She crouched down beside one of the two benches set to face the fountain and, though the long cloak masked her movements, Jofre thought she was in some way hiding or withdrawing from hiding some object.
He could catch, even through the continued tinkling of the fountain a faint scraping sound, even a click. Then she was on her feet again, hurrying back the way she had come. He watched her disappear before, like any trail hound, he went to sniff at the place she had been busy.
His fingers touched moist earth, crumbs of it. She had not taken time to sweep entirely away the traces of her work here. His nails caught under the edge of a flat stone like those which paved the section of earth between bench and fountain and the rock yielded to his pull. Carefully he used his fingertips since it was too dark in this corner to depend upon his eyes to explore the find. What he examined by touch was a roll covered with some slick material, the whole perhaps as big as his hand. Jofre was greatly tempted to take it. To his exploratory pinch the contents within that narrow bag yielded a little—nothing stiff or hard. He could, in spite of all his prodding, discover nothing solid. This might not be a conventional weapon nor even the fruits of some theft—unless what had been taken was some type of record.
At length he decided to leave it where it was. If he had time to stand spy here, to discover if what he had uncovered was merely a way place for message exchange and not a secure depository, he could doubtless learn—but that time was not his—not this night.
He had already been away from their apartment too long. To be sighted by the reviving sentry was the last thing which must happen. Regretfully he replaced the stone and this time he made sure there were no crumbs of soil about to betray that it had been moved at all.
Back he prowled through the dining hall, down the corridor. To his relief the guard was still wall supported and yet as unconscious as he left him and he was able to squeeze within the narrowly open door and begin the same worm's journey back to his sleeping cushion.
Once stretched out there he allowed himself to relax, loosed the strains he had put upon every sense during that night's journeying. And that relaxation allowed him to slip into the slumber which he had banished so ruthlessly earlier. He did not try to relive his exploit, to wonder about what he had seen—there would be plenty of time for that later.
Though there was no sun beaming through a window to waken him, the daytime glow of the walls appeared to arouse one with the same efficiency. He stretched and became aware that the Zacathan was standing near, watching him.
"Only one with a quiet mind can sleep so well," Zurzal observed. "No dreams, Shadow, to plague you? That is well. We need clear minds and ready spirits—"
Jofre sat up. "We need these minds and spirits to a greater degree than ordinarily, Learned One? I await orders."
"The Illustrious Holder has thought that he would like a demonstration—"
"I thought—" Jofre was startled enough to begin when Zurzal interrupted.
"It seems that there are those the Holder would like to have see a small exhibit of what can be expected. The crew who are to arrange for the broadcast of the Fiftieth time scene believe they can work better if they are shown what to expect."
"The time scanner in the hall—"
"Ah, no. The Holder wishes something a little less impressive. There are some ruins from the old days within a short distance. It has been arranged that we visit those with the scanner—and a selected number of guests—this morning."
And if it does not work Jofre wanted to ask but thought better of it. He believed that Zurzal had been given little or no choice, that the Zacathan was caught earlier than he had expected in a tight web of what must be deception. Oddly enough, however, Jofre detected no sign of disturbance in either the Zurzal's voice or actions, his frill had not risen.
It was midmorning before they were escorted out of their quarters by Harse and his usual squad of guards, Jofre being ordered at Zurzal's demand to carry a bag which the Zacathan insisted held auxiliary equipment. Once more they entered a flitter waiting on a terrace approach above ground level and took off, heading out towards a range of hills which appeared to lead upward, like the beginning of a giant flight of stairs, into fog-dimmed shapes of mountains.
Jofre saw that other flitter already landed as they set down and standing by it the Holder and— This woman was as well robe-wrapped as the one he had spied upon the night before, and yet he was sure of her identity. The Jewelbright had also been brought to watch this phenomenon of time past.
He was able to pick out the weathered ruins which were their goal, so time eroded that there was little to be seen above the drifted earth. This was a country of rocks and what vegetation existed was a meeting of small drab plants clinging to crevices and the rough parts of the stones.
Jofre had favored the Jewelbright with a single glance. Though there certainly was not much of her to be seen, even her hands were concealed within the wide, enveloping folds of the cloak, and the hood was drawn well forward to shade her face. That cover-up might have been in protection against the furies of grit which breezes, funneling down the cut in which they stood, whirled about them.
Sopt s'Qu was very much to the fore but he was not a happy man, rather one who displayed every sign of nervousness. Perhaps even more than Zurzal he feared failure. But he spoke up loudly as they joined the other party.
"This is a place of which there is no mention, even in the First Archives. The Holder wishes to see what the time scanner will make of this. Perhaps there can be little hope of such far reach—"
Was the Horde Commander trying to provide them with an excuse? If so, Zurzal did not fasten on it. In fact there seemed to be very little uncertainty about the Zacathan— he was all business, beckoning to Jofre who went down on one knee and unrolled the bundle he had carried, setting together the rods within as Zurzal had earlier demonstrated, to make a holder for the scanner. In order to steady that on this rough ground it was necessary for Jofre to hold it in place while the Zacathan worked.
At last Zurzal looked over his shoulder. "I have set it to the farthest extent possible, Illustrious One, since this site is said to be so old. We can only hope that it comes within range. Now!"
Jofre nearly jumped, for that last word had the force of an order as Zurzal reached out with his good hand and pressed firmly down on a lever.
THERE WAS A SUDDEN UPRISING OF THE GRIT-FILLED wind between them and the well-eroded stones. Or was it that? Jofre blinked and blinked again. That mist appeared to be thickening in places, thinning patches showing between spots. Color—a warmth of that. But it was like trying to see through a bog mist which swirled and eddied, enveloped and revealed.
Figures—yes! At least dim shadows which were not fixed, but appeared to move backward or forward. He saw with sudden clarity a single face which held so for no longer than it took him to expel the breath from his lungs, but he would take full oath to the fact he saw it.
It did not hold long, that mingling of denser shadows in a mist. Then it was gone as Zurzal clapped the edge of his hand down across the lever.
"No—!" That protest had come from the Holder; he alone of their company had found a voice.
"Yesssss—" Zurzal hissed. "Would you put such a strain on this," his hand caressed the scanner, "that it cannot be used without lengthy recharging? You have a time limit set for that which you wish to see the most."
"Yes," the Holder nodded, "yes, that is so. But—why do you say this scanner will not work, Learned One? Have we not just seen it in action?"