"And you know me already." They both laughed. Then the discman's broad, bronzed face sobered. "You seek explanations...." "At least, they'd help me," Craig nodded, grinning wryly. "Then they must be brief. That Zenaor's a devil. He'll trace us in minutes, on a daylight landing." Bukal kicked the disc. "Do you know what this is?" Craig eyed it curiously. Flat, polished, of plastic or metal, it measured a good six feet across. Beyond that, he could tell little, save that it had neither moving parts nor control equipment, so far as he could see. "It flies, and it saved my neck," he said finally. "That's all I know about it." Again, Bukal laughed. A grim laugh without mirth. "Then I'll tell you rover. This thing is a weapon--a weapon of peace, one that can't kill; yet it's going to break the cursed Kukzubas barons' power forever." "But how--?" Craig groped for words. "How does it work, you mean?" The bronzed, stocky Bukal chuckled. "Magnetic waves--you know about them?" "Yes, after a fashion." "Then think of them flowing from pole to pole like some great river." Craig stared. "You mean--these discs of yours ride the current--?" "As chips ride a stream," the other nodded. "The secret lies in the alloy's basic pattern, its molecular structure. It serves as a filter--a trap that catches enough wave-power to lift and carry." "And to maneuver--" "You tilt the disc. That breaks the flow-pattern." Shifting, Craig's rescuer peered out through the brush that fringed the river's edge. He gestured. "When our visitors get closer, I'll show you." * * * * * Craig followed the other's movement: saw a boatload of men in guards' regalia cutting swiftly toward the islet from the river's near shore. "They're quick," he acknowledged. And then, prompting: "You said discs were weapons." Bukal's eyes went dark, brooding. "How much do you know of our ways here on Lysor?" "Only that you have two groups, barons and Baemae--" "Do you know how the barons hold their power?" "No." "They do it with a weapon--a barrier ray, they call it--" Bukal's mouth had a bitter twist--"It sets up zones of death around the cities, the great estates--binds us to our serfdom." "And the discs--" "They give us a bridge across the barrier--a highway to freedom to end our thousand years of bondage!" Of a sudden a tight wolf-grin wiped the bitterness from Bukal's broad face. He surged to his feet. "Here. Let me show you!" A cry of excitement rose from the guardsmen out on the river. The boat arced towards Craig and bronzed Bukal. The Baemae laughed aloud. Bending, he seized the disc and lifted it on edge. "You see? It is light!" Craig brought up his own hand beneath it. For all its size, the thing seemed hardly heavier than balsa.