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are gonewithout trace." He sighed.

  "That introduces an uncertainty factor, of course, but the equipment inthe hands of natives, and the stuff just lying around in deserted areashas to be tracked down. This planet will develop a technology some day,and we don't want anything about to raise questions and doubts when itdoes. The folklore running around now is bad enough. When we get theequipment back, we've got to clean up the social mess left by thedescendants of those original operatives."

  "Nice job."

  "Very nice. We'll be busy for a long time." Meinora picked up a smalltape reel. "Just got this," he explained. "That's why I was waiting foryou here. It's an account of a mentacom and shield that got away.Probably stolen about twenty years ago, planetary. We're assigned totrack it down and pick it up."

  He turned to speak to a technician, who was working at another bench.

  "You can have this stuff now. Bring in some more pretty soon."

  * * * * *

  Flor, the beater, was bone weary. The shadows were lengthening, hidingthe details in the thickets, and all the hot day, he had been thrustinghis way through thicket after thicket, in obedience to the instructionsof the foresters. He had struck trees with his short club and hadgrunted and squealed, to startle the _khada_ into flight. A few of theugly beasts had come out, charging into the open, to be run down andspeared by the nobles.

  And Flor had tired of this hunt, as he had tired of many other hunts inthe past. Hunting the savage _khada_, he thought resentfully, might bean amusing sport for the nobles. But to a serf, it was hard,lung-bursting work at best. At worst, it meant agonizing death beneathtrampling hoofs and rending teeth.

  To be sure, there would be meat at the hunting lodge tonight, in plenty,and after the hunt dinner, he and the other serfs might take bits of theflesh home to their families. But that would be after the chores in thescullery were over. It would be many hours before Flor would be able tostumble homeward.

  He relaxed, to enjoy the short respite he had gained by evading theforester. Sitting with his back to a small tree, he closed his eyes andfolded his thick arms over his head. Of course, he would soon be found,and he would have to go back to the hunt. But this forester was a dull,soft fellow. He could be made to believe Flor's excuse that he hadbecome lost for a time, and had been searching the woods for the otherbeaters.

  The underbrush rustled and Flor heard the sound of disturbed leaves andheavy footfalls. A hunting charger was approaching, bearing one of thehunters. Quickly, Flor rose to his feet, sidling farther back into thethicket. Possibly, he might remain unseen. He peered out through theleaves.

  The mounted man was old and evidently tired from the long day's hunt. Heswayed a little in his saddle, then recovered and looked about him,fumbling at his side for his horn. His mount raised its head and beat aforefoot against the ground. The heavy foot made a deep, thumping noiseand leaves rustled and rose in a small cloud.

  Flor sighed and started forward reluctantly. It was the Earl, himself.It might be possible to hide from another, but Flor knew better than totry to conceal his presence from the old nobleman. The Earl could detectany person in his vicinity, merely by their thoughts, as Flor well knewfrom past experience. He also knew how severe the punishment would be ifhe failed to present himself immediately. He pushed a branch aside witha loud rustle.

  Startled by the noise, a _husa_, which had been hiding beneath a nearbybush, raced into the open. The small animal dashed madly toward theEarl, slid wildly almost under the charger's feet, and put on a freshburst of speed, to disappear into the underbrush. The huge beastflinched away, then reared wildly, dashing his rider's head against atree limb.

  The elderly man slipped in his saddle, reached shakily for his belt,missed, and lost his seat, to crash heavily to the ground.

  Flor rushed from his thicket. With the shock of the fall, the Earl'scoronet had become dislodged from his head and lay a short distance fromthe inert form. Flor picked it up, turning it in his hands and lookingat it.

  * * * * *

  Curiously, he examined the golden circlet, noting the tiny bosses insetin the band. Many times, he had watched from a dark corner at thehunting lodge, neglecting his scullery duties, while the Earl showed thepowers of this coronet to his elder son. Sometimes, he had been caughtby the very powers the circlet gave to the old nobleman, and he wincedas he remembered the strong arm of the kitchen master, and the skillwith which he wielded a strap. But on other occasions, the Earl had beenso engrossed in explaining the device as to neglect the presence of theeavesdropper.

