Dontor smiled. "You should have paid more attention to your course in practical seamanship," he chided. "We are sailing fairly close hauled, so our speed is added to that of the wind. And, since storms move, it'll pass us shortly." He pointed to the horizon. "See that small break in the clouds? That indicates a possibility of clear weather beyond. We should be through the worst of the storm in a matter of a few hours. And we'll never reach the really dangerous core of the storm, for we are passing through an edge of it. Our only problem is to keep from losing a mast during the time we are close to the storm's heart." He paused, looking aloft. "The crew is competent. They have the sails properly reefed, and, if necessary, they can furl them in short order. What trouble can we have?" "Thank you, sir." The younger priest bowed again. "I will make the necessary arrangements for those goods." Dontor stood for a moment, surveying the ship, then walked toward the helm. "If I am ever in charge of operations," he told himself, "I will replace some of these sailors by neophyte priests, and let them steer by their own compasses. This method is too cumbersome. Besides, the neophytes should get to sea earlier, anyway." He approached the pilot priest, who stood apart from the helmsman, his slave holding the little red box with the compass. "How is our course?" The priest turned, then bowed. "We are off course twelve degrees to the north, sir," he reported. "I have instructed the helmsman to come as close to the wind as possible." Dontor nodded. "Very good," he approved. "Keep track of your time, and we'll correct when we get a chance to shift course to the south. We can determine whatever final correction is necessary at noon sight tomorrow." Alnar came up the ladder to the quarterdeck. Approaching Dontor, he bowed in salute, then reported. [Illustration] "The goods are ready, sir." "Very well. Find those two traders and give them the usual ten per cent, then bring me an inventory of the remainder." * * * * * Musa stood, fists clenched, facing the recorder play-back. "The usual ten per cent, he says! Why, I'd like to slaughter the lot of those murdering thieves!" Lanko snapped off the switch. "Don't blame them too much," he laughed. "After all, they're only trying to make a living, and it's the only trade they know." As Musa nearly choked on his attempted reply, Banasel broke in. "Sure," he chuckled. "Besides, it's guys like them that keep guys like us in business." Lanko noticed the horrified expression on Musa's face, and quickly composed himself. He put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Look," he explained seriously, "if we got so we took people like these to heart, we'd spend half our time getting psyched to unsnarl our own mental processes." He gestured to the reels of tape in a cabinet.