Marauder

4

As Hunter led the team down the winding streets toward the waterfront, he turned up the sensitivity in both his hearing and his vision. Every warning Rita had given about the violence of buccaneer culture had sharpened his concerns under the First Law. He would have to evaluate each sight and sound for potential threats.

The strong scent of the sea came to him on the wind well before they reached the waterfront. All along the docks, torches were burning over the doors of taverns and over open-air booths, where wares of all kinds were for sale, including earthenware, knitting, and fabrics. The smell of oily smoke was thick. He looked through the crowd of people for someone the size of MC 2.

“There,” said Rita, pointing.

“MC 2?” Hunter looked around.

“No, Hunter.” Rita laughed. “Just a booth where we can all arm ourselves.”

“Hey, look at that stuff,” said Steve enthusiastically, hurrying over to the booth. “All kinds of knives, pistols, swords…wow.”

“Try them out,” said the proprietor, in a French accent. He was a bony, gray-haired man wearing only knee breeches and a large, gold earring. His bare feet were calloused and black with the rich island dirt. “Heft them, feel their weight. I am Henri the Ironmonger.”

Steve picked up a flintlock pistol and turned it to one side, so that it pointed away from everyone. He looked at it carefully, then cocked it and pulled the trigger with a satisfying click. Then he set it down on the rough wooden table and picked up something else.

“This is good,” said Rita, picking up a long, curved dagger. “I can wear it in a sash, where people can see it. And it’s not too heavy for me to use.”

“I see,” said Jane. More reluctantly, she picked up a straight dagger of about the same length. “I don’t know if I could use this on anyone.”

“You probably won’t have to,” said Rita.

“What? Then what’s the point?”

“The idea is to make some of these guys think twice about bothering us in the first place. With Hunter to protect us and these knives out where everyone can see them, we just might be left alone.”

“I see.”

Rita stepped back and made a couple of stabbing motions in the air, then swung the dagger around experimentally.

“But why are you so particular, if you don’t think you’ll have to use it-” Jane started.

“Maybewe won’t have to use them,” Rita reminded her, with a grin. “We want something we can handle, just in case.”

“These are all so cruel,” said Hunter, examining the weapons on the table. He felt a sense of alarm, reminded of how quickly the First Law could come into effect with so many weapons around. “They are intended only for committing grave harm to other humans.”

“Where have you been, my gigantic friend?” Henri the Ironmonger laughed. “Taking vows in a monastery?”

“No,” said Hunter, cautiously.

“Try a cutlass,” said Rita quickly. She raised up the handle of one of the long, curved swords. “You can handle a heavy weapon.” Then she lowered her voice. “Remember, you’re a buccaneer. Think of it as playacting.”

“And you have permission to lie as part of the playacting,” said Jane softly. “Under the Second Law, I instruct you to maintain your role as a buccaneer.”

“Acknowledged,” said Hunter, accepting the cutlass. Imitating Rita’s earlier moves, he stepped away from the others and swung it around in the air a couple of times. At the same time, he accessed some of his data on buccaneers, including some children’s books he had recorded. “Avast, matey.”

The three humans on his team laughed.

“Aye, a big fellow like yourself can use a big sword like that one,” said Henri. “No sense in a strong, strapping man wasting his time with some little frog sticker. Lost your old sword, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Rita said quickly. “Overboard. It was, uh, a difficult moment.”

“I’ve had my share of those,” said Henri, nodding sympathetically. “I may not look it now, but I have.” He grinned, showing only a couple of teeth.

“Steve,” said Hunter. He was uncomfortable with this playacting. “Have you picked something?”

“I’m not sure,” said Steve. “ A pistol would be good, but clumsy to load. And these flintlocks only shoot once before you reload.”

“Of course,” said Henri, puzzled. “Have you ever heard of any devil gun that could shoot more than once at a time? But it reaches out to your enemy before you enter the range of his blade.”

“The chance of accident is greater, too,” said Hunter. “Please choose an edged weapon.”

“Okay.” Steve shrugged and picked up a rapier. “I’ll try this one. How about scabbards and belts?”

“Sorry, my friends,” said Henri. “I have collected these fine weapons wherever I could, but mostly they came from unfortunates who fell in courageous battle. Belts and scabbards were not close to hand.”

“Whatever.” Steve shrugged.

