Gunpowder Empire

Five

Jeremy thought people were looking at him. He had to go out in Polisso and pretend everything was normal. Mom and Dad had been gone for only a few hours. Jeremy felt as if his shield against the world were gone, too. Responsibilities weighed a million kilos. If he made a bad mistake, he couldn't pass any part of it on to someone else. It was his.

And he worried about Mom. Appendicitis was something simple enough to fix on the home timeline. But all the same, even doctors said the only minor surgery was surgery you didn't have to have. If something went wrong… Or if it turned out not to be appendicitis, but something worse…

He wouldn't think about that. He told himself so, again and again. It was like trying not to think of a green-and-orange zebra. You could tell yourself you wouldn't. You could tell yourself all sorts of things. The thought kept returning just the same.

“Furs! I have fine furs!” a Lietuvan trader shouted. Jeremy kept on walking through the market square. He didn't want furs. He wanted to tell the Lietuvan what he thought of him for selling them. He couldn't. A real Agrippan Roman might not have bought fur, but he wouldn't have minded anyone selling it.

And the locals call the Lietuvans barbarians, Jeremy thought. They're more alike than they are different.

They had reason to be, of course. Rome and Lietuva had lived next door to each other for a thousand years. They'd fought wars against each other. They'd traded. Ideas had gone across their border along with trade goods. NeoLatin had words for things like amber and wax and slave that were borrowed from Lietuvan. Lietuvan had more words taken from classical Latin and neoLatin: a whole host of technical terms, as well as words like wine and wheel and ship.

Another Lietuvan in a fur jacket called, “Here! You are a young man! Buy yourself a slave girl! She's well trained. She'll do what you tell her.” He leered.

The girl he pointed at was blond and skinny and broad-faced, with high cheekbones. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old. Her threadbare tunic was filthy. She didn't look well trained. She looked scared to death.

“You want her?” the Lietuvan asked. “I'll give you a good price.”

“No.” Again, Jeremy kept on walking. Behind him, the Lietuvan said something in his own language. Whatever it was, it wasn't praise. Jeremy didn't care. He discovered he'd only thought being offered furs was disgusting. Now he found the real thing. If he gave the trader enough silver, the fellow would sell him the girl.

He couldn't. Dealing in slaves, even to set them free, was as illegal as could be for crosstime traders. Setting her free wouldn't do her much of a favor, anyhow. What was called freedom here was often only the freedom to starve. Keeping her was just as much out of the question. She would ask questions the traders couldn't answer, see things she wasn't supposed to see, and learn things the locals shouldn't know. Whatever happened to her would just have to happen.

“Good luck,” Jeremy whispered. She would need it. He hoped she got an easy master. There were some: quite a few, in fact. That wasn't really the problem with slavery. The problem with slavery was that there were masters, period.

“Plums! Peaches! Who'll buy my plums and peaches?” a peasant woman called. She wore a bright scarf wrapped around her head. Years of weathering had left her cheeks almost the same color as the plums in her basket. The peaches here were smaller and paler than the ones Jeremy knew from the home timeline. They didn't taste just the same, either. They weren't quite so sweet, but they had a spicy flavor he liked.

He haggled long enough to look normal, then took a small basket full of them back to the house. He'd brought the basket himself. Nobody here gave out shopping bags or anything like them.

Amanda opened the door as soon as he knocked. Smiles wreathed her face. “You've heard from Dad!” Jeremy exclaimed.

His sister nodded. “It was her appendix, and now it's out, and she's going to be fine.”

Some of the weight fell from Jeremy's shoulders. “That's… about the best news there is,” he said. “Did Dad say how long he'll stay back there?”

“A few days,” Amanda answered. “He can't be quite sure yet, 'cause he has to see how Mom's doing. But he said he'd get back here as soon as he could. And Mom shouldn't be more than a couple of weeks-but she'll have to wear a patch of false skin over the scar when she goes to the baths.”

