She gave Roland a quick nod.
Roland waited until Steve said something to Hunter, distracting him. Rita knew, of course, that, as a robot, Hunter had multiple sensors and the ability to monitor them all with his full attention if he wished. However, he had no reason to keep track of Rita at every moment and his attention was on Steve’s comment.
Suddenly Roland grabbed her wrist and slipped sideways into the crowd, pulling her after him. She saw that he was careful not to move too fast, or jostle anyone unnecessarily; that might attract Hunter’s attention. Instead, he moved carefully and patiently, allowing them to blend into the crowd without disruption as they worked their way toward a small side street.
Rita looked back over her shoulder at Hunter, who was by then some distance away. He was still walking in the same direction as before, unaware that she was no longer right behind him. Then Roland pulled harder on her wrist and she hurried after him around a corner and out of Hunter’s sight.
“Run, Rita,” Roland called cheerily. He began to jog, still pulling her after him.
With her free hand, she reached up to switch off the communicator pinned to her collar. If Hunter called her, it would make some sort of sound, and might attract Roland’s attention. She didn’t want to wind up drowned, hanged, or burned as a witch if a buccaneer heard voices apparently coming from nowhere.
“Hunter,” said Steve. “This is fun, but maybe we should find a place to spend the night. Like you said, if MC 2 is still microscopic, we can’t possibly find him yet.”
“A good point,” said Hunter, looking toward the wooden buildings lining the waterfront. “I see a number of signs for inns. Shall we try that one?” He pointed.
Steve laughed, and caught Jane’s eye. Shaking her head, she took Hunter’s arm.
“Is this funny?” Hunter asked.
“We don’t want to stay in a waterfront inn,” said Jane.
“Too rough, Hunter,” said Steve.
“The accommodations must still be better than those in our previous trip.”
“It’s not the building, Hunter,” said Steve, glancing at Jane again with a suppressed smile. “It’s the company. We need to find a place with a nicer clientele.”
“I understand now,” said Hunter. “So we should leave the waterfront and look around.” He stopped and turned. “Rita, which way should we go?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, also turning. “There must be a better part of town…” He trailed off, looking around.
“Rita?” Jane called.
“Just lost in the crowd for a minute, I guess,” said Steve, peering at the faces of all the people who were walking past them. “Rita!”
“No,” said Hunter. He was holding his head high, standing motionless. “I do not see her anywhere nearby. I have raised the sensitivity of my hearing, as well, and I do not hear her voice or Roland’s, either.”
“You think he snatched her?” Steve asked, still looking around in the crowd. “I should have been watching them, but this never occurred to me.”
“It was my failure, not yours,” said Hunter. “I failed my First Law obligation again. However, I doubt that she went under duress. I would have noticed even the slightest scuffling or call for help originating right behind us.”
“He was a charmer, all right,” said Jane. “And Rita seemed to like him right away.”
“We will have to pick up their trail,” said Hunter. “Come on.” He started back the way they had come, his eyes scanning the crowd.
“No point yelling for them,” said Steve. “If she sneaked away deliberately, they’ll both run harder if they know we’re looking for them.”
“Maybe they aren’t really running,” said Jane. “Maybe Roland just stopped to introduce her to a friend. Or maybe she saw a booth where she wanted to look at something.”
“Maybe,” Steve said reluctantly. “But she’s a historian, not a tourist.”
“That’s true,” said Jane.
Hunter said nothing.
6
Steve had never before seen Hunter act with the precise mix of deliberation, sternness, and yet uncertainty that he exhibited after Rita’s disappearance. Worried, Steve leaned close to Jane. “Is Hunter okay? He’s talking in a monotone and walking like it’s a military march. Is he having another First Law attack or something?”
“He’s okay so far.” said Jane. “But his First Law interpretation places Rita’s welfare above that of the local population. He’s vary anxious to find her.”
“Yeah.” Steve straightened again. “Not to mention his fear that she’ll change history.”
“Excuse me,” Hunter said politely, to a couple of young buccaneers walking nearby. “Do you know a Roland Burke? I am searching for him.”
“So?” They both laughed and moved on without breaking stride.
“Does anyone here know a Roland Burke? Has anyone seen him just now?” Hunter shouted, and his booming voice attracted considerable attention.
No one responded, however. They looked at him warily and just kept walking.
“Let’s go over there,” said Steve suddenly. He pointed to a small knot of people. In the center, a skinny, gray-bearded man dressed only in ragged knee breeches was juggling four belaying pins. Steve led the way this time.
When the juggler had completed his performance, a few onlookers tossed coins into a scarf folded carefully at his feet. Steve stepped up quickly. Hunter and Jane stayed where they were.
“Hold it, friends,” Steve called. “We’re looking for a friend named Roland Burke, or any other friend of his. Does anyone here know him?”
Most of the audience just walked away, but a couple of young men remained.
“I’d say every third man on the waterfront knows Roland,” said one of them, a tall, burly man with curly hair. “What’s it to you?”
“We lost him in the crowd tonight,” said Steve. “Just a moment ago. Where can we find him?”
“If he’s a friend of yours, why don’t you know that already?” The buccaneer who had spoken stepped in front of Steve and glared down at him.
“Easy, friend,” said Hunter.
“Hunter-” Steve felt the big robot gently take his arm and pull him back. As Steve regained his balance, Hunter moved in front of him.
“I ain’t afraid of you, either,” said the curly-haired buccaneer. He was nearly a head shorter than Hunter, but hadn’t given any ground.
Steve knew Hunter didn’t want to hurt anyone, so he glanced around for a distraction. A small circle of onlookers had formed around them. He spied the juggler watching them, still holding his belaying pins.
“How much do you want for one of those?” Steve asked, nodding at the belaying pins.
The juggler grinned, showing gaps in his teeth. “Nothin’. I stole ‘em off my last ship.” He tossed one to Steve, obviously expecting him to use it on someone as a club.
Steve caught it. The belaying pin was made of hardwood and was both heavy and sturdy. It had a thick, oblong head and a narrower pin, long enough to hold as a handle. On shipboard, a sailor would slip the looped end of a rope through the pin, then push the pin into one of the many holes drilled in the ship for that purpose. That end of the rope would be held firm. The shape made the pin perfect as a club too.
The curly-haired buccaneer watched Steve with caution but no fear. “You boys want a fight, you got it.”
“Not me,” said Steve. “I just want to demonstrate something on my friend here.”
“And what would that be?”
“Hold still, Hunter,” said Steve.
“Okay,” said Hunter.
Steve held the belaying pin as a club and reared back. He swung it up and then down on Hunter’s head as hard as he could. The force of the blow shattered the hardwood and tore the remains from Steve’s hand. He gripped his sore hand with the other one, wincing.
Hunter smiled politely at the buccaneers, who stared at him in amazement.
“My friend has a hard head,” said Steve.
Still not taking his eyes off Hunter, the curly-haired buccaneer reached down and picked up a chunk of the broken wood. “That’s the real thing, ain’t it?”