He was feeling better now. He turned his attention to the control crystal and the boat swung about, to make its way back toward the lake.
It took longer than he had thought it would. It was evening of the day after the death of Dar Makun when Barra turned in his seat and raised his hand, then waved it in a wide circle.
A quickly directed thought halted his mount and he looked about once more, at the thick forest.
This clearing was as close to the village of Celdalo as he wanted to come. The villagers never came into this heavy screen of trees, but beyond the forest, there might be some who would watch and wonder. He smiled grimly.
Of course, it didn’t make too much difference what slaves might think—if [p 33] they could think at all, but there was no reason to leave unnecessary traces of the day’s work.
He swung about in his cushions and looked back at the line of draft beasts. They were swinging out of line now, to form a semicircle, facing the trees ahead.
He impressed an order on his mount to stand, then lifted himself out of the cushioned seat between the armor fins. For a few seconds, he hovered, looking down at the beast he had been riding.
Yes, he thought, he would do well to raise a few of these creatures. They were tractable and comfortable to ride. A good many caravan masters might be persuaded to get rid of their less comfortable mounts in exchange for one of these, once they had tried a day’s march.
One by one, the big saurians came to the forest edge and entered the clearing, then crouched, to let their drivers swing to the ground. Barra looked at the lead driver.
“Make your cargo stack over here,” he ordered, “at this side of the clearing. You will wait here for your master.”