“I hadn't thought of that,” Jeremy said, but it made sense when he did. Nobody here had a scar like that. Agrippan Rome knew no anesthetics. It had no antibiotics. It had never heard of sterile operating techniques. A wound in the belly meant sure death from infection.

“It doesn't matter,” Amanda said. “She's going to be okay. That does.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded. Yes, some of the weight was off. Things would get back to normal pretty soon. Now he could concentrate on how much business he and Amanda did before Dad came back to Polisso.

And he could tell Michael Fujikawa the good news. He stayed up late to try and catch Michael getting up. When he went to the laptop in the hidden part of the basement, he found a message waiting for him. How's your mom doing?

“She went back to the home timeline,” he answered, as if his friend were standing there in front of him. The computer transcribed his words. “It was appendicitis. Dad was right about that. They took out her appendix. She'll be back in a couple of weeks. Dad says he'll be back in a few days-as soon as he's sure she's all right. She should be. The operation went fine.”

He waited. He didn't have to wait long. Michael must have been sitting at the laptop that connected them across the skein of alternates. That's terrific! he said. I'm sorry she had to have the operation, but now she'll be okay. So you and Amanda are by yourselves? How you doing?

“We're okay,” Jeremy said. “We can manage on our own for a little while, anyway. I want to see how much we can sell before Dad gets here again.”

There you go, Michael told him. Show him what you can do by.

The message stopped there. Jeremy frowned, waiting for Michael to go on. But only the incomplete sentence stared at him. After half a minute or so, new words formed on the screen: TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED. NO CONTACT WITH HOME TIMELINE.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jeremy asked. The message program was still running, so those words went up on the monitor, too. “You there, Michael?” That appeared, too. What didn't appear was an answer from Michael Fujikawa.

Muttering, Jeremy ordered the computer to send the message. He got the same error report as before: TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED. NO CONTACT WITH HOME TIMELINE.

“But I'm not even trying to send to the home timeline,” Jeremy protested. He really did swear when he saw those words go up on the screen. Then a chill ran through him. He wasn't trying to send to the home timeline, but everything went through it. He called up the address code for the Crosstime Traffic office in Moigrad. That was the home timeline's counterpart of this place. “Is everything all right there?” he asked, and told the laptop to send.

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED. NO CONTACT WITH HOME TIMELINE.

That wasn't good at all-not even slightly. Something had gone wrong somewhere between here and the world where he'd been born.

He tried Michael one more time, and got the same error message. Really scared now, he left-fled-the basement. The secret door closed behind him.

Amanda was not someone who gave in to panic. She was someone who always tried to look on the bright side of things.

That was one reason her brother sometimes drove her crazy. Of course, Jeremy had woken her out of a sound sleep to tell her about the error message. She was not at her best yawning in the middle of the night.

She went down to the basement to try to send messages to the home timeline herself. When she found she couldn't, either, she went back to her bedroom. “It'll be fine in the morning,” she said.

“How do you know that?” Jeremy demanded.

“Because nothing's ever as awful when the sun comes out as it is at three in the morning, or whatever time it is now,” Amanda answered. Then she shut the door in his face.

The computer still wouldn't send messages when she got up in the morning. That wasn't good news. It was, in fact, very bad news. With the sun shining down brightly on the courtyard, though, it didn't seem so bad.

Before long, Amanda was too busy to worry about it anyway. She and her mother had had all they could do to keep the house in some kind of order and to keep everybody fed without help from servants or slaves. Now she had to do it without Mom around. It was more work than one human being could do.

She tried to get Jeremy to help. He didn't want to. That made her lose her temper. “You listen to me, Jeremy,” she snapped. “If you don't do what needs doing, I'll tell Dad when he gets back here. Then you'll catch it. And you know what else? You'll deserve it, too.”

He helped. He was surly about it. He helped less than he would have if he'd known what he was doing. Sometimes just having an extra pair of hands and an extra pair of eyes made a difference, though.