“Bargain with him,” Rita whispered to Hunter. Hunter tried, but without knowing the going price of swords and daggers, he was at a disadvantage. Rita helped, arguing vigorously and three times walking away from the booth in feigned disgust. Finally, at her instruction, Hunter bought all the weapons for less than a handful of coins.

The team walked away, satisfied.

“An interesting cultural phenomenon,” said Hunter. “My stored information tells me that parts of the world still routinely bargain even in our time. I had never experienced it before. It is more psychology than economics.”

“That’s right,” said Rita. “But now we all need belts or sashes to wear, to hold up our weapons.”

“Rita,” said Jane, pointing. “Look at the that booth, over there. Those are sashes and scarves.”

“Perfect,” said Rita. “Come on, Hunter.”

This time, Hunter bargained alone and successfully purchased four long cotton sashes, two of faded blue and two that were more or less black. Each member of the team took one. At Rita’s direction, they tied them around their waists and stuck their weapons through them at the hip.

“Good enough,” said Rita, looking around with an excited expression. “This is really special for me. I can hardly believe I’m doing this. I’ve spent my entire adult life studying this time and this region. And now I’m actually here.”

“We are glad to have you with us,” said Hunter. He looked at Rita and Jane. “What do you suggest now? How can we maximize our chances of finding MC 2?”

“Well…” Jane hesitated. “We’re back to what I Said earlier, I guess, about looking around the waterfront. After all, he may not have returned to full size yet, in which case we won’t find him now anyway.”

“I agree that we should circulate,” said Rita. “Maybe we can meet a few people and tell them to watch for someone of his description.”

“Ah, yes,” said Hunter. “In other words, create a network of people who can help us search.”

“That’s right,” said Rita. “But before we ask them for any help, we have to establish a rapport with them. Buccaneers survive partly by being suspicious of strangers. Offering a reward wouldn’t hurt.”

“We do not want to reveal unnecessarily that we are carrying much money,” said Hunter.

“Let’s talk to some people,” said Jane. “Then we can decide how to handle them.”

“I see taverns all up and down the docks,” said Steve. “How are we going to pick one to start?”

Rita thought for a moment, gazing up the street. “We have to be careful. Buccaneer women aren’t well thought of. Let’s start in one of the open-air taverns. The clientele is more varied and we can get away more easily if we have to leave.”

“I hope I don’t regret this,” said Jane.

“Hunter, you should go first. Lead us into that sidewalk tavern there.” Rita pointed. “Some other women are there, and they seem safe so far.”

“All right.”

Hunter walked in front, with the other three close behind. He was aware that many of the rough, dirty men looked up at him in some surprise. Hunter was, of course, unusually tall and powerful, and he knew he had attracted some attention on their earlier walk through town. He decided that the buccaneers routinely appraised the fighting ability of those around them, either as potential opponents in a brawl or as comrades on board ship.

In front of Hunter, a short, brawny buccaneer stomped forward to a bar made of three rough planks resting on a couple of barrels. Behind the makeshift bar, an overweight man in a shirt with full, baggy sleeves was dipping tankards into an open keg and setting them on the bar. Hunter watched carefully.

“Gimme four o’ those,” said the man in front, tossing down a small coin.

Hunter quickly sorted through his pouch for a coin of the same size. When his turn came, he tossed it down on the bar. “I would like four drinks, also, please.”

The barkeep glanced at him in surprise, perhaps at his phrasing, but said nothing. The man set four full tankards on the bar and scooped the coin into a pouch of his own. Hunter turned and handed out the tankards to his companions.

“Let’s move out of the way of the bar,” said Rita. She edged through the crowd and the others followed her.

Hunter took a sip of his drink. He found the flavor too strong to be pleasant. As his system quickly analyzed its contents, he realized that the substance was called rum. In small amounts, it was not necessarily dangerous to humans, but its effects could be if the amount accumulated.

Steve took a mouthful and grimaced before swallowing. “Wow. No wonder these guys are mean.”

“Please be careful with the amount of alcohol you consume,” said Hunter. “Remember, I am concerned with your health, under the First Law.”

Rita and Jane both took more cautious tastes. “Our modern rum is more refined,” Rita said quietly. “This is rather harsh, isn’t it?”

