William Wu - Emperor

“Too high,” Steve said firmly to the innkeeper. “Two.” He had no idea what this meant, but it was the best he could do without revealing his ignorance.

“Two-coppers?” The innkeeper folded his arms. “No. Six coppers.”

Now Steve knew where he stood. “Two coppers,” he said confidently.

“Hm, well, maybe five. This is an entire private bungalow, you know.”

“Two.”

The innkeeper hesitated, glancing at all of them. “Four coppers.”

“Two.”

“No. Four.”

Steve turned and walked back toward the door, grinning when he had his back to the innkeeper. “Come on.” Without looking behind him, Steve opened the door and walked back outside. The sound of footsteps told him that the rest of the team was following him without speaking. Then, as he expected, another set of footsteps ran after them.

“Fine, fine. Two coppers a night for my special guests,” the innkeeper called.

Steve stopped and looked back. The innkeeper smiled eagerly, gesturing for them to return. The team members waited for Steve’s reaction.

“Two coppers,” the innkeeper repeated.

“Fine,” Steve echoed. “We will stay.”

The innkeeper led them through the main building and out a rear door. It opened on a courtyard enclosed on all four sides by a high masonry wall. Several bungalows stood lined up in the courtyard; in the shadows, Steve could not see how many. Carrying a small brass oil lamp, the innkeeper led them to the first bungalow. He lit the hanging lamps over the door and then two more small brass lamps inside.

Steve glanced around inside. It was clean and nicely furnished. The tables and chairs were made of plain but highly polished wood, intricately carved in patterns with tight curls. The innkeeper led them to both bedrooms; the heavy bed frames were made of the same kind of wood, and quilted cotton comforters covered them. A small fireplace, which they would not need, warmed the bungalow in winter.

“It is adequate.” Steve tried to sound unenthusiastic, to maintain his bargaining position in the future.

Hunter paid the innkeeper without speaking.

The innkeeper walked backward out of the door, bowing to them repeatedly, and closed it behind him.

Steve let out a breath of relief and grinned at the others. “I’m glad my bargaining worked out. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You got my signal,” said Marcia. “Very good. When we know the proper price of goods and services, bargaining is easy enough.”

“We aren’t cheating him, are we?” Jane asked. “We’re only paying a small fraction of what he wanted.”

“No,” said Marcia. “He wouldn’t have accepted if he could get a better price from someone else. It’s late now and this bungalow would probably go empty tonight without us. Besides, the economy isn’t strong here right now.”

“Huh?” Steve was surprised. “I thought Kublai Khan was some kind of great benevolent dictator.”

“For his time, he was very enlightened,” said Marcia. “But the Mongol emperors were not good rulers economically. The first issue of paper money from Kublai Khan, made in 1260, was recalled three years ago in 1287, on a one-to-five basis-your money was only worth twenty percent of its face value. Another depreciation of the same magnitude will happen again in less than twenty years-”

“So money is tight for ordinary people,” Steve interrupted quickly. “Okay, I get it.”

“I’m tired after that walk,” said Jane, just as fast. “I’m ready for bed, I think.” She glanced at Marcia warily. “How about you?”

“Well, yes, I am, too. It’s rather late by our schedule, isn’t it?”

I suggest you two take the larger bedroom,” said Hunter. “Steve can have the smaller one. I shall spend the night here in the front room.”

“Always on the lookout for the unforeseen danger.” Steve grinned. He took his change of clothes for the morning out of the bag, then handed the bag to Jane. “Well, I’m ready for a good night’s sleep, too. Good night.”

Dr. Wayne Nystrom landed flat on his back at dusk on the edge of some plowed field. The ground and air temperature were warm; this felt like a summer evening, which was what he expected. Next to him, he could see R. Ishihara sitting up. They both wore the tunics, leggings, and boots that Ishihara had originally designed for their trip to Roman Germany in A.D. 9. Wayne also still wore a long fur cloak that he had acquired, though Ishihara had traded his cloak away on their most recent trip to the area around Moscow in December 1941.

Wayne pushed himself up into a sitting position and saw a group of ten or twelve people standing about ten meters away, staring at them in shock. They wore thin shirts and trousers, and carried hoes, rakes, and scythes over their shoulders. Their faces were shadowed by basketlike hats made of woven grass.

With a sudden chorus of frightened shouts, the entire group turned and ran.

Wayne glanced around in other directions. Only a few meters away, an unpaved road led to a city that was visible in the distance. Many people were on it, going both to and from the city. “What do we do now? They saw us appear like magic.”

“I do not know,” said Ishihara, as he stood up. “Have we arrived in the right location? If not, we can simply move in time again and hope that seeing us arrive will have no serious effect on them.”

“This looks like the right place,” said Wayne, getting to his feet. “At least, I’d say that group is a bunch of Chinese peasants. And the weather feels right.”

“I agree.”

“The measurements I took from the console on the time travel sphere indicated that I should set the controls for the outskirts of Beijing in 1290,” said Wayne. “If that city’s Beijing, then this is where we want to be.”

“The system has always worked correctly before,” said Ishihara. “Apparently it is still reliable.”

Wayne looked down the road. The peasants had stopped running. Now they were talking excitedly among themselves, while still watching Wayne and Ishihara suspiciously. “I don’t know what kind of explanation we can give them. Maybe we better start walking.”

“Set the belt unit for another time,” said Ishihara. “If we have to use it in hurry, it will be ready.”

“Yeah.” Wayne paused and set the unit for the same location three hours later, after dark. Most likely, no one would be out here then. He glanced back at the group of peasants and froze.

They were coming closer, slowly. The men who held long-handled farm implements advanced in the front, holding their tools forward as weapons. Other men and women, holding smaller tools, followed them. Some were shouting angrily.

“Be prepared to trigger the belt unit,” said Ishihara. “It is too late to run from them.”

“All right. But maybe we can communicate somehow. I don’t suppose you know any medieval Chinese, though, huh?”

“No, I do not.”

Wayne forced a smile and held up a hand in greeting. “Hello,” he called out. More softly, he added, “I’m hoping they can understand a friendly tone of voice.”

The peasants stopped, still speaking excitedly among themselves. They kept their tools high, however. None of them looked away.

“I strongly recommend you trigger the belt unit,” said Ishihara.

“They keep saying something like ‘ guei ’ or ‘ kuai ’- something like that,” said Wayne. “Any idea what it means?”

“No,” said Ishihara. “And I must remind you that the First Law will force me to take the belt unit away from you and trigger it myself if they come much closer to us.”

“Well, they stopped when I smiled at them just now and said hello. Maybe we can get through to them. Show them that both your hands are empty. And smile.” Wayne felt more frightened than he sounded.