The Shield of Time by Poul Anderson Page A

trills and purrs scrubbed from his brain. Not only was the tongue euphonious, it was precise and concise, so much so that a sentence might require an English paragraph to translate it, as if the speakers actually were telling each other what they both knew quite well.
    However, he couldn’t retain everything he learned in the course of his job. Memory capacity is finite, and there would be other hunts to come. There always were.
    “At any moment,” Raor said easily. “You are too impatient, Draganizu.”
    “We have spent years of lifespan already—”
    “Not much more than one.”
    “For you and Sauvo. For me, five, establishing this identity.”
    “Spend a few more days to protect the investment.”Raor smiled, and Everard’s heart missed a beat. “Fuming ill becomes a priest of Poseidon.”
    Oh-ho! Then that’s his alias. Theonis’ “kinsman.”
Everard laid hold on the fact, gripped hard, stopped his slide down into infatuation.
    “And Buleni even longer, often in hardship and danger,” Draganizu continued.
    “The merrier for him,” Raor jested.
    “If Sauvo, then, can’t be troubled to time his arrivals—”
    Raor lifted a hand that Botticelli could have painted. Her dark-tressed head cocked. “Ah, I think that is he.”
    Another male Exaltationist entered. His beauty was harsher than Draganizu’s. He wore an ordinary tunic and sandals. Raor leaned a little forward, mercurially intent. “Did you lock the door behind you?” she demanded. “I didn’t hear.”
    “Of course,” Sauvo answered. “I’ve never forgotten, have I?” Discomfort crossed Draganizu’s visage. Maybe he had been absentminded in that respect. Once. Raor would have seen to it that he never was afterward. “Especially when the Patrol is on the prowl,” Sauvo added.
    So,
Everard thought,
their garage for timecycles is in a Bluebeard room on this floor
…
toward the rear, since that’s where Sauvo came from.
…
    Draganizu half rose, sat back down, and asked anxiously, “It is, then? You have established it is active here-now?”
    Sauvo took another stool; in the ancient world, chairs with backs were rare, mostly for royalty. He helped himself to wine and a fig. “Not to fear, camarado. Whatever clues they came upon, they’ve misread. They think the trouble spot is elsewhere, years uptime. They sent a man to inquire here-now merely in the interests of thoroughness.”
    He related the story that Everard had told in the vihara.
He got to Chandrakumar in prison and used a kyradex on him,
the Patrolman realized.
No secrets any
more. But most of what Sauvo learned ain’t so. Thanks, Shalten.
    “Another change-scheme!” Draganizu exclaimed.
    “Ours will nullify it and its operators,” Raor murmured. “But first, yes, it would be interesting to learn more about them. Perhaps even to contact them—” Her words stole off into silence, like a snake after prey.
    “First,” Draganizu said sharply, “we have the fact that this … Holbrook … broke free and is running loose.”
    Raor recalled herself to immediacy. “At ease, at ease. We have his weapons and communication equipment.”
    “When he doesn’t report in—”
    “I doubt the Patrol expects to hear from him at once. Set him aside for the present, together with those conspirators. We have more urgent matters at hand.”
    Draganizu turned to Sauvo and asked, “How did you obtain privacy for interrogation?”
    “You haven’t heard?” His fellow was faintly surprised.
    “I only got here a few minutes ago. I have been busy with affairs of my Nicomachus persona. Raor’s note said nothing but ‘Come.’”
    Hand-delivered by a slave,
Everard deduced.
No radio. Maybe she feels confident still, but the “Holbrook” business has made her ultra-cautious.
    Silken shoulders rose and fell. “I had persuaded Zoilus to arrange solitary detention for any prisoners taken in this matter,” Raor said. “I told him that my connections led me to believe they are