  He had told of the ability given him to read the thoughts of others, andeven to strongly influence their actions. And Flor had gone back to hislabors, to dream of what he would do if he, rather than the Earl, werethe possessor of the powerful talisman.

  And now, he had it in his hands.

  A daring idea occurred to him, and he looked around furtively. He wasalone with the Earl. The old man was breathing stertorously, his mouthwide open. His face was darkening, and the heavy jowls were becomingpurple. Obviously, he was capable of little violence.

  In sudden decision, Flor knelt beside the body. His hand, holding theshort club above the Earl's throat, trembled uncontrollably. He wantedto act--had to act now--but his fear made him nauseated and weak. For amoment, his head seemed to expand and to lighten as he realized theenormity of his intent. This was one of the great nobles of the land,not some mere animal.

  The heavily lidded eyes beneath him fluttered, started to open.

  With a sob of effort, Flor dashed his club downward, as though strikinga _husa_. The Earl shivered convulsively, choked raspingly, and wassuddenly limp and still. The labored breathing stopped and his eyesopened reluctantly, to fix Flor with a blank stare.

  The serf leaped back, then hovered over the body, club poised to strikeagain. But the old man was really dead. Flor shook his head. Men, hethought in sudden contempt, died easily. It was not so with the _husa_,or the _khada_, who struggled madly for life, often attacking theirkiller and wounding him during their last efforts.

  Flor consigned this bit of philosophy to his memory for future use andset to work removing the heavy belt worn by the Earl. This, he knew, wasanother potent talisman, which could guard its wearer from physical harmwhen its bosses were pushed.

  The murderer smiled sardonically. It was well for him that the oldnobleman had failed to press those bosses, otherwise this opportunityprobably would never have been presented. He stood up, holding the beltin his hand. Such a thing as this, he told himself, could make him agreat man.

  He examined the belt, noting the long metal case, with its engraving andits bosses. At last, he grunted and fastened it about his own waist. Hepressed the bosses, then threw himself against a tree.

  Something slowed his fall, and he seemed to be falling on a soft mat. Hecaught his balance and rested against the tree, nodding in satisfaction.Later, he could experiment further, but now he had other things to do.

  He examined the coronet again, remembering that there was somethingabout its bosses, too. He looked closely at them, then pressed. One bossslid a little under his finger and he felt a faint, unfamiliar sense ofawareness.

  He put the coronet on his head and shuddered a little as the awarenessincreased to an almost painful intensity. The forest was somehow moreclear to him than it had ever been. He seemed to understand many thingswhich he had heard or experienced, but which had been vague before. Andmemory crowded upon him. He stood still, looking around.

  At the edge of his mind was vague, uneasy wonder, obviously not his ownthought. There was a dim caricature of himself standing over the body ofthe Earl. And there was a feeling of the need to do something withoutunderstanding of what was to be done, or why.

  He could remember clearly now, the Earl's explanations of the action ofthe coronet. One incident stood out--a time when the old man, havingoverindulged in the local wine, had demonstrated his ability to divinethe thoughts of othe
rs. Flor twitched a little in painful recollection.The kitchen master had been especially enthusiastic in his use of thestrap that night.

  The Earl's mount was eying Flor, who realized without knowing just how,that the vague images and rudimentary thoughts were a reflection of thebeast's mind. He looked over at the thicket into which the littleanimal which had started the charger, was hiding. It was still there,and he could feel a sense of fearful wonder, a desire to be gone,coupled with a fear of being discovered.

  Again, he looked about the woods. In a way, the _husa_ and he were akin.It would be bad if he were caught here, too. To be sure, he would behard to capture, with his new protection, but many men would hunt him.And some of them would be other Earls, or possibly some of the greatabbots, who had their own coronets and belts, and possibly other thingsof great power. These, he knew, might be too much for him. He slunk intothe thicket, looked down the hill, and decided on a course which wouldavoid the paths of