James White - The First Protector

"Myself I think the idea has possibilities," Brian ended defensively, "which is why I want to find the drawings and make copies of them in case my principals in Hibernia would be interested in trying out the device for use as a…"

Sinead held up a hand and looked at Declan for agreement as she said, "Now that we know what it looks like, we would be pleased to help you find it."

But in the event they did not find it, even though Brian was known to the museum curator and was given every assistance. On the way back to the harbor he seemed much less disappointed than they were, and explained that a search of that kind was time-consuming and could take many weeks or months without any certainty of a successful outcome, and added that they should not concern themselves because he did not expect them to help him search every day.

The sun had set, dusk was falling rapidly and they were about twenty paces from the ship's berth when Sinead broke a long silence. There was not enough light to show her expression clearly, but her voice sounded strangely adult and very serious when she spoke.

"Brian," she said, "I hope you don't think me impertinent or needlessly inquisitive about your personal affairs, but are you a wealthy man? Do you really need to travel the world doing this very dangerous work? Would it not be more sensible and safer for you if you returned to Hibernia and enjoyed your wealth and reputation in comfort instead of continually risking your life?"

"It would indeed be sensible and safer," he replied, his teeth showing dimly in a smile. "But I would soon grow bored with that life and tire of endlessly recounting my adventures, and my friends would soon tire of listening to me. This style of life is unsafe, but interesting, and if…"

He stopped suddenly in his tracks so that Sinead and Declan had to turn back to him. In a troubled voice he said, "Have you found Ma'el gift at last? Can you see into my future, and are you warning me?"

"No. Yes. Perhaps," Sinead replied in confusion. After a moment she went on, "With respect, Brian, I have come to know you as a likable and learned rogue who lives and avoids death by your wits. I do not foresee the time and manner of your death, whether it be due to drowning at sea, the violence of enemies, or a foreign plague, but I strongly advise that when next you return to Hibernia you should stay there.

"It may not be a prediction," she ended in an embarrassed voice, "but a simple feeling of concern for a wayward friend in need of good advice."

"I rarely take good advice," said Brian, sounding relieved. "But for your concern, my lady, I thank you."

Ma'el Report. Day 112,954…

It is now sixty-three days since we unshipped my vehicle and left Alexandria to join a caravan bound for the Orient along the dusty, unpaved, and often sand-obliterated track that the natives, who are wont to use poetic license rather than accuracy in their descriptions of the local environment, so lyrically refer to as the Golden Road to Samarkand. Because of the heat, windblown sand, and insects I remain in the wagon, telling my servants that I need time to think and I am not to be disturbed unless an emergency arises. Since Sinead and Declan have been given custody of the chart with basic instructions in its use, such interruptions are few. But the thinking that I am free to do is neither positive nor constructive, and the process is being worsened by an increasing physical debility that I suspect may have a psychological basis.

"I am becoming increasingly prey to self-doubts regarding my mental and physical ability to complete this investigation. My insistence that I be severed from all but the most tenuous contact with the Commonality-ostensibly so that I could concentrate on my work without interruption but in reality, as they must already have realized, to avoid my every decision being scrutinized and debated endlessly by a Synodal committee-was perhaps too academically arrogant and overconfident on my part. I am not yet ready to discontinue this investigation, but 1 did not realize that complete isolation from our people would adversely affect my Taelon faculties to this extent.

"My timesight becomes less trustworthy with each passing day, yet I urgently need a view into near-future events. That is why the decision was taken to induce this faculty in the Earth species so that they, however imperfectly, will be able to provide me with the operating data and foresightings that I need. This is an action that will certainly draw censure from the Synod, and regrettably the result has been a failure where success was most needed.

"Following repeated cranial stimulation the female Sinead, who as my servant would have been the ideal local access window to the future, has proved to be an unsuitable candidate for precognition. Reluctant as I am to do so, for 1 have formed a liking for this servant, if I am not to remain completely blind to future events on this world it is imperative that I acquire another female who can be given the timesight…"

–

Because they were driving the only horse-drawn vehicle in a caravan of forty-three heavily laden camels and were expected to be the slowest of the company, they had been assigned the position at the end of the line. There the plodding feet of the beasts and the small contingent of foot guards ahead of them stirred up a constant cloud of dust that settled in thick layers on their clothing and tried to penetrate the narrow openings of the voluminous head wrappings to get into their eyes. When the wind was in the wrong quarter, as it was now, the smell of the camels was horrendous.

"You've a horse and are free to go where you like," said Sinead in a sarcastic voice from the driving bench. "Why don't you ride out bravely, cloak streaming out behind you in the wind, and scout the surrounding desert so as to warn us of a possible attack?"

Before setting out, Ma'el had provided Declan with a handsome white Arabian stallion who was smaller and perhaps half the age of the gray mare who was pulling the wagon. Once he had learned how to mount and ride it he had found that it was surefooted and could move like the wind. Right now the temptation to exercise his lovely mount was great, but in spite of Sinead's words he knew that that was not what she really wanted him to do.

Declan had discovered long since that she liked company in her misery.

"Does the chart show any signs of us being followed?" he asked. "Or of an ambush being laid between here and the caravanserai, or an attack developing on our flanks?"

"In order," she replied, "no, no, and I'm not sure."

"Let me see it," said Declan. He dismounted quickly, tied the reins loosely to one of the wagon shafts, and jumped up beside her.

The chart showed the land surface that lay within a day's march in every direction, and the morning sun was still close enough to the horizon for it to reveal the shadows between hills, dunes, and major surface irregularities around them. It also showed the long finger of windblown dust that was their caravan, and far to the north of the line of hills that lay ahead of them, a smaller and rounder cloud.

Declan pointed to it. "What's that?"

'That," she replied, "is what I'm not sure about."

"Let's have a closer look," he said, and tapped at the group of small and almost invisible circles on the lower corner of the chart. Immediately the picture slipped away to one side and shrank until the eastern edge of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea came into view. Declan swore in self-irritation.

"I'm a ham-fisted amadan." he said.

"That you are," she replied. Her tapping fingers, thinner and almost as delicate as Ma'el's, quickly brought the picture back to the area they wanted.

"That round cloud could be due to wind eddies among the dunes," she went on, "if it wasn't for the fact that whatever is causing it is not moving in the direction of the wind. Do you want a closer view?"