Time Crime
"That's an idea," Vall agreed. "About the first idea we've had,
here--Oh, how about politics, too? Check on who's the king, what the
stories about the royal family are, that sort of thing."
Ranthar Jard looked at the map on the wall. "The Croutha have only
gotten halfway to Nharkan, here. Say we transpose detectives in at
night on some of these time lines we think are promising, and check
up at the tax-collection offices on a big landowner north of Jhirda
named Ghromdour? That might get us something."
"Well, I don't want you to think we're trying to get out of work,
Chief's Assistant," one of the deputies said, "but is there any real
necessity for our trying to locate the Wizard Trader time lines? If
you can get them from the Esaron Sector, it'll be the same, won't it?"
"Marv, in this business you never depend on just one lead," Ranthar
Jard told him. "And beside, when Skordran Kirv's gang hits the base of
operations in North America, there's no guarantee that they may not
have time to send off a radio warning to the crowd at the base here in
India. We have to hit both places at once."
"Well, that, too," Vall said. "But the main thing is to get these
Wizard Trader camps on the Kholghoor Sector cleaned out. How are you
fixed for men and equipment, for a big raid, Jard?"
Ranthar Jard shrugged. "I can get about five hundred men with
conveyers, including a couple of two-hundred-footers to carry
airboats," he said.
"Not enough. Skordran Kirv has one complete armored brigade, one
airborne infantry brigade, and an air cavalry regiment, with
Ghaldron-Hesthor equipment for a simultaneous transposition," Vall
said.
"Where in blazes did he get them all?" Ranthar Jard demanded.
"They're guard troops, from Service Sector and Industrial Sector.
We'll get you the same sort of a force. I only hope we don't have
another Prole insurrection while they're away--"
"Well, don't think I'm trying to argue policy with you," Ranthar Jard
said, "but that could raise a dreadful stink on Home Time Line.
Especially on top of this news-break about the slave trade."
"We'll have to take a chance on that," Vall said. "If you're worried
about what the book says, forget it. We're throwing the book away, on
this operation. Do you realize that this thing is a threat to the
whole Paratime Civilization?"
"Of course I do," Ranthar Jard said. "I know the doctrine of Paratime
Security as well as you or anybody else. The question is, does the
public realize it?"
A buzzer sounded. Ranthar Jard pressed a switch on the intercom-box in
front of him and said: "Ranthar here. Well?"
"Visiphone call, top urgency, just came in for Chief's Assistant
Verkan, from Novilan Equivalent. Where can I put it through, sir?"
"Here; booth seven." Ranthar Jard pointed across the room, nodding to
Vall. "In just a moment."
* * * * *
Gathon Dard and Antrath Alv--temporary local aliases, Ganadara and
Atarazola--sat relaxed in their saddles, swaying to the motion of
their horses. They wore the rust-brown hooded cloaks of the northern
Jeseru people, in sober contrast to the red and yellow and blue
striped robes and sun-bonnets of the Caleras in whose company they
rode. They carried short repeating carbines in saddle scabbards, and
heavy revolvers and long knives on their belts, and each led six
heavily-laden pack-horses.
Coru-hin-Irigod, riding beside Ganadara, pointed up the trail ahead.
"From up there," he said, speaking in Acalan, the lingua franca of the
North American West Coast on that sector, "we can see across the
valley to Careba. It will be an hour, as we ride, with the
pack-horses. Then we will rest, and drink wine, and feast."
Ganadara nodded. "It was the guidance of our gods--and yours,
Coru-hin-Irigod--that we met. Such slaves as you sold at the
outlanders' plantation would bring a fine price in the North. The men
are strong, and have the look of good field-workers; the women are
comely and well-formed. Though I fear that my wife would little relish
it did I bring home such handmaidens."
Coru-hin-Irigod laughed. "For your wife, I will give you one of our
riding whips." He leaned to the side, slashing at a cactus with his
quirt. "We in Careba have no trouble with our wives, about handmaidens
or anything else."
"By Safar, if you doubt your welcome at Careba, wait till you show
your wares," another Calera said. "Rifles and revolvers like those
come to our country seldom, and then old and battered, sold or stolen
many times before we see them. Rifles that fire seven times without
taking butt from shoulder!" He invoked the name of the Great Lord
Safar again.
The trail widened and leveled; they all came up abreast, with the
pack-horses strung out behind, and sat looking across the valley to
the adobe walls of the town that perched on the opposite ridge. After
a while, riders began dismounting and checking and tightening
saddle-girths; a couple of Caleras helped Ganadara and Atarazola
inspect their pack-horses. When they remounted, Atarazola bowed his
head, lifting his left sleeve to cover his mouth, and muttered into it
at some length. The Caleras looked at him curiously, and
Coru-hin-Irigod inquired of Ganadara what he did.
"He prays," Ganadara said. "He thanks our gods that we have lived to
see your town, and asks that we be spared to bring many more trains of
rifles and ammunition up this trail."
The slaver nodded understandingly. The Caleras were a pious people,
too, who believed in keeping on friendly terms with the gods.
"May Safar's hand work with the hands of your gods for it," he said,
making what, to a non-Calera, would have been an extremely ribald
sign.
"The gods watch over us," Atarazola said, lifting his head. "They are
near us even now; they have spoken words of comfort in my ear."'