Breaking off from the housework to deal with customers every once in a while didn't help, either. The one good thing about that was that nobody asked them, Where are your mother and father? The locals probably thought they would get better deals from the younger people in the family. They were wrong, but it kept them from being too curious.

Two days passed. Three days. Four. Five. The computer kept giving the same error report whenever Amanda and Jeremy tried to send a message. No message from any of the other alternates or the home timeline came in.

And Dad didn't come back to Polisso.

At first, Amanda wondered whether that was because something had gone wrong with Mom. No way to know for sure, not when the message system was down. As one day followed another, though, she began to realize that probably wasn't the problem.

“I think something's wrong with the transposition chamber,” she said to Jeremy at supper the sixth night.

When she put it that way, it didn't sound so bad. If she'd said, I'm afraid we're stuck here forever, it would have seemed much worse. But it would have meant the same thing.

Her brother was sucking marrow out of a lamb shank. Amanda thought that took realism too far, but Jeremy really did like marrow. Air and marrow going through the center of the bone made a gross noise. He smacked his lips.

“You may be right,” he said, scratching his chin. He was growing the scraggly beginnings of a beard. Razors here, even the straight razors the traders sold, were nothing but long, slim knives. No neat blades in plastic safety housings. You could do yourself some serious damage if you weren't careful. From what he said, the beard itched coming in.

“Maybe we ought to go out to the chamber outside of town,” Amanda said.

“We can if you want to,” Jeremy said. “I don't think it'll do much good, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because if that one were working, Dad would have come through it by now, along with technicians to fix whatever's wrong with this one.”

“Oh.” Amanda winced. That made more sense than she wished it did. She tried to stay optimistic. “We ought to check anyway.”

“All right. I'll go tomorrow,” Jeremy said.

Amanda wished he didn't make sense there, too, but he did. Anyone on the road was much less likely to give a large young man trouble than a young woman. That was unfortunate, which didn't make it any less true. She said, “What could make both transposition chambers stop working at the same time?”

“I don't know,” her brother answered bleakly. “I've been chewing on that for three or four days now, and I haven't got any sure answers.”

Three or four days? That was a day or two longer than Amanda had been worrying. Jeremy hadn't let on how worried he was till now. Amanda said, “What are some of the things you've thought of?”

“Maybe there was an earthquake in the home timeline.” That could have been true. Quakes happened randomly across timelines. “Maybe the transposition operators are out on strike.” That was a joke; the chambers could go automatically 99.999 (and probably several more nines after that) percent of the time. Jeremy went on: “Maybe the operators are still filling out Agrippan Roman forms.“ That was a joke, too-sort of.

“What are we going to do if a chamber… doesn't show up for a while?” Amanda asked.

“The best we can,” her brother answered. “What else can we do?”

“Nothing,” she said unhappily.

“When people do come back for us, we'll be the richest pair in Polisso,” Jeremy said.

“That sounds good,” Amanda said. Her brother grinned at her. She knew he was trying to keep up her spirits along with his own, and liked him for it. After a second, she stuck a finger in the air-the sign she'd thought of something. “From now on, we'd better take money for everything we sell.”

“How come?” Jeremy asked. Then he looked foolish. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Amanda said. “What would we do with all that grain if we couldn't ship it back to the home timeline? It'd start coming out of our ears.”

“Uh-huh.” Jeremy nodded. “Then when things do get straightened out again, that'll make things more complicated, because the locals will keep wanting to buy for cash. But we can worry about that later. Right now, we'll just do what we've got to do to keep going.”

Do what we've got to do to keep going. That made a lot of sense to Amanda. It was simple. It was practical. And it meant she didn't have to think about nasty possibilities. If the transposition chamber couldn't come back for a few weeks, that was one thing. If it couldn't come back for a few years, that was something else again. No matter how much energy the batteries stored, they'd run dry sooner or later. Then Amanda and Jeremy would be on even terms with the locals, and they'd stay that way till they got rescued.

