”Okay.”
”Just remember one thing: try to avoid putting fourfooted creatures on some moral pedestal that bears no resemblance whatsoever to reality. Misjudging animal behavior and motives does the animal no favors and can be fatal to you. I think,” he stood up, “I’ll head back upstairs now. You’re making good progress,” he allowed, “but you still have a lot of work ahead of you. Ann, thanks. I’ll see you at dinner, Margo. Meet me at the Delight.”
”Really?” Margo’s face lit up.
”Yes, really,” he grinned. “See you this evening.”
As he left the range, he heard Ann saying, “Now, this is a very early type of firearm called a pole gun … .”
* * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
Margo was on her way to the Delight when the bones behind her ears began to ache. She frowned and peered toward the nearest chronometer for the scheduled gate postings. “London … Primary … Rome … Denver…” She ran down the whole list, but nothing was due to open. The sensation worsened.
”Oh, no, not again …”
‘Eighty-sixers began to converge. Margo decided she’d better skedaddle, post-haste. She put on a burst of speed-and propelled herself straight through a black rent in the air that appeared smack in front of her. She screamed and plunged through the gate before she could halt her forward momentum. She had a brief, tunnel-vision view of a broad, silver river in flood stage, long low banks that sloped gently up to what appeared to be a vast flat plain, and a walled city. A two-part fortified bridge with a tower spanned the river. Standing at the crest of a low, open hill, the city clearly commanded a strategic position overlooking the river. Twin spires of a white stone cathedral were visible above the city walls. Between Margo and the walls …