nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "I have heard of strangers who excited
the wrath of Kondaro." His eyes narrowed speculatively. "Those of the
faithful who keep watch on such unfavored beings are rewarded by the
priests, I am told."

Ladro nodded. "I believe that is correct," he agreed. "We should be
watchful for impiety in any event." He stretched. "Well, I think I shall
take a short nap before dinner."

Below, the traders' quarters were cramped. There was a small, common
space, with a table, over which hung the single light. About the
bulkheads were curtained recesses, sufficiently large for a bunk and
with barely enough space for the occupant to stand. Musa closed the
curtains, and sat down on his bunk.

Of course, he had no proof. There was no really logical sequence to
prove that the situation was dangerous. There was no evidence that his
fellow voyagers were other than honorable, well-intentioned men. But he
simply didn't feel right. He pulled his wooden chest from under the
bunk, opened it, and looked through the small store of personal effects.

There was no weapon. The law of Kondaro forbade the carrying of those by
other than the priests and their slaves. His attention was attracted by
a glitter, and he picked up the small amulet he had bought from the
peddler in Norlar. Slowly, he turned it in his hands.

It was an unusual ornament, strangely wrought. He had never seen such
fine, regular detail, even in the best handicraft. As he looked closer,
he could not see how it could have been accomplished with any of the
instruments he was familiar with, yet it must have been hand made,
unless it were actually of supernatural origin.

He remembered the urgent seriousness of the peddler's attitude, and he
could recall some of his words. The man had spoken almost convincingly
of powerful protectors, and Musa could foresee the need of such. He
found himself speaking.

"Oh, power that rests in this amulet," he said, "if there is any truth
in the peddler's words, I--" He paused, his usual, hard, common sense
taking over.

"I'm being silly!" He drew his hand back to throw the ornament into the
chest. Then, he felt himself stopped. An irresisti