And if for some reason the chamber couldn't come back at all…

Then we're stuck here, Amanda thought. The chill that ran through her was colder than winter at the South Pole. Polisso was a nice enough place to visit; plenty of alternates were worse. But to live here? To speak neoLatin the rest of her days and forget English? To have to forget that women were just as good as men and could do anything men could? To say goodbye to doctors and dentists and ice cream and deodorant and malls and Copernicus and the SPCA and everything she'd grown up with?

Jeremy said something under his breath. She thought it was Robinson Crusoe. She didn't want to ask him, for fear she was right. Why wouldn't he be thinking along with her, though? They would be even more isolated from their homes than Robinson Crusoe ever was. At least he'd stayed in his own world.

“We know Mom's all right. That's the important thing,” Jeremy said.

“Sure.” Amanda made herself sound perky. If her brother didn't want to think about getting stuck here, how could she blame him? She didn't want to think about it, either.

A literate soldier poised pen over papyrus. “Reason for leaving the city?” he asked.

“I'm just going out for a walk,” Jeremy answered. “It's a nice day. And I'm sick of smelling smoke and garbage in here.”

“Reason for leaving the city: constitutional.” The guard at the western gate wrote that down, then laughed. Jeremy realized the fellow wasn't much older than he was himself. When the local smiled, he looked like a kid. He said, “The city stink does get to you, doesn't it? But when you get out of it for a while, it's even worse when you come back.”

“I've noticed that, too,” Jeremy said.

“You'll be back by sunset?” the soldier asked. “There's another form if you stay out longer.”

“By sunset,” Jeremy promised.

“All right,” the guard said. “If you come in late, now, there's a fine for giving false information.”

“There would be,” Jeremy said. The guard laughed again. He thought Jeremy was kidding. Jeremy knew he wasn't. Life in Agrippan Rome broke down into a million separate boxes. If you stepped outside any of them, or if you stepped into one where you'd said you wouldn't go, you had to pay.

Even the law here worked like that. For two thousand years and more, lawmakers and lawyers had tried to take life apart and look at each possible deed. If you were accused of doing something wrong, they would fit it into a pigeonhole- stealing sheep worth between twenty and forty denari, for instance. Then they would decide whether you'd done it. If they decided you had, another pigeonhole told them exactly how to punish you. To Jeremy, that kind of precise control felt like a straitjacket. The locals took it for granted.

“Pass on,” the gate guard said, and Jeremy did.

A hawk wheeled overhead. There were rabbits in the fields. The hawks weren't the only ones to eat them. Sometimes the locals would hunt them with dogs and nets. Rabbit stew could be tasty. No matter what people in the home timeline said, it didn't taste like chicken.

Jeremy realized he hadn't been outside Polisso since coming here. The town couldn't have been even a kilometer square. He traveled several times that distance every day he went to high school. When you were on foot all the time, though, distance stretched dramatically.

A few tombstones poked up through the tall grass on either side of the road. Time had blurred the carvings on them. The locals didn't bury people inside the walls. That wasn't because they thought dead bodies left there might spread disease; they'd never heard of germs, and had no idea how disease spread. The only pollution they worried about was the religious kind.

As Jeremy reached the bend that put Polisso out of sight behind him, he stopped in the middle of the road. Except for the faintest ripple of the wind through the grass and a starling's distant, metallic call, silence was absolute. That kind of quiet was something he didn't get to know in Los Angeles. There was always a murmur of traffic noise there, of airplanes and helicopters overhead, and of the neighbors' TVs or radios or computers or stereos. There was also the sixty-cycle hum of electricity. You didn't constantly notice it, but it was around whenever you went indoors.

Not here. This was just… nothing. The starling fell silent. All Jeremy could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. He hardly ever realized it was there, but it seemed very loud now.

When he started walking again, each thump of his sandal on the paving stones might have come from a giant's heavy boots. He tried to go on tiptoe to be quieter. It didn't seem to do much good.

