The Warlock Wandering (6 page)

"The tracks just looked too much like the ones you left the last time you vanished into thin air."

Rod nodded, remembering their involuntary trip to Tir Chlis. "I always keep underestimating Brom. What'd he do about it?"

"Same thing as last time—called me."

Rod frowned. "But you had disappeared, too." Yorick shrugged. "So he told Korig. You remember him, the big guy with the heavy jaw?"

"Your deputy." Rod nodded. "He knew how to get a hold of you?"

42 Christopher Stasheff

"Oh, you just bet he did! Didn't think I'd leave the poor guy completely on his own, did you? I mean, what would happen if SPITE or VETO tried to make trouble in the Neanderthal colony again?"

"The Futurian time-travel departments." Rod nodded, and made a mental note that there was still a time machine in Beastland. One belonging to GRIPE, the democrats' timetravel company—but a time machine nonetheless. Might come in handy, some time. "So Korig called you?" Yorick nodded. "And 1 called Doc Angus. Actually, Doc got the message first; I wasn't in at the time. A little problem with King Louis the Bald trying to become a despot."

"What'd you do about it?... NO! Strike that! Let's stay with the business at hand."

Yorick shrugged. "Any way you want. So Doc Angus did a little research."

Rod remembered his fleeting glimpse of the white-maned, hawk-nosed, deformed little scientist—the head of GRIPE.

"What kind of research?"

"He came, he saw—and he figured you'd been conquered. At least long enough to kidnap you. Of course, you could have been dead—but Doc likes to look on the bright side. So he assumed you'd been abducted back into the past."

Rod frowned. "Why not the future? Or an alternate universe?"

"Or even just a matter-transmitter." Yorick shrugged.

"All possible, but he checked out the time machine hypothesis first, since that was the easiest for him." Rod shook his head slowly, staring. "He had eight thousand years of human history to cover, not to mention a good hundred thousand of pre-history—and, for all he knew, a billion years or so before that! How'd he do it?" Yorick shrugged. "Simple. He just told his agents, all up and down the time-line, to be on the lookout for the two of you—and sure enough, we just happen to have an agent

here on Wolmar, and he'd noticed that a pack of Wolmen had chased in a couple of greenhorns in Tudor costumes. So he called for help right away—and as soon as I was done with that French job. Doc sent me to this time-locus. So here I am."

"Whoa." Rod held up a hand. "One problem at a time here. First—here? Wolmar? This insignificant little planet, out in the Marches? Why would Dr. McAran go to the trouble of putting an agent here?"

"Because it's pivotal to the rebirth of democracy," Yorick explained. "General Shacklar knows that the only way for anybody to survive on this planet is to get the Wolmen and the colonists working together."

"I'd begun to get an inkling of that." Rod nodded. "Getting two groups of people who're so different to live peacefully—that's an amazing accomplishment."

"Especially considering that they were at each other's throats only about ten years ago."

Rod and Gwen both stared.

Yorick nodded. "Oh yes, milord. It was all-out war, and very bloody, too. It went on for a dozen years before Shacklar came, without the slightest trace of mercy on either side."

"How'd he manage to stop it?"'

"Well, he had an advantage." Yorick shrugged. "Both sides were heartily sick of it. All he had to do was find them a good excuse, and they were both ready to stop shooting. Of course, he didn't try to get them to lay down their weapons—that would've been asking too much." Gwen frowned. "Then this war could begin anew, at a moment's notice."

Yorick nodded. "All that prevents it is the system Shacklar's worked out for resolving disputes."

"Yeah—we kind of had a taste of that earlier today." Rod exchanged glances with Gwen. "It does seem kind of fragile, though."

"Definitely. Shacklar still has a long way to go before 44 Christopher Stasheff

both sides are safe from each other. He's got to weld them together into a single political entity, fully equal, and re-specting each other."

"Doth he mean that Wolmen and soldiers both, must have common courts of justice?"

"Well, having them join together in a single judiciary would certainly help." Rod pursed his lips. "But he'd also need some way of making them join in a single legislative body."

Gwen frowned. "What mean these words, milord?"

"That's right, you're a loyal subject of Their Majesties ... Well, dear, it's possible for people to make their own laws."

