‘It is … possible,’ said Mobius. ‘It could occur in nature, and might even be duplicated by man. Except of course that men would have no use for it. It would be a by-product of some other experimentation, an accident.’
‘But if I knew how – if I could translate your math into engineering – you’re saying I could manufacture this, well, gateway?’ Harry was clutching at straws.
‘You? Hardly!’ Mobius chuckled. ‘But a team of scientists, with enormous resources and a limitless energy supply – yes!’
Harry thought of the experiments at Perchorsk, and his excitement was now obvious. ‘That’s the confirmation I needed,’ he said. ‘And now I have to be on my way.’
‘It was good to talk to you again,’ Mobius told him. ‘Take care, Harry.’
‘I will,’ Harry promised. And hugging his overcoat close to him (or if not “his” overcoat, one which he’d borrowed from Jazz Simmons’s wardrobe) Harry conjured a Mobius door and took his departure.
Leaves blew skitteringly between the graves and along the pathways. One such leaf, taken by surprise as it leaned against Harry’s shoe, suddenly went tumbling across the empty flags where a moment ago he’d been standing. But now, under the high-flying moon and cold, glittering stars, the Leipzig graveyard was quite, quite empty . . .
Some three days prior to (and an entire dimension away from) Harry’s visit to Mobius:
Jazz Simmons journeyed west with Zek, Lardis and his Travellers, journeyed in the golden glow of the slowly setting sun. He’d been pleased to be relieved of his kit, all except his gun and two full magazines, and knew that even though he was dog-tired he could now hold out until the Travellers made camp.
By this time, too, he’d had the opportunity to get a good close look at Zek in the extended evening light of Sunside, and he hadn’t been disappointed. She had somehow found the time to snatch a wash in a fast-flowing stream, which had served to greatly enhance her fresh, natural beauty. Now she looked good enough to eat, and Jazz felt hungry enough, too, except that would be one hell of a waste.
Zek had wrapped her sore feet in soft rags and now walked on grass and loamy earth instead of stone, and for all that she too was tired her step seemed lighter and most of the worry lines had lifted from her face. While she’d cleaned herself up, Jazz had used the time to study, the Travellers.
His original opinion seemed confirmed: they were Gypsies, Romany, and speaking in an antique ‘Romance’ tongue, too. It was hard not to deduce connections with the world he had left behind; maybe Zek would be able to explain some of the similarities. He determined to ask her some time, yet another question to add to a lengthening list. He was surprised how quickly he’d come to rely on her. And he was annoyed to find himself thinking about her when he should be concentrating on his education.
Many of the male Travellers wore rings in the lobes of their left ears, gold by the look of it, to match the bands on their fingers. No lack of that precious metal here, apparently; it decorated in yellow bands the hauling poles of their travois, studded their leather jackets and stitched the seams of their coarse-weave trousers, was even used to stud the leather soles of their sandals! But silver was far less in evidence. Jazz had seen arrows and the bolts of crossbows tipped with it, but never a sign of the stuff used for decoration. In this world, he would in time discover, it was far more precious than gold. Not least for its effect on vampires.
But the Travellers puzzled Jazz. He found strange, basic anomalies in them beyond his understanding. For example: it seemed to him that in many ways their world was very nearly primal, and yet the Travellers themselves were anything but primitive. Though he’d not yet seen an actual Gypsy caravan here, he knew that they existed; he’d observed a small boy of four or five years, sitting on a loaded, jouncing travois, playing with a rough wooden model. Between its shafts a pair of creatures like overgrown, shaggy sheep, also carved of wood, strained in their tiny harnesses of leather. So they had the wheel, these people, and beasts of burden; even though none were in evidence here. They could work metals, and with their use of the crossbow their weaponry could hardly be considered crude. Indeed, in almost every respect it was seen that theirs was a sophisticated culture. But on the other hand it was hard to see how, in this environment, they’d achieved any degree of culture at all!