He concentrated so hard on being quiet, he almost walked past the cave that hid the transposition chamber. That would have been great. He looked ahead. He turned around and looked behind. No one coming either way. He left the road and went over to the mouth of the cave. He had to cast around a bit before he found the hidden trapdoor close by. Grunting with effort, he lifted it and went down the tunnel pathway that led back into the cave.

Almost everything inside the cave seemed the same as it had when his family got here. Only one thing was missing: the transposition chamber. He hadn't expected to find that there. It would have been nice, but he hadn't expected it.

He turned on the PowerBook sitting on a table in a niche farther back in the cave. The computer came to life right away. He sent a message to the Crosstime Traffic electronic monitor in the home timeline that checked this machine's output. He tried to send one, anyway.

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED. NO CONTACT WITH HOME TIMELINE.

Jeremy said several choice things, in neoLatin and in English. Again, he wasn't really surprised, but he was disappointed. Whatever had gone wrong had gone wrong here as well as at the chamber inside Polisso. He'd feared that was true. As he'd told Amanda, Dad-or somebody-would have come out of a chamber here and fixed the problem with the one under the house if it weren't.

After running out of curses, Jeremy said one thing more: “Well, I tried.” Now he and Amanda knew help wasn't right around the corner. They'd already been pretty sure of that. Finding out they were right was news they needed, not news they wanted. For the time being-however long the time being turned out to be-they were on their own.

He thought about growing old and dying in Polisso. Then he thought about not growing old but dying in Polisso. There was a lot more wear and tear here than back in Los Angeles. There were a lot fewer ways to fix anything that went wrong, too.

Filled with such gloomy thoughts, he went to the monitors to make sure he could safely leave. He got a surprise then, and not a pleasant one. An army was coming up the highway toward Polisso.

It was a Roman army. The standard-bearers carried gilded eagles above the letters SPQR. Those stood for Senatus popu-lusque Romanus: “the Senate and people of Rome” in classical Latin. The Senate, these days, was a powerless rich men's club. The people had no voice in politics, and hadn't for two thousand years. The slogan lived on.

Some cavalrymen were heavily armored lancers. Others were archers, with quivers full of arrows on their backs. The big, clumsy matchlock pistols they had here weren't practical for horsemen. Behind the cavalry squadrons marched troop after troop of foot soldiers. Some men carried tall pikes. Others shouldered matchlock muskets. They laughed and joked and sang as they tramped along.

Their being here said they were liable to see action before long. The government wouldn't reinforce Polisso if it didn't think trouble likely. That kind of trouble could come from only one place: Lietuva.

Jeremy remembered the gate guard who'd asked if he and his family were Lietuvan spies. The soldier had been kidding, but he'd been kidding on the square. Were some of the Lietuvan traders in town real spies? Jeremy would have been surprised if someone in Polisso weren't looking into that right now. He wouldn't have wanted to be a Lietuvan trader here. No one in this world had ever heard of laws against illegal search and seizure.

The army's baggage train followed the foot soldiers. Cannon rattled along on wheeled carriages. Wagons carried food and gunpowder and lead for bullets and stone or iron cannonballs. Other wagons held surgeons and their supplies, clerks to keep track of pay records and such, and farriers and blacksmiths and veterinarians to care for the horses.

Those cannon made Jeremy especially thoughtful. Polisso already had a lot of artillery. The central government wouldn't move more in unless it really worried about an attack.

Normally, Jeremy and his family wouldn't have had to fear a war. If it got bad, they could hop into a transposition chamber and leave it behind. But, at least for now, he and Amanda were stuck here. That made him take things more seriously than he would have otherwise.

He was also stuck here-in this cave-till the army marched past and went into Polisso. He couldn't come out while soldiers might spot him. They would wonder what he'd been doing there. Spying on them? The way things were, that would have to occur to them. They would ask questions. They wouldn't be polite about it-or gentle, either.

