Warrior

9

In the German village the next morning, Hunter and Gene joined Vicinius around the embers of the bonfire from the night before. They ate more hot pork stew for breakfast, and Vicinius still received congratulations from other villagers for his kill. Hunter looked up from his bowl.

“We must not impose on you further,” Hunter said to Vicinius. “We have found MC 3’s tracks now. I can follow them today. You must have business of your own. And Gene is not used to mountains like these. He can rest in the village today.”

Vicinius shook his head. “I must take advantage of my good fortune. Yesterday, the gods were with me. Maybe today I can find another boar, or maybe a deer. I will hunt again today and accompany you.”

“Perhaps you would do better without us,” said Hunter. “One man can move more quietly than three.”

“Nonsense,” said Vicinius, grinning broadly. “You brought me my luck. We shall go together.”

Hunter could not think of anything else to say. He wanted to pursue MC 3 alone because, as a robot, he could go much faster when he was free to use all his speed and strength. However, he was also reluctant to risk insulting Vicinius by rejecting his company. He merely nodded and finished his breakfast.

“I’ll go with you,” said Gene quietly. “As long as he’s going with you, anyway. Our team has split up into two groups already; that’s plenty.”

“Thank you,” said Hunter. “That is wise.” Vicinius wrapped cooked boar meat in leaves to take with them. As rain began to fall, they drew their cloaks around them and hefted their spears. Vicinius led the way once again through the forest.

Hunter attempted calling Steve and Jane, but received no answer. He assumed that their receivers were turned off because they were in the company of Romans who might overhear them, so he did not worry about them for now. They could call him when they had some privacy.

They spent about an hour walking to the spot where they had left the trail of MC 3 the evening before. Under the lush canopy of trees, the light rain had not yet washed out the tracks. Both Vicinius and Hunter were able to spot broken twigs and leaves where MC 3 had passed, which no amount of rain would alter. Gene did not complain, but Hunter could see by his movements that he was sore as a result of the long hike during the previous day.

They were still tracking MC 3 at midday when Hunter heard the movements of fourteen other men in the forest nearby. At first he said nothing, not wanting to reveal the keenness of his hearing to Vicinius. When he saw Vicinius watching the movement of birds in the trees in the distance over the location of the strangers, Hunter knew that Vicinius was also aware of them.

“We have company, eh?” Hunter said, pointing to some birds suddenly fluttering away from tree branches.

“Yes,” said Vicinius. “Other hunters, perhaps.”

“Could they be Romans?” Gene asked.

Vicinius shook his head. “The Romans always want to march in large numbers when they can. Their small patrols are on horseback and make a lot of noise. Only Germans move through the forest as quietly as these people approaching us.”

“Should we speak with them?” Hunter asked. “Are they from another village?”

“They must be.” Vicinius raised the horn he carried and blew into it, once. Immediately, a similar horn answered him from the other party. He lowered his horn and smiled. “We do not want them mistaking us for deer.”

The strangers appeared soon. They had the same general physical appearance and clothing as the people of Vicinius’s village, being stocky, mostly blond, and dressed in furs. Their leader, a young blond man with a barrel chest and short arms and legs, nodded in greeting without smiling.

“Hail, Vicinius.”

“Hail, Julius.”

“Who are these strangers?” Julius demanded.

“Traders from Gaul. Hunter and Gene.”

Hunter nodded formally. “I give you greeting.”

“Romans.” Julius turned and spat.

“Not Romans,” said Hunter. “We are Gauls.”

“Romans’ dogs, then,” Julius said with a sneer. “Vicinius, what are you doing with them? At a time like this?”

“We are hunting,” Vicinius said simply, with no apology in his tone.

“We have no interest in what the Roman army does,” said Hunter. “We are traders in silver.”

“We are also seeking a lost friend of theirs,” said Vicinius. “A man touched by the gods, lost in the forest.”

Julius tensed, his face hardening as he glanced again at Hunter. The men with him also looked at Hunter and Gene with alarm. “Some sort of demon came to our village last night. Or a man touched by evil spirits.”

“What sort of demon?” Vicinius asked.

“He came at night in the form of a strange man in strange clothes,” said Julius. “We tied him in the village. This morning, right before the eyes of some of the villagers, he vanished.”

“A bad omen,” Vicinius agreed, his voice low with awe. “Has he brought evil to your village? Are people sick or have your animals died?”

“Not yet,” said Julius grimly. “But I expect they will. And the omen may mean even more.” He glared suspiciously at Hunter again.

“What do you mean?” Vicinius asked.

