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.