hrough it.

"Be with you in a minute, Banasel," he called over his shoulder. "Like
to get cleaned up."

Banasel nodded and went back to the workbench. He picked up a small
part, examined it, touched it gently a few times with a soft brush, and
replaced it in the device he was working on.

He tightened it into place, and was checking another component when a
slight shuffle announced his companion's return.

"Oh, yes," said Lanko. "Met your old pal, Musa. He's doing right well
for himself."

Banasel swung around. "Haven't seen him since we joined the Corps.
What's he doing?"

"Trading." Lanko opened a locker, glancing critically at the clothing
within. "He set up shop with the load of goods we gave him long ago, and
did some pretty shrewd merchandising. Now, he's planning a trip over the
Eastern Sea. He hinted at a rumor of a civilization out past Norlar."

"Nothing out there for several thousand kilos," growled Banasel, "except
for a few little islands." He jerked a thumb toward the workbench. "I
can't show you right now, because the scanner's down for cleaning, but
there isn't even an island for the first couple thousand K's. Currents
are all wrong, too. No one could cross without navigational equipment."

"I know," Lanko assured him. "We haven't checked over that way for a
long time, but I still remember. I didn't put it exactly that way, of
course, but I did ask Musa how he planned to get over the Eastern. And,
I got an answer." He paused as he gathered up the garments he had
discarded.

"It seems there's a new priesthood at Norlar, who've got something," he
continued. "It's all wrapped up in religious symbology, and they don't
let any details get out, but they are guiding ships out to sea, and
they're bringing them back again, loaded with goods that never
originated in the Galankar, or in any place accessible to the
Galankar." He hung up the last article of clothing and turned, a
sheathed sword in his hand.

"Musa sold me this," he said, extending the hilt toward Banasel. "I
never saw anything like it on this planet. Did you?"

* * * * *

Banasel accepted the weapon, drawing it from its scabbard. He examined
the handwork on the hilt, then snapped a fingernail against the blade.
As he listened to the musical _ping_, the technician looked at the
weapon with more interest. Gently, he flexed it, watching for signs of
strain. Lanko grinned at him.

"Go ahead," he invited, "g