“This is no business for strangers,” said Julius. “But you know what I mean. Are you joining us soon, Vicinius? You and the other men of your village?”

Vicinius hesitated, also looking uncomfortably at Hunter and Gene.

“We are only traders,” said Hunter. “We have no concern for your private business.”

“And Roman business?” Julius demanded, shaking his long blond locks away from his face.

“We care nothing for Roman business.”

Julius studied Hunter’s face for a moment, then turned back to Vicinius. “Arminius has sent out the order already today. I have brought my companions in this direction in search of the demon who escaped our village. But we will not waste too much time on him. Tell your village the time has come.”

“I will,” said Vicinius.

Julius nodded and turned away, leading his men into the forest the way they had come.

“Think it was MC 3?” Gene asked Hunter Quietly.

“No,” said Hunter, changing to English. “To my knowledge, the component robots have no ability to trigger the sphere and journey again through time, which would explain this man’s simply vanishing. It must have been Dr. Wayne Nystrom. He probably returned to the Institute, where Ishihara took custody of him.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good. We won’t have to worry about him any more.”

Vicinius was listening with a puzzled expression. “Julius seems to believe this evil spirit may be the man you seek.”

“Maybe,” said Hunter Quickly. “This man is no demon, however. He will not return.”

“How do you know so much about him?”

“He is an old adversary of ours,” said Hunter. “A man, not a demon.”

“How did he escape that village by simply vanishing?”

“He’s a trickster,” said Gene. Hunter turned in surprise.

“A trickster?” Vicinius asked.

“To amuse people around a campfire. Someone who can make jokes and tie knots that come undone again.”

“This is all?” Vicinius still sounded skeptical.

“He was no demon, Vicinius,” said Hunter. “But Julius seems to think you have more pressing business than hunting today. Do you wish to return to your village?”

“No,” said Vicinius slowly. “Julius met me by chance. They will have sent any message that must reach my village by another messenger already. I will not let Julius ruin our hunt.”

“Even concerning Roman business?” Hunter asked, keeping his tone casual.

“Prince Arminius will tend to that,” said Vicinius. Then he glanced around again for the trail of MC 3.

Wayne dozed fitfully until he heard the sound of the door opening. Nervously, he jerked awake and found Ishihara returning with a very large, bulging backpack on his back and two sealed containers in his hands. Wayne pushed himself up on the couch and took a couple of deep breaths.

“I have what you wish,” said Ishihara, setting the containers down on the couch next to him. “This is your meal. But I have been thinking about the extent of my cooperation with you and the fact that Hunter’s instructions and yours are in contradiction.” He slipped off the backpack and carefully placed it on the floor by the couch.

“Yeah? What of it?” Wayne picked up one of the containers and started to open it.

“I am no longer accepting Hunter’s argument without question, but I cannot accept yours fully, either.”

Wayne tensed, watching him carefully. “Then where do you stand?”

“I shall offer a compromise.”

“All right, what is it?”

“You will take me with you.”

“What?” Wayne was shocked. This was one possibility he had not considered.

“You have raised reasonable doubts about Hunter’s arguments concerning you, but I am not entirely convinced that your judgment is sound. In return for my aiding your journey, you will take me with you into the past so that I can see the situation for myself.”

Wayne tried to think of an objection, but none came to him. Maybe he was just too tired. Then again, maybe no reasonable objection existed.

“All right,” Wayne said slowly. “With a couple of concessions on your part. I instruct you to cooperate with me and not to contact Hunter for any reason unless I specifically order you to. As I understand it, your concern is about the First Law challenge of changing history, either by Hunter or me.”

“Or MC 3.”

“Yeah. Him, too. But if Hunter’s instructions carry no First Law weight with you, then the Second Law requires that you obey me, instead. Tell me if you accept this.”

“At present, yes.”

“What will change it?”

“If, upon observation in the past, I come to believe you are making changes in the course of history, then the First Law will override your instructions, of course.”

“Of course.” Wayne sighed. “All right. I need more sleep before we go. I’ll set up the hypnosis courses in Latin and ancient German to run while I take a real nap. While I’m doing that, you access the same language information and arrange clothes for yourself-what did you bring me, anyway?”

“Long woolen tunics and cloaks of the same sort Hunter used. Also leather boots and leggings. The lapel pin communicator I mentioned.”

“Good. Come to think of it, Ishihara…”

“Yes?”

“While you’re accessing data, pick up a number of other major languages-all you can manage efficiently in your memory. We may want some others in the future.”

“Agreed.”

