THE
PLAYERS
BY EVERETT B. COLE
A Playboy is someone with power, too much
time on his hands, and too little sense of a goal
worth achieving. And if the Playboy happens
to belong to a highly advanced culture....
Illustrated by Solo
Through the narrow streets leadingto the great plaza of Karth, swarmeda colorful crowd—buyers, idlers,herdsmen, artisans, traders. From alldirections they came, some to gatheraround the fountain, some to explorethe wineshops, many to examine thewares, or to buy from the merchantswhose booths and tents hid thecobblestones.
A caravan wound its way througha gate and stopped, the weary beastsstanding patiently as the traderssought vacant space where they mightopen business. From another gate, aherdsman guided his living waresthrough the crowd, his working animalssnapping at the heels of theflock, keeping it together and in motion.
Musa, trader of Karth, sat cross-leggedbefore his shop, watching thescene with quiet amusement. Businesswas good in the city, and hiswas pleasingly above the average.Western caravans had come in, exchangingtheir goods for those easternwares he had acquired. Buyersfrom the city and from the surroundinghills had come to him, to exchangetheir coin for his goods. Heglanced back into the booth, satisfiedwith what he saw, then resumed hiscasual watch of the plaza. No oneseemed interested in him.
There were customers in plenty.Men stopped, critically examined thecontents of the displays, then movedon, or stayed to bargain. One of thesepaused before Musa, his eyes dwellingon the merchant rather than onhis wares.
The shopper was a man of mediumheight. His rather slender, finely featuredface belied the apparent heavinessof his body, though hisappearance was not actually abnormal.Rather, he gave the impressionof being a man of powerful physiqueand ascetic habits. His dress was thatof a herdsman, or possibly of anowner of herds from the northernGalankar.
Musa arose, to face him.
"Some sleeping rugs, perhaps? Ora finely worked bronze jar from theEast?"
The stranger nodded. "Possibly.But I would like to look a while ifI may."
Musa stepped aside, waving ahand. "You are more than welcome,friend," he assented. "Perhaps someof my poor goods may strike yourfancy."
"Thank you." The stranger movedinside.
Musa stood at the entrance, watchinghim. As the man stepped fromplace to place, Musa noted that heseemed to radiate a certain confidence.There was a definite aura of powerand ability. This man, the trader decided,was no ordinary herdsman. Hecommanded more than sheep.
"You own herds to the North?"he asked.
The stranger turned, smiling."Lanko is my name," he said. "Yes,I come from the North." He swepta hand to indicate the merchandiseon display, and directed a questioninggaze at the merchant. "It seemsstrange that your goods are all of theEast. I see little of the West in allyour shop."
Normally, Musa kept his owncouncil, assuming that his affairs werenot public property, but his alone.There was something about this man,Lanko, however, which influencedhim to break his usual reticence.
"I plan a trading trip to the EasternSea," he confided. "Of course,to carry eastern goods again to theEast would be a waste of time, so Iam reserving my western goods forthe caravan and clearing out thethings of the East."
Lanko nodded. "I see." He pointedto a small case of finely wor