John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

The Paratime Secret: the one inviolate Home Time-Line secret that had to be protected at any cost. Not only to preserve First Level society in all the luxury it had become accustomed to, but also because it wasn't right to let the poor outtime devils know that they were secretly being taken to the cleaners, as his friend Kalvan might have put it, by a secret race of parasites. But sometimes the parasites got careless and mistakes got made and then it was up to the Paracops to clean it up. This looked like it was going to be another one of those times. Sure, a few careers might be uprooted at Consolidated Outtime Foodstuffs, but the real losers would be the families of the proles who'd died defending a place they neither built nor profited from.

Verkan shook his head. He'd have to think of a more appropriate punishment for these First Level incompetents; maybe a posting to that new Second Level Ashthor Rammis subsector, where the locals shaved off all body hair, practiced ritual self-flagellation, were strict vegetarians and believed the highest state of being was to forgo all pleasure. That might be just the place for these miscreants to cool their heels for a century or so.

"Good analysis, Kirv," Verkan said. "I've got something pleasant in mind for those in charge, for a change."

"I don't like that look, Chief."

"How does a penal sentence to the Ashthor Rammis Subsector strike your

"Just rewards, comes to mind." Kirv said, with a laugh. "But let me change the subject, for a moment. I have news you need to hear: Dalgroth Sorn is getting ready to announce his retirement at Year-End!"

Verkan bolted upright in his chair. "Dalgroth!" The Paratime Commissioner for Security was one of Verkan's and the Paratime Police's staunchest allies. Dalgroth Sorn, was said to be older than time, but Verkan-pre-occupied with events on Kalvan's Time-Line had not considered his retirement, certainly not so soon after former Paratime Chief, Tortha Karf's. It appeared that all the men he'd looked upon as mentors and old friends would be gone from active service by the end of the year. That left Verkan not only feeling alone, but also isolated and with more weight upon his shoulders than any man should have to bear.

Kirv added, "It wasn't unexpected. He is half a century older than Tortha, and they are good friends."

"I know," Verkan said. "I should have anticipated this and had a candidate all ready to step forward."

Skordran Kirv winced. "The Opposition Party has put forward Councilman Aldron Ralth as their candidate."

"So fast!" Verkan shook his head in exasperation. Ralth was the Opposition leader who had replaced Salgath Trod-who was assassinated during the Wizard Trader blow-up. "He's a good figurehead and helped rebuild Opposition after the Wizard debacle, but he's probably the worst person-other than Hadron Tharn-to head the Paratime Security Commission."

"Ralth's sycophants in the Executive Council are saying that it's time the Commissioner was his own man, rather than the Chief's pet stooge! Ralth's been getting a lot of media attention. Everyone knows that Dalgroth is a big Paratime Police booster."

"Sure, he's a former Police Inspector. But he doesn't take my orders. He has always had a very clear agenda: protect the Paratime Secret and keep the Force strong and independent of the Executive Council. I've gotten more than one bawling out from Dalgroth, when he didn't agree with my policies or actions."

"You'll never convince the media or Executive Council of that."

Verkan shook his head wearily. For not the first time, nor for the last time, he wondered how Tortha Karf had run the Force for over two hundred and fifty years. "Who do we know that has the right background to serve as Paratime Commissioner?"

Skordran Kirv looked nervous. "We do have one exemplary candidate, Chief."

"And who might that be?"

"Tortha Karf. He's got the best background, great contacts and would back us to the hilt."

Verkan stood up. "Tortha's not about to give up his retirement, besides his nomination-after what Ralth has been saying-would stink all the way to Mars. Is there anyway we can talk Dalgroth into staying in office for a few more years?"

Kirv shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you could have a talk with him, Chief. I don't know anyone else, other than our ex-Chief, whom he'd listen to."

"Fine," Verkan said, in resignation. He knew when he was beat. "Set up an appointment for later this afternoon. I'll have to worry about Nilo-Mesopotamia tomorrow." I'd better be able to convince Dalgroth not to retire, he thought. Otherwise, this job of policing millions upon millions of time-lines is going to turn into a dead certain impossibility! If Aldron Ralth becomes Paratime Commissioner, it'll be time for me to retire-right to Kalvan's Time-Line.

Warchief Sargos led his men stealthily through the saplings that grew along the banks of the Green River. This time the Ruthani sentries had not been asleep and there had been six guards where before there had been but two, when Althea made good her escape. Still, the sentries had not been prepared for a dozen young warriors stealing up the banks from right out of the river. The warriors had killed the guards, leaving only one dead and three wounded, only one bad enough that he might not see dawn.

Althea, her bow in hand, moved like a shadow and he was glad she was at his side. Halgoth was following right behind and Sargos smiled in anticipation of tonight's battle. His warriors had spent the day smoking tobacco and bragging over their prowess; well, tonight they would get a chance to perform deeds that were real, not words. He heard one of the warriors brag about what he would do to the first enemy woman he discovered.

Sargos could see Althea's body stiffen in anger. He put his rough hand over the youth's mouth and whispered loudly, "All Grassmen are to be sent to Wind. All women and children belong to the Clan. Treat them as kinsmen.

Subchief Ikkos spoke up. "It is our right-"

Sargos raised his knife. "This is not a raid, but a blood-debt. Even the Grasswomen and children belong to the Clan. If anyone disagrees, they can argue with my blade."

Not another word was said.

The saplings were beginning to thin and Sargos could hear the distant cry of keening women, mostly captives, but some cries were coming from the throats of the victors' women as well, since they too had dead to mourn. The presence of so many women only proved the wisdom of this attack. If they left the Grassmen in peace, they would either attack the Tymannes next, or wait until more of their kinsmen had crossed the Great River. Either way would bring death or migration to the Tymannes.

Warchief Sargos brought his warriors to the edge of the copse. They could see that most of the campfires had burned down. This is good, thought Sargos, they feel safe. He counted less than forty sentries, most of them grouped around a hastily built corral that was easily twice the size of the Grassmen's encampment. Already, some of the warriors were spreading around the edge of the wooded thicket.

Sargos called Ikkos over and gave his orders. "Capture the corrals first. Then kill any Grassmen who escape and try to take their mounts. Keep the horses inside the corral, if you can. Take these men with you." It was a group of handpicked warriors Sargos knew would fight to the death.

Subchief Ikkos nodded. "We will win, or die, Warchief." He, too, was aware of how much wealth this many horses represented. There appeared to be many hundreds of horses.

Sargos next placed his prized horsepistol, after checking the load, into Ikkos' hands. The horsepistol had belonged to some long-departed nobleman and was chased with gold and silver. It was used infrequently, since fireseed was as expensive as gold dust in the Sastragath. While it's sale outside of the Five Kingdom's was under Styphon's Ban, pouches could be bought for the right price.