Ganadara nodded. The gods to whom his partner prayed were a couple of
paratime policemen, crouching over a radio a mile or so down the
ridge.
"My brother," he told Coru-hin-Irigod, "is much favored by our gods.
Many people come to him to pray for them."
"Yes. So you told me, now that I think on it." That detail had been
included in the pseudo-memories he had been given under hypnosis. "I
serve Safar, as do all Caleras, but I have heard that the Jeserus'
gods are good gods, dealing honestly with their servants."
* * * * *
An hour later, under the walls of the town, Coru-hin-Irigod drew one
of his pistols and fired all four barrels in rapid succession into the
air, shouting, "Open! Open for Coru-hin-Irigod, and for the Jeseru
traders, Ganadara and Atarazola, who are with him!"
A head, black-bearded and sun-bonneted, appeared between the brick
merlons of the wall above the gate, shouted down a welcome, and then
turned away to bawl orders. The gate slid aside, and, after the
caravan had passed through, naked slaves pushed the massive thing shut
again. Although they were familiar with the interior of the town, from
photographs taken with boomerang-balls--automatic-return transposition
spheres like message-balls--they looked around curiously. The central
square was thronged--Caleras in striped robes, people from the south
and east in baggy trousers and embroidered shirts, mountaineers in
deerskins. A slave market was in progress, and some hundred-odd items
of human merchandise were assembled in little groups, guarded by their
owners and inspected by prospective buyers. They seemed to be all
natives of that geographic and paratemporal area.
"Don't even look at those," Coru-hin-Irigod advised. "They are but
culls; the market is almost over. We'll go to the house of
Nebu-hin-Abenoz, where all the considerable men gather, and you will
find those who will be able to trade slaves worthy of the goods you
have with you. Meanwhile, let my people take your horses and packs to
my house; you shall be my guests while you stay in Careba."
It was perfectly safe to trust Coru-hin-Irigod. He was a murderer and
a brigand and a slaver, but he would never incur the scorn of men and
the curse of the gods by dealing foully with a guest. The horses and
packs were led away by his retainers; Ganadara and Atarazola pushed
their horses after his and Faru-hin-Obaran's through the crowd.
The house of Nebu-hin-Abenoz, like every other building in Careba, was
flat-roofed, adobe-walled and window-less except for narrow
rifle-slits. The wide double-gate stood open, and five or six heavily
armed Caleras lounged just inside. They greeted Coru and Faru by name,
and the strangers by their assumed nationality. The four rode through,
into what appeared to be the stables, turning their horses over to
slaves, who took them away. There were between fifty and sixty other
horses in the place.
Divesting themselves of their weapons in an anteroom at the head of a
flight of steps, they passed under an arch and into a wide, shady
patio, where thirty or forty men stood about or squatted on piles of
cushions, smoking cheroots, drinking from silver cups, talking in a
continuous babel. Most of them were in Calera dress, though there were
men of other communities and nations, in other garb. As they moved
across the patio, Gathon Dard caught snatches of conversations about
deals in slaves, and horse trades, about bandit raids and blood feuds,
about women and horses and weapons.
An old man with a white beard and an unusually clean robe came over to
intercept them.
"Ha, lord of my daughter, you're back at last. We had begun to fear
for you," he said.
"Nothing to fear, father of my wife," Coru-hin-Irigod replied. "We
sold the slaves for a good price, and tarried the night feasting in
good company. Such good company that we brought some of it with
us--Atarazola and Ganadara, men of the Jeseru; Cavu-hin-Avoran, whose
daughter mothered my sons." He took his father-in-law by the sleeve
and pulled him aside, motioning Gathon Dard and Antrath Alv to follow.
"They brought weapons; they want outland slaves, of the sort I took to
sell in the Big Valley country," he whispered. "The weapons are
repeating rifles from across the ocean, and six-shot revolvers. They
also have much ammunition."
"Oh, Safar bless you!" the white-beard cried, his eyes brightening.
"Name your own price; satisfy yourselves that we have dealt fairly
with you; go, and return often again! Come, lord of my daughter; let
us make them known to Nebu-hin-Abenoz. But not a word about the kind
of weapons you have, strangers, until we can speak privately. Say only
that you have rifles to trade."
Gathon Dard nodded. Evidently there was some sort of power-struggle
going on in Careba; Coru-hin-Irigod and his wife's father were of the
party of Nebu-hin-Abenoz, and wanted the repeaters and six-shooters
for themselves.
* * * * *
Nebu-hin-Abenoz, swarthy, hook-nosed, with a square-cut graying beard,
lounged in a low chair across the patio; near him four or five other
Caleras sat or squatted or reclined, all smoking the rank black
tobacco of the country and drinking wine or brandy. Their conversation
ceased as Cavu-hin-Avoran and the others approached. The chief of
Careba listened to the introduction, then heaved himself to his feet
and clapped the newcomers on the shoulders.
"Good, good!" he said. "We know you Jeseru people; you're honest
traders. You come this far into our mountains too seldom. We can trade
with you. We need weapons. As for the sort of slaves you want, we have
none too many now, but in eight days we will have plenty. If you stay
with us that long--"
"Careba is a pleasant place to be," Ganadara said. "We can wait."
"What sort of weapons have you?" the chief asked.
"Pistols and rifles, lord of my father's sister," Coru-hin-Irigod