“And leave that sphere and the console shut off while I’m sleeping.” He turned his attention to the food containers again. “What did you bring me? I’m starved.”

By midday, Marcus had reached the bank of the river with his guest and her slave. He had explained to her that a man wandering lost in the forest would seek water. Jane had agreed and so they had ridden to the river. Damp from the light but steady downpour from the gray skies, they had huddled under some trees for a cold noonday meal before riding on.

While they moved down the river, the Roman legions were marching deeper into the forest on the governor’s business. Marcus knew their route and roughly how far the legions would go in one day through the rugged mountains. Late in the day, he planned to locate their camp in order to rejoin them.

Marcus led Jane and her slave downstream, keeping a close lookout for footprints near the water. He also kept sneaking glances at Jane, whom he found extremely attractive, though the hood of her cloak hid her face unless she turned to look directly at him. If he could find her lost friend, she might be grateful; at the very least, it would make a good impression on her. He had never known a woman from Gaul, however, and conversation with her was difficult. She was polite, but reluctant to answer questions about her life in Gaul.

In the middle of the afternoon, Marcus reined in by the bank. “I have a number of footprints here,” he said, pointing to the ground. “One set is quite large. Another is very small and barefoot, and two more are of average size. One is wearing the leather boots of a German warrior.” The edges of the tracks had been blunted and blurred by the rain, but the outlines were still complete.

Jane rode up to look. Then she looked back over her shoulder at her slave. “What do you think?”

Her slave rode up to join them and examined the footprints. Then he pointed to the trail the tracks made back into the forest. “I think the small ones are MC 3, all right.”

“So some people are with him,” said Marcus. “At least one German is among them.”

“Or he’s being followed,” said Jane, looking pointedly at Steve.

Marcus did not understand the meaning of that look.

“Or it’s a coincidence,” said Steve. “Maybe they all just wanted some water.”

“In any case, we have his trail,” said Marcus. “We can follow him from here.”

“Good,” said Jane. “How old do you think the tracks are?”

“No older than yesterday,” said Marcus. “Otherwise the rain would have washed them out completely by now.”

She glanced at her slave again, who nodded agreement.

“The horses need a rest and a drink of water. We’ll rest here before we leave the river.” Marcus dismounted and dropped his reins to the ground. His mount moved to the river and began to drink

“All right.” Jane brought her mount to a jerky halt. “I could use another break.”

“May I?” Marcus moved to her side and held out his arms.

“Yes, thank you.”

As she dismounted, he caught her gently and eased her to the ground, as he done on their earlier stops.

“We have company,” said her slave, remaining on horseback. He nodded toward the forest.

Marcus turned to look. A party of young German warriors was emerging from the trees, led by a young blond man with a barrel chest and short arms and legs, wearing the usual furs of his people. Marcus realized suddenly that he had not been paying adequate attention to the birds in the forest; they would have revealed the presence of people moving toward the river from another direction. Anxiously, he watched the Germans approach.

The strangers were merely walking toward them, neither running nor fanning out to trap them against the river. Still, as a precaution, he offered a leg up to Jane again, who mounted without a word. Then he took the reins of his own horse again and mounted.

“Hail, Roman,” called the leader of the Germans in Latin. He stopped, holding up his free hand, and his companions stopped also.

“Hail, friend,” said Marcus. “I am called Julius in your language. We are of the Cherusci tribe. Who are you?”

“I am Tribune Marcus Gaius Aemilianus.”

“You are a long way from the Roman legions here, Tribune,” said Julius.

“Yes, we are,” said Marcus. “Are you out on a hunt today? How has your luck run so far?”

“We are not hunting so hard today,” said Julius, with a crooked smile. “We have been visiting with friends in other villages. Maybe tomorrow we shall go hunting in earnest. But how about yourself? This is a poor, wet day to go for a ride along the river with a lady.”

“We are searching for a lost stranger,” said Marcus. “A small fellow, touched by the gods.”

Julius frowned. “Apparently this is a good day for such a search.” He raised his hand in farewell. “Good day, Roman.” He turned and led his men back toward the trees.

“Farewell, Julius.” Marcus watched them go, puzzled by their visit.

“What do you think they wanted?” Jane rode up next to him. “They didn’t really say anything.”

“I don’t know for certain,” said Marcus. “However, the Cherusci do not just go out for long walks without a reason. If I had to guess, I would say they are watching to see if I am carrying some sort of message. I think we had better rejoin the legions. I apologize, but it’s important for your own safety.”

“Of course.”

Marcus turned his mount to go back the way they had come. Then he reined up in surprise. Steve was nowhere in sight.