Up till then, he'd never worried about how long an army took to pass any particular place. While he was waiting, it seemed like forever. In fact, it was several hours. He kept looking down at his wrist to find out just how long. That would have worked better if he'd worn a wristwatch. In Agrippan Rome, he couldn't. Even the big mechanical pocket watches Crosstime Traffic traders sold here were way ahead of the state of the art.

At last, the coast was clear. Jeremy scooted out of the cave and made it to the road before anybody coming from Polisso spotted him. He sauntered toward the city as if he had not a care in the world. Pretending to be carefree took more acting than anything else he'd done since coming to this alternate.

Pretending to be carefree also proved the wrong role. Travelers in Polisso hadn't been allowed to leave while the army was going in. A gray-haired merchant leading a train of mules was the first man who came up to Jeremy. The merchant stared at him and said, “Boy, don't you know there's a gods-cursed army just ahead of you?”

Jeremy couldn't very well claim he didn't know. The horses and oxen of the cavalry and baggage train had left unmistakable hints an army was on the move. So he smiled and shrugged and nodded.

The merchant's eyes got bigger yet. “Well, then, don't you know you're an idiot?”

If he'd smiled and shrugged and nodded again, the older man would have been sure he was one. Instead, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? What am I talking about?“ The merchant seemed convinced he was an idiot anyway. ”The gods must watch over fools like you, even if you are a big, strong fool. Don't you think those soldiers would have grabbed you and put you in a helmet if they'd spotted you?“

“Gurk,” Jeremy said. The man with the mule train seemed to think that was the first sensible thing to come out of his mouth. He got his mules going again and left Jeremy standing in the middle of the road. After a couple of minutes, Jeremy walked on to Polisso.

Other travelers coming out of the city sent him strange looks. They too must have wondered what he was doing ambling along in the army's wake. None of them asked him any questions, though. They just went on about their own business.

When he got back to Polisso, the gate guard who'd let him out of the city checked him back in. He too said, “You're lucky the soldiers didn't see you.” After a moment, he took off his helmet and scratched his head. “How come they didn't?”

“I'd gone off the road when they came. I was trying to knock over rabbits with rocks,” Jeremy answered. He spread his hands. “No luck.”

“I wouldn't think so.” The gate guard laughed at the idea. “You'd need a cursed lot of it to hit one.” Then he laughed again. “And when you saw the soldiers, I'll bet you bloody well made sure they didn't see you.”

“Well-yes.” Jeremy had been inside the cave. Of course they hadn't seen him. But he could agree without actually lying. The guard clapped him on the back and waved him into Polisso. He didn't have good news for Amanda: no sign of the transposition chamber and no contact with the home timeline. But he was happy just the same. The good news was, he would be able to tell her the bad news in person. He hadn't been pulled into the army.

What would happen if there really was a war? He did his best not to think about that.

In the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson complained that the King of England quartered his soldiers on the American colonists. Amanda remembered that from the U.S. History class she'd taken two years before. It hadn't meant anything to her then except one more fact she had to know for a test. People in the United States hadn't had soldiers quartered on them for a long, long time.

But she wasn't in the United States any more. Some of her neighbors had soldiers living in their houses and eating their food. She and Jeremy were lucky it hadn't happened to them.

“I wonder why they didn't try to give us any soldiers,” she said at breakfast, two days after the army came to Polisso.

“They like what we sell, and they don't want to make us so angry we'll go away and won't come back,” Jeremy answered, spooning up barley mush. “That's the only thing I can think of.”

“What do we do if they say, 'Here, take these four'?” Amanda asked.

“I'm going to give the city prefect a couple of thousand denari,” Jeremy said. “Why not? Silver's not much more than play money for us. I'll tell him to use it to buy food for the reinforcements. We'll do that instead of letting them in here.”

“Can you be smooth enough to get away with it?” Amanda asked.

Her older brother shrugged. “I can-because I have to. Dad would probably do a better job of it, but he's not here. That leaves me.”

“I'm not a potted plant, you know,” Amanda said.

“No, but you're a girl,” Jeremy answered. “As far as the locals are concerned, you might as well be a potted plant.”

