The Weakling Part 8

The projection formed and Barra was suddenly in a wood, looking across a wide field. Grain waved in the breeze and here and there, the silhouettes of both long-neck and fin-back could be seen, half hidden by gra.s.s and trees.

The scanner progressed, crossing the field and continuing to another forest, operating on the route impressed on it. Barra relaxed as he watched. As the scan progressed through field, swamp and forest, he nodded in satisfaction. The Estates were in far better shape than ever before.

Suddenly, he halted the scan, looking critically at the scene. He was in the central clearing of Tibara. And the village didn't match with the standards he wanted.

He looked critically at the huts. They were becoming run-down. It had been too long since the roof thatches had been replaced. Uprights were bending a little here, a trifle out of plumb there.

There were broken stones again in the well curb and the pile of stone brought for repair wasn't neatly stacked. He frowned.

This was not the first time he'd had to take a firm hand in Tibara. Of course, he had replaced headmen in other villages--more than once in some cases. But Tibara was working on its third headman. There was something really wrong in that village.

To be sure, Tibara was the village where most caravan slaves were quartered. A lodge had been built there for that purpose and it was in frequent use. Naturally, it was maintained by the villagers. But that was even less excuse for shoddiness. This should be the neatest, best kept village in all Kira Barra. It wasn't.

The frown deepened. This time, Tibara was going to be cleaned up, and he'd keep his attention on it. The village would stay clean if the villagers had to spend every second of their time on it when they weren't taking care of their herds, their boats, and their guest lodge.

And there'd be no slacking in those other areas, either.

He looked around the clearing. There were, he was forced to admit, no idlers about at the moment. The only people he could see were women and children. And the women were busily occupied.

Again, he studied the scene. The men would be coming in from their fields and from the lake in another hour. He would examine a few other villages, then return his attention to Tibara.

Wearily, Retonga, headman of Tibara, pulled himself to a sitting position. He looked over to the other side of the room. Mir was already on her feet. She smiled at him uncertainly.

"It's morning," she said. "Rest day, at last."

"Yes." Retonga closed his eyes for an instant. It had been bad for her, too, he knew. He'd probably been pretty hard to live with these past few days. He sighed.

"Rest day," he mused. "But it means nothing. There's still work. There's always work these days." He got to his feet.

"I wish I were just a herd boy--in some other village." He went to the door and looked out.

Someone had disturbed the pile of building stones. Children had been playing in the clearing the night before and the earth was scuffed up.

Bits of wood and cloth lay scattered here and there.

He looked at the houses. Folshan's roof was sagging a trifle, he noticed. And there were a couple of dolls lying outside his door. He shook his head and went out into the clearing.

Old Tamiso was squatting by the well. Retonga walked over to him.

"Your stone pile," he said. "A few of the stones are scattered."

The old man looked over, then shrugged.

"I just picked this one out," he explained. "When I get it laid, I'll have to get another. I'll straighten the pile when I finish here."

Retonga smiled wearily. "And if the master sees your pile now?"

Tamiso pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his back thoughtfully.

"Yes," he said. "The master can give great pain, and it seems he is always watching these days." He walked over to the stones.

For a moment, Retonga watched as he rearranged his pile, then he turned, tilting his head back.

"Awaken," he shouted. "For the sun looks down and shall he find us asleep?"

A head poked out of a door.

"It's a rest day. We'll be at it soon enough, but what's the hurry?"

Retonga shook his head. "I know it's rest day. You know it's rest day.

But there's one who forgets these things. Remember the other evening?"

Folshan winced and Retonga pointed.

"Better get those dolls picked up. And there's that roof of yours. I'll give you a hand with it."

Folshan came out of his hut, then looked back.

"No," he said slowly. "You're headman. Remember how that happened? Let the master catch you helping with the work and we'll need yet another headman." He shook his head.

"This time, it could be me." He bent over to pick up the toys his daughter had left.

"Kina," he called, "tell Chama to keep her toys picked up, or she might be needing a new father." He turned again.

"I'll get Kesonta to help with that roof. It'll be straight in an hour or so."

Retonga looked after him for a moment, then caught the eyes of a couple of the women. He made a sweeping motion toward the earth of the clearing, then walked back to his own door.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

He turned, inspecting each detail of the village.

"Let's see. Is there anything else for the master to find wrong?" Again, he examined each house closely.

At last, he turned away, walking toward a path.

"He'll probably be looking at the waterfront, too," he told himself, "and at the lodge."

He walked slowly along the path, checking the forest floor as he went.

As he got to the beach, he looked toward the pier, then winced.

A few hundred yards out in the lake, a high wedge of water was sweeping toward him. At the apex of the vee, he could see the shape of a boat, its bow riding high over the water.

"Oh, no," he groaned to himself. "Trouble again!" He waited.