training Var had received had been as much to exercise the Master gradually as to profit the wild boy. And it had been common knowledge that the Master avoided the badlands with almost cowardly care.
Obviously he was not afraid. Why had he let men think he was? Was this what he had referred to just now that other kind of courage? But what reason could there be for it?
Deep in the badlands, but in a place where there was no radiation, there was a camp. Strange warriors manned it men Var had never seen before. They wore funny green clothing riddled with knobs and pockets, and on their heads were inverted pots. They carried metal rocks.
The leader of this odd tribe came up promptly. He was short, stout, old, and bad curly yellow hair. Obviously unfit to fight in the circle. 'This is Jim,' the Master said. 'Var the Stick,' he added, completing the introduction.
The two men eyed each other suspiciously.
'Jim and Var,' the Master said, smiling grimly, 'you don't know each other, but I want you to accept my word on this: you can trust each. other. You both have had similar misfortunes. Jim whose brother of the same name went to the mountain twenty years ago, Var whose whole family was lost in the badlands.'
Var still was not impressed, and the other man seemed to share his sentiment. To be without family was no signal of merit.
'Var is a warrior I have personally trained. His skin is immediately sensitive to radiation, so that he cannot accidentally be burned, no matter where he goes.'
Jim became intensely, interested.
'And Jim-Jim the Gun, if you want his weapon-is literate. He and I made contact by letter years ago, when the the need developed. He has studied the old texts, and knows as much as any man among the nomads about explosive weapons. He is training this group in the ancient techniques of warfare.'
Var recognized the man's weapon now. It was one of the metal stones that were stored in certain badlands buildings. But it hardly seemed suitable for use in the circle. It had no cutting edge, and was far too small and clumsy to serve as a club. And once thrown, it would be lost.
'Var will be liaison man between this group and the outside,' the Master said. 'Assuming he is willing. Later he'll be an advance scout, but I want him to know how to shoot, too.'
Jim and Var still merely looked at each other. 'I'll break the ice,' the Master said. 'Then i'll have to go back before someone misses me. Var, fetch that jug over there, if you please.' He pointed across a field to a brown ceramic jar perched on an old stump.
Jim started to say something, but the Master held up his hand. Var loped toward it. About half the way he skidded to a stop. His skin was burning, He retreated a few paces and circled to the side, looking for a way around the radiation.
It took him several minutes, but finally he found a channel and reached the jug. He brought it back, retracing his devious route. The Master and Jim had been joined by a dozen other men, all watching silently.
Var handed over the jug.
'It's true! A living geiger!' Jim exclaimed, amazed. 'We can use him, all right.'
The Master returned the jug to Var. 'Set it on the ground about fifty feet away, if you please.'
Var complied.
'Demonstrate your shotgun,' the Master said to Jim.
The man went into a tent and brought out an object like a sheathed sword. He held it up, pointing the narrow end toward the jug.
'There will be noise,' the Master warned Var. 'It will not harm you. I suggest you watch the jug.'
Var did so. Suddenly a blast of thunder occurred beside him, making him jump and grab for his weapon. The distant jug shattered as though smashed by a club. No one had touched it or thrown anything at it.
'Pieces of metal from this long gun did that,' the Master said. 'Jim will show you how it works. Stay with him, as you choose; I will return another day.' And he left, cantering as before.