"Thou dost not say it!"

"Oh, but I do. Of course, you have to be sure ahead of time that everybody will agree to those laws, or they'll be awfully hard to enforce."

'"No prince may govern without the consent of the governed,'" Yorick quoted. Rod threw him a glance of irritation. "Thank you. Nick Machiavelli."

"He wasn't so bad a guy. Just trying to be realistic, that's all."

"Oh? When was the last time you talked to him?" Yorick opened his mouth to answer.

"NO! I don't want to know!" Rod held up a palm. "Well, dear, the best way to make sure the people won't object to any new laws is to have them choose their own lawmakers." Gwen just stared at him.

"It's possible," Yorick murmured. "I know it sounds farfetched, but it's possible." Gwen turned to him. "Didst thou, then, have to become thus accustomed to such strangeness?"

"Who, me?" The Neanderthal spread his hands. "My people didn't even have laws. Everybody just sort of agreed on everything...."

"So, then." Gwen turned back to Rod. "This planet hath no king."

Rod shook his head. "Just General Shacklar, on the colonists' side. I assume the Wolmen have some kind of a leader, too—but I don't think they've decided to get royal about it yet."

"Yet they do govern themselves?"

"Well, that's what Shacklar's working on. But it's been done in other places—quite a few of them. Basically, they choose their own king—but all he gets to do is carry out the lawmakers' decisions. He doesn't even get to judge people charged of crimes, or resolve disputes. There's a system of courts and judges for that."

"So, then." Gwen gazed off into space, and Rod could hear her thoughts—a train of logic tripping over bit by bit in a long chain. "Before it could lead to revolution," she said gently.

"Yes, dear. That's what I'm trying to bring about on Gramarye."

She stared, and he saw understanding come into her eyes.

"Thou dost take long enow in the doing of it!"

"Have to." Rod shook his head. "There's no shortcut. It has to develop out of the people themselves, or it won't last. There're a thousand different ways of doing it, one for each society that has developed self-government—because it has to grow, like a tree. It can't be grafted onto a people."

"The grafts never take," Yorick murmured.

"Or they take graft, but that happens in every system when it starts to die. In fact, that's part of what kills it."

"But we're in at the beginning." Yorick grinned. "It can't be corrupted yet, because it hasn't quite begun."

"Amazing how much Shacklar has done, though." Rod turned to the Neanderthal. "How's he going to wield them into one complete political unit?" "'

"How'd he do this much?" Yorick shrugged. "Sorry, Major—I didn't have time for a full briefing; I had to just grab 46 Christopher Stasheff

what few facts I could, before I jumped into the time machine. But he will manage it, say our boys from up the time-line, if we can fight off the SPITE and VETO agents who're trying to do him in, and his system with him." Rod stared. The Society for the Prevention of Integration of Telepathic Entities was the Anarchists' time-travel department, as the Vigilant Exterminators of Telepathic Organisms was the Totalitarians'. The two of them were the banes of his existence on Gramarye. "They're after him, too?"

"Sure. Your world isn't the only one that's crucial to the future of democracy, milord."

"But why is Wolmar so important?"

"Mostly because it's one of the few pockets of democracy that's going to keep going all through the PEST centuries; at least it'll keep the idea alive. But also because it's going to be the headquarters for the educational effort." Rod stared. Then he closed his eyes, gave his head a quick shake, and looked again.

Yorick nodded. "That's why we have to have an agent stationed here—to make sure the SPITE and VETO boys don't get to sabotage Shacklar's system."

"You bet you have to!"

"Yet an there be one of thy folk here," said Gwen, "wherefore can he not care for us?"

"Who said it was a he?"

"Why..." Gwen looked at Rod. "I would ha' thought..." Yorick shook his head. "All we ask is that an agent be capable."

"Then thine agent here is female?"

"Now, I didn't say that." Yorick held up a palm. "And I'm not about to, either. The whole point is that our agent has managed to establish a very good cover, and we don't want to blow it. Stop and think about it—can you figure out who it is?"

Rod stared at the ape-man for a moment, then shook his

head. "You're right—I can't."

Gwen turned to gaze about them, her eyes losing focus.

