John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

The commotion brought Tortha Karf to the doorway. "Verkan! From your message ball, I didn't expect you for several hours."

"We managed to home-in on the missing Paracop's beacon and were able to extricate him from the Fourth Level mess he'd fallen into. His mission was locating and then extracting French Impressionist paintings from a gautlatiers mansion on a particularly nasty Fourth Level, Europo-American time-line. Unfortunately, someone had already removed the paintings and he was picked up by the Gestapo, a rather brutal quasi-police force."

"Must have been in the Axis Subsector."

Verkan nodded.

"I remember that Subsector well," Tortha continued, "it's impact reverberated across the entire Fourth Level. Adolph Hitler's public works and culling of the regional populations on that subsector makes your Pennsylvania State Trooper's transtemporal interference look like a tempest in a teapot-to use a Europo-American Sector cliche! Remember when the Opposition Party claimed that Hitler was really a renegade Paratime Policeman?"

Verkan refused to be baited.

Tortha noticing his discomfort, added, "Come on in. I've been by myself too long. I've forgotten all my manners."

Verkan gave a pointed look at the girls who were watching them closely.

Tortha shrugged his shoulders in feigned ignorance and led Verkan through the foyer and into the main room, where the rich gold-veined white marble walls displayed Cretan murals. The floor was covered with Fourth Level, Etruscan-Zoroastrian rugs and contained several embroidered purple divans, decked with gold fringe, which appeared to be Alexandrian-Roman in origin.

"So this your 'little cottage?'" Verkan asked.

"Compared to Paratime Headquarters, this place is tiny. And much quieter. So what brings you to paradise?"

To Verkan his ex-Chief looked a little twitchy. Too much of a good thing? Maybe paradise was better dreamed about than lived. He was sure Kalvan, in the midst of a war with three great kingdoms, might very well agree. "The Wizard Traders have popped up again."

"Wizard Traders. You mean slave traders, Verkan. We busted that outfit up just before I retired as Chief."

"You weren't so sure a year ago. True, we arrested the obvious ones; those who were passing themselves off as wizards on backward Third and Fourth Level worlds, using their privileges to steal forbidden artifacts and buy and sell people to unscrupulous Home Timeliners. Plus, a couple of First Level dupes, who were manning their secret conveyer heads. Now, we've uncovered evidence that they may be connected to the Opposition Party. Remember how you always told me 'follow the money trail.' I've been following your advice and we've found some evidence that much of it went into the Opposition Party coffers."

"But that doesn't make sense, Verkan. The Oppositionists run on a policy of non-interference and prole equal representation. You're trying to tell me that blood money has been paying for prole equality votes?"

"I think you've been on this big island for too long. Yes, I do. Don't you remember: the end justifies the means. The lesser evil for the greater good!"

"Maybe I have been outtime too long. Could this be the break we've been looking for, Verkan? Get word of this out to our friends in the media and we can break their backs once and for all."

"Break is not the right word. The Opposition Party has been gaining adherents and I'm afraid they may well find a way to point the blame right back at the Department."

"How? We've never been linked to the Oppositionists-just the opposite."

"True, but it did happen on our watch. Didn't it?"

"Don't look at me like that, old son. It's not my watch anymore. I've got some grapes to harvest."

"What should I do about it?"

"What you have to do, according to your commission. You're the top Paracop. Find out who they are, who's supporting them; then root them out. Who's your goat?"

"Hadron Tharn."

"That fatuous prig," Tortha said. "Your brother-in-law's not smart enough to be behind stale bread much less the Wizard Traders."

"He's not behind them, but we've linked one of the Wizard Traders to his University action team."

"You mean that University of Dhergabar crowd that's been crying about Paratime Police barriers to First Level outtime studies?"

"Same group, Tortha. I'd like to hijack the whole lot and dump them on a time-line where the locals have had a brush with the Wizard Traders. The survivors would come back a lot wiser."

"It's too bad they used hypno-conditioning to commit suicide."

"We never got all the trigger words, Verkan said, lighting his pipe. "Everyone of the important Wizard Traders committed suicide, when one of the implanted suggestions froze the Vagas Nerve-instant heart attack." Verkan shook his head. "No two of them shared the same trigger words either; it left the experts at Bureau of Psychological Hygiene in a state of paralysis. The rest of the Wizard Traders were just proles doing a job. I'm still getting bad press over the casualties."

"Not your fault, Verkan," Tortha said, shaking his head. "It does lend credence to the big conspiracy theory, though. That kind of deep conditioning doesn't come cheap. Anything more?"

"Yes, we've traced a new batch of Wizard Traders to Aryan-Transpacific."

Tortha's mouth dropped open. "Already!"

"Yes, they've gotten into bed with Styphon's House on every time-line they've entered. Trading the upper priests weapons technology in exchange for young bodies and precious metals."

"Have they penetrated the Kalvan Time-Line?"

"No. Although, we do have a potential spy on one of the University study teams."

"Why don't you bring him in for questioning?"

"It's a she. And we don't have any evidence other than a family relationship with Hadron Tharn. We do have an agent on the Kalvan Study Team keeping an eye on her. Besides, Tharn is too flighty to set up and run any decent spy ring. We suspect she's a red herring, as it's called on Fourth Level, Europo-American. Just as Tharn himself is a cat's-paw to lead us astray."

"From what?"

"A potentially embarrassing incident or some other criminal enterprise."

"Good hunting," Tortha said, shaking his head. "Every time I start to think back fondly of my time Chief, you come along and remind me of why I retired."

"Tortha!" one of the girls called. "It's time for our swimming lessons. Will you be joining us?"

"Yes, of course. Must not neglect my guests. Please, excuse me Verkan, but I've got my duties here to contend with. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

Verkan nodded, as Tortha waddled off with a girl tucked under each arm. He wondered whom the show was for, him or Tortha? It must be tough, Verkan thought, trying to have a good time twenty-four hours a day. I'll have to try it sometime!

Warchief Ranjar Sargos watched in red anger as Vanar Halgoth's niece, Althea was helped into the tribal longhouse. One of Althea's eyes was blackened, her face was covered with scratches and welts, her long blond hair was crusted with blood and her arm was bound in a fresh splint. Yet, despite all the obvious damage and the pain she was in, Althea stood proudly and defiantly as she approached the tribal Table of Judges. Sargos also noticed the admiration shining in his eldest son, Bargoth's eyes, as he sat at his side and watched the maiden-well, former maiden, approaching the Table. She was a comely woman with long legs and wide hips, good for both bundling and bearing many children.

Althea was the last of the Burgdun stragglers who had come into the Raven Tribe's winter camp. The Raven Tribe, who now numbered over two hundred fighting men, was the largest and most successful tribe of the Tymannes Clan. The Burgduns were people of another, but smaller related clan, whose winter camp rested west of their own. Two days ago the Burgduns had been attacked by a large band of Ruthani from across the Great River. According to the survivors, all the Burgdun males over the age of eight had been killed and the women taken captive.