Jane made a face. “I think I’ll just hold mine, to look the part.”

“Aye, drink up,” said a stranger, hoisting his tankard to Hunter. “It flows freely in Port Royal tonight, but you never know when the river will stop.” He was tall man, only a little shorter than Hunter, with bushy red hair.

“Good evening,” said Hunter. “My name is Hunter. These are Steve, Rita, and Jane.”

“Greetings to all. I am Leitch. Haven’t seen you before, Hunter; you’re too big to forget. Sail in recently, did you?”

“We arrived today,” said Hunter. He glanced at Rita for help, concerned that he might say something that would reveal their status as ignorant strangers.

“I don’t recall any ships putting in today,” said another man, staggering against Leitch. He was a shorter, stocky man with a French accent.

Leitch elbowed him hard and shoved him upright again. “You sleep all day again, Cresson?”

Rita took Hunter’s arm casually and leaned against him. He realized that this was part of her playacting, but he was not sure what to do in response. Deciding to be cautious, he did nothing.

“Hunter,” said Rita. “I’ll bet these guys know a lot of people. Maybe we should tell them what your friend looks like. I know you want to be careful, but we could ask them.”

“How’s that?” Leitch looked at her over his tankard as he took another swig.

“I am searching for a friend,” said Hunter. “A small, slender man, probably in clothes that, uh-” He stopped uncertainly, looking at Rita.

“He probably scavenged them someplace,” said Rita. “He never has any money.”

“Sounds like most of my friends,” said Leitch, grinning at Cresson.

“He learns fast,” said Steve. “But he hasn’t spent much time in this part of the world.”

“Ah! Doesn’t know the ropes, eh?” Cresson nodded. “Can’t say I’ve seen anyone of that sort around lately, but if he’s on the docks, we’ll see him sooner or later.”

Leitch eyed Steve carefully. “Spanish, are you? With a touch of Moorish blood? Your English is very good.”

“Thank you,” said Steve, with a shrug.

Hunter saw that Jane was quietly shifting behind Steve. Cresson was studying her with a great deal of interest. Steve glanced at Hunter.

Suddenly angry shouts could be heard off to ‘one side, toward the docks. Hunter turned and was able to see over the heads of most of the crowd. Two buccaneers had squared off, one holding a curved dagger much like Rita’s and the other grasping a belaying pin.

Hunter’s first reflex was to shove forward through the crowd and stop them. He resisted it, with effort, reminding himself that the larger First Law issue in the future took precedence over the welfare of these two buccaneers. Still, he stared at them with a kind of horror.

“Steady, Hunter,” said Jane softly. “If you’re having trouble, review your internal data about chaos theory. Reinforce your understanding that the First Law can be served by letting these guys fight.”

“Thank you,” Hunter said quietly. He followed her instructions instantaneously. It helped him keep his priorities clear, though his positronic brain still wanted to break up the fight.

“Haw! Look at that!” Leitch punched Cresson on the arm. “I’ll wager the next round of drinks that Carlos takes him.”

“With a belaying pin? You’re on,” said Cresson. “Come on, let’s move closer.”

They both pushed forward to see better.

Hunter realized that nearly everyone in the crowd was laughing, yelling encouragement or insults, and wagering on the outcome of the fight. None of them seemed to take it seriously, though both combatants held potentially lethal weapons. Their casual attitude toward such violence matched his historical data, but it made him very uncomfortable.

“All right, Hunter?” Jane asked, taking his arm. “You aren’t freezing up, are you?”

“No, Jane,” said Hunter. “I have to remain active in order to protect the three of you if the violence spreads. I think we should leave, though, and look elsewhere for MC 2.”

“Good idea.”

“Okay,” Steve said reluctantly. He obviously wanted to watch the fight.

“Let’s go out this way,” said Rita. She led the team away from the crowd to one side, well away from the developing fight. Other eager observers moved up to take their places.

The team followed Rita up the waterfront. Hunter felt a slight sense of relief, but he realized that these First Law situations were going to continue as long as he was in the past among humans. In this respect, going back to the dinosaur age had been easier, since the only humans there had all come from the future.

Jane stopped suddenly, grabbing Hunter’s arm. “There’s another fight.”

Hunter looked. Ahead, two large men were shouting at each other in the light from a tavern doorway. A short, slender man was trying to interfere.