He called two more men from within the trees while we unbuckled our sword belts. He instructed them to escort us below, on foot. We were to lead our horses. The men took our weapons, and as we turned to go our interrogator cried out, “Wait!” I turned back toward him.
“You. What is your name?” he asked me.
“Corey” I said.
“Stand still.”
He approached, drawing very near. He stared at me for perhaps ten seconds.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
Instead of replying, he fumbled with a pouch at his belt. He withdrew a handful of coins and held them close to his eyes.
“Damn! It‘s too dark,” he said, “and we can‘t make a light.”
“For what?” I said.
“Oh, it is not of any great importance,” he told me. “You struck me as familiar, though, and I was trying to think why. You look like the head stamped on some of our old coins. A few of them are still about.
“Doesn‘t he?” he addressed the nearest bowman.
The man lowered his crossbow and advanced. He squinted at me from a few paces‘ distance.
“Yes,” he said then, “he does.”
“What was it—the one we‘re thinking of?”
“One of those old men. Before my time. I don‘t remember.”
“Me neither. Well . . .” He shrugged. “No importance. Go ahead, Corey. Answer their questions honestly and you‘ll not be harmed.”
I turned away and left him there in the moonlight, gazing after me and scratching the top of his head.
The men who guarded us were not the talkative sort. Which was just as well.
All the way down the hill I wondered about the boy‘s story and the resolution of the conflict he had described, for I had achieved the physical analogue of the world of my desire and would now have to operate within the prevailing situations.
The camp had the pleasant smell of man and beast, wood smoke, roasting meat, leather and oil, all intermingled in the firelight where men talked, honed weapons, repaired gear, ate, gamed, slept, drank, and watched us as we led our mounts through their midst, escorted in the direction of a nearly central trio of tattered tents. A sphere of silence expanded about us as we went.
We were halted before the second-largest tent and one of our guards spoke with a man who was pacing the area. The man shook his head several times and gestured in the direction of the largest tent. The exchange lasted for several minutes, then our guard returned and spoke with the other guard who waited at our left. Finally, our man nodded and approached me while the other summoned a man from the nearest campfire.
“The officers are all at a meeting in the Protector‘s tent,” he said. “We are going to hobble your horses and put them to graze. Unstrap your things and set them here. You will have to wait to see the captain.” I nodded, and we set about unstowing our belongings and rubbing the horses down. I patted Star on the neck and watched a small man with a limp lead him and Ganelon‘s mount Firedrake off toward the other horses. We sat on our packs then and waited. One of the guards brought us some hot tea and accepted a pipeful of my tobacco. They moved then to a spot somewhat to our rear.
I watched the big tent, sipped my tea, and thought of Amber and a small night club in the Rue de Char et Pain in Brussels, on the shadow Earth I had so long inhabited. Once I obtained the jewelers rouge I needed from here, I would be heading for Brussels to deal with the arms merchants of the Gun Bourse once again. My order would be complicated and expensive, I realized, because some ammunition manufacturer would have to be persuaded to set up a special production line. I knew dealers on that Earth other than Interarmco, thanks to my itinerant military background in that place, and I estimated that it would only take me a few months to get outfitted there. I began considering the details and time passed quickly and pleasantly.