"Uh-uh, milady!" Yorick wagged a forefinger at her. "No fair reading minds. It's better for us all if you don't know who it is! After all, what you don't know, you can't let slip."

"So they sent in a special agent," Rod said, "you. After all, if your cover's blown, it won't be any major tragedy."

"I wasn't planning to use it again, anyway." Yorick nodded.

"Thus thou'rt come in aiding us to return to our home!" Yorick kept nodding. "Going to try, anyway. I've got a time-beacon with me. All I have to do is push the button, and it'll send a teeny ripple going through the time-stream. When that ripple hits the receiver in Doc Angus' headquarters, he'll know exactly when and where we are, so he'll be able to shoot us all the spare parts for making a time machine. And I'll put them together, press the button—

and voila! You'll be home!"

Rod frowned. "But why can't he just press a button and pick us up? 1 mean, he shot you here without a time machine to receive you, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't work both ways." Yorick shrugged.

"Don't ask me why—I'm just the bullet. I don't understand the gun, milord."

"Uh, can the 'milord' business." Rod darted nervous glances around the room. "I don't think they'd understand it here."

"Suits." Yorick shrugged again. "What do you want me to call you?"

"How about, uh—'major?' They'd recognize that, and it's legit; I'm just not in the same army, that's all."

"Any way you want it. Major."

"Thanks." Rod hunched forward, frowning. "Now, about time-travel. Why does it only work one way?"

"I said not to ask me that!" Yorick winced. "What do I 48 Christopher Stasheff

know? I'm just a dumb caveman. But I think it's sorta like—

well, you can throw a spear, but you can't make it fly back to you. Understand?"

"You can tie a rope to it." Rod remembered reading every other chapter of Moby Dick.

"A rope five hundred years long? Gets a little weak in the middle. Major. And five hundred is a short haul, where I come from."

Rod felt an attack of stubbornness coming on. "It should be possible, though."

"Okay, so maybe it is, but Doc Angus just hasn't figured out how to do it yet. And I get the impression that no one ever will."

"Watch out for the absolutes." Rod raised a cautioning finger. "The boys up the time-line might just not have told you yet."

"Possible," Yorick admitted, "but not probable. We're both fighting the same enemies—and if SPITE saw a chance to get the jump on VETO, you can bet they'd leap at it—

especially a jump like that! And if the VETO boys thought they could get an edge on SPITE, they'd grab it, too."

"And they would both rejoice to gain advantage over thy GRIPE," Gwen added.

"Oh, you betcha, lady!"

"Well, I guess we all have to take McAran's word for it." Rod pushed back his chair and stood up. "Might as well get moving on it, eh? It's going to be kind of hard, trying to find a place in this colony where we can be alone for a couple of hours."

"Well, more like sixteen, really." Yorick stood up, too.

"It takes a little time, getting the components through. Not to mention putting them together." He turned to Gwen. "If you'll excuse us, milady..."

"Nay, I will not." Gwen was already coming around the table. "Whither mine husband goeth, I go."

"Oh, Don't think I can take care of myself yet, eh?" Rod grinned. "Or don't you trust me out of your sight?"

"Somewhat of both, mayhap." Gwen tucked her arm through his. "Yet whate'er the cause, thou shalt not leave me. Lead on. Master Yorick."

"Any way you want it, milady." The ape-man laid some IDE bills on the table and turned to the door.

Rod eyed the money with appreciation. "You do come prepared, don't you?"

"Huh?" Yorick turned back and saw where Rod was looking. "Oh! Just the basic survival kit. Major. We have one ready for every time and clime."

Rod turned away to the door with him. "Y' know, it's kind of funny that this outlying planet would still use IDE

paper money, even after the government that printed it has died."

"Why? It's not really paper, y' know, it's a very tough plastic. It'll last forever—or a couple of centuries, at least."

"Well, yeah, but it doesn't have any value in itself. It's only as good as the government that printed it."

"Yeah, but it still works just fine. if everybody believes in it—and they do. Helps that it's based on energy—their basic monetary unit was the BTU. So many BTUs equal a kwaher—a kilowatt-hour—and so many kwahers equal a therm. So the money supply only gets increased when there's more energy available within the interplanetary system as a whole."