That stung, especially because it was true. Amanda's chin went up. “So what?”

Jeremy held up a hand. “Look, I know it's no big thing. Everybody you've skinned on a deal here knows it's no big thing. But if you go try to talk to the city prefect, what will he and his flunkies see? A girl. Guys like that are like principals- they can't see past the end of their noses.“

The principal at Canoga Park High was a woman. That didn't spoil Jeremy's point: Ms. Williams definitely couldn't see past the end of her nose. Amanda sighed. “All right,” she said. “No, not all right, because it isn't. But I can see why you've got to be the one who goes. Macho!” She spat that out as if it were the dirtiest word ever invented. Right then, she felt it was.

“Most alternates that haven't had an industrial revolution are like this,” Jeremy said. “If you don't have machines, size and strength count for more than they do with us. Guys don't have babies, either.”

“It's still not right,” Amanda said.

“Did I tell you it was?” Her brother gave her a don't-blame-me look. “But even if it's not-even though it's not- it's real.”

And that was also true, and also stung. But the next day, Jeremy went to see the city prefect. Amanda went to the public water fountain with a jug on her hip to listen to the talk there. That's what people here think women are good for, she thought. Carrying water and gossip. And I can't even rock the boat.

There was gossip, too-plenty of it. A plump woman with an enormous wart on the end of her nose spoke in important tones: “I hear the city prefect ordered all the Lietuvan traders out of Polisso last night.”

“No, that isn't true,” the slave girl named Maria said. “A lot of them are leaving, but they're leaving on their own.”

“How do you know so much?” The woman with the wart- not a regular at the fountain-looked down her nose past it at the slave.

Maria didn't get angry. Amanda had never seen her get angry. Maybe that was because she was a slave and couldn't afford to. Maybe it was because she was a Christian-what they called a strong Christian here, not an Imperial Christian- and didn't believe in it. Or maybe she was just a nice person. She said, “I pray with a girl who serves at the inn where the Lietuvans stay. That's what she told me.”

“Well, I heard my news from someone who heard it from the city prefect's second secretary's cousin's hairdresser,” the plump woman said.

Amanda laughed out loud. If that woman thought her account trumped what an eyewitness said… But a couple of the other ladies filling water jugs were nodding, too. They must have believed it did. Both of them were free and fairly prosperous. As far as Amanda could see, both of them were also fairly dumb.

“Too bad they'll let the Lietuvans go,” one of those ladies said. “We could hold them for hostages in case the barbarians attack.”

“What would the Lietuvans do to Romans they caught, then?” Amanda asked. She didn't call the woman a jerk, no matter what she thought.

“Well, they'd do that anyway. They are barbarians,“ the woman answered. All the women gathered around the fountain nodded this time. Maybe the Lietuvans really did do horrible things to any Romans they caught. Maybe the Romans just thought they did. How was anybody supposed to know for sure? Go out and let the Lietuvans capture you? That didn't seem like a good idea to Amanda.

A squad of soldiers marched by. Nobody in Agrippan Rome had ever heard of the wolf whistle, but the men in the dull red surcoats had no trouble getting the message across. Guys in Los Angeles usually weren't so crude. Amanda turned her back on the soldiers. That only made them laugh.

Some of the other women just ignored the men's leers and gestures and suggestions. A few of them smiled back, though. That horrified Amanda. If they encouraged the soldiers, those men would go right on acting that way. They would think they were right to act that way.

How could she say that, so someone who'd spent her whole life in Agrippan Rome would understand? It wasn't easy. People here took lots of things for granted that nobody in the home timeline would have put up with for a minute. The best Amanda could do was, “If you give them a smile, they'll only want more.”

“Maybe I will, too, dearie,” a woman twice her age said. Everybody except Amanda laughed. And she didn't push it any more. What was the use? She wasn't going to change this alternate single-handed.

She wished she hadn't had that thought. If she really was stuck here, how much would this alternate end up changing her?