In front of Hunter, a short, brawny buccaneer stomped forward to a bar made of three rough planks resting on a couple of barrels. Behind the makeshift bar, an overweight man in a shirt with full, baggy sleeves was dipping tankards into an open keg and setting them on the bar. Hunter watched carefully.
“Gimme four o’ those,” said the man in front, tossing down a small coin.
Hunter quickly sorted through his pouch for a coin of the same size. When his turn came, he tossed it down on the bar. “I would like four drinks, also, please.”
The barkeep glanced at him in surprise, perhaps at his phrasing, but said nothing. The man set four full tankards on the bar and scooped the coin into a pouch of his own. Hunter turned and handed out the tankards to his companions.
“Let’s move out of the way of the bar,” said Rita. She edged through the crowd and the others followed her.
Hunter took a sip of his drink. He found the flavor too strong to be pleasant. As his system quickly analyzed its contents, he realized that the substance was called rum. In small amounts, it was not necessarily dangerous to humans, but its effects could be if the amount accumulated.
Steve took a mouthful and grimaced before swallowing. “Wow. No wonder these guys are mean.”
“Please be careful with the amount of alcohol you consume,” said Hunter. “Remember, I am concerned with your health, under the First Law.”
Rita and Jane both took more cautious tastes. “Our modern rum is more refined,” Rita said quietly. “This is rather harsh, isn’t it?”
Jane made a face. “I think I’ll just hold mine, to look the part.”
“Aye, drink up,” said a stranger, hoisting his tankard to Hunter. “It flows freely in Port Royal tonight, but you never know when the river will stop.” He was tall man, only a little shorter than Hunter, with bushy red hair.
“Good evening,” said Hunter. “My name is Hunter. These are Steve, Rita, and Jane.”
“Greetings to all. I am Leitch. Haven’t seen you before, Hunter; you’re too big to forget. Sail in recently, did you?”
“We arrived today,” said Hunter. He glanced at Rita for help, concerned that he might say something that would reveal their status as ignorant strangers.
“I don’t recall any ships putting in today,” said another man, staggering against Leitch. He was a shorter, stocky man with a French accent.
Leitch elbowed him hard and shoved him upright again. “You sleep all day again, Cresson?”
Rita took Hunter’s arm casually and leaned against him. He realized that this was part of her playacting, but he was not sure what to do in response. Deciding to be cautious, he did nothing.
“Hunter,” said Rita. “I’ll bet these guys know a lot of people. Maybe we should tell them what your friend looks like. I know you want to be careful, but we could ask them.”
“How’s that?” Leitch looked at her over his tankard as he took another swig.
“I am searching for a friend,” said Hunter. “A small, slender man, probably in clothes that, uh-” He stopped uncertainly, looking at Rita.
“He probably scavenged them someplace,” said Rita. “He never has any money.”
“Sounds like most of my friends,” said Leitch, grinning at Cresson.
“He learns fast,” said Steve. “But he hasn’t spent much time in this part of the world.”
“Ah! Doesn’t know the ropes, eh?” Cresson nodded. “Can’t say I’ve seen anyone of that sort around lately, but if he’s on the docks, we’ll see him sooner or later.”
Leitch eyed Steve carefully. “Spanish, are you? With a touch of Moorish blood? Your English is very good.”
“Thank you,” said Steve, with a shrug.
Hunter saw that Jane was quietly shifting behind Steve. Cresson was studying her with a great deal of interest. Steve glanced at Hunter.
Suddenly angry shouts could be heard off to ‘one side, toward the docks. Hunter turned and was able to see over the heads of most of the crowd. Two buccaneers had squared off, one holding a curved dagger much like Rita’s and the other grasping a belaying pin.
Hunter’s first reflex was to shove forward through the crowd and stop them. He resisted it, with effort, reminding himself that the larger First Law issue in the future took precedence over the welfare of these two buccaneers. Still, he stared at them with a kind of horror.
“Steady, Hunter,” said Jane softly. “If you’re having trouble, review your internal data about chaos theory. Reinforce your understanding that the First Law can be served by letting these guys fight.”
“Thank you,” Hunter said quietly. He followed her instructions instantaneously. It helped him keep his priorities clear, though his positronic brain still wanted to break up the fight.
“Haw! Look at that!” Leitch punched Cresson on the arm. “I’ll wager the next round of drinks that Carlos takes him.”
“With a belaying pin? You’re on,” said Cresson. “Come on, let’s move closer.”
They both pushed forward to see better.
Hunter realized that nearly everyone in the crowd was laughing, yelling encouragement or insults, and wagering on the outcome of the fight. None of them seemed to take it seriously, though both combatants held potentially lethal weapons. Their casual attitude toward such violence matched his historical data, but it made him very uncomfortable.
“All right, Hunter?” Jane asked, taking his arm. “You aren’t freezing up, are you?”
“No, Jane,” said Hunter. “I have to remain active in order to protect the three of you if the violence spreads. I think we should leave, though, and look elsewhere for MC 2.”
“Good idea.”
“Okay,” Steve said reluctantly. He obviously wanted to watch the fight.
“Let’s go out this way,” said Rita. She led the team away from the crowd to one side, well away from the developing fight. Other eager observers moved up to take their places.
The team followed Rita up the waterfront. Hunter felt a slight sense of relief, but he realized that these First Law situations were going to continue as long as he was in the past among humans. In this respect, going back to the dinosaur age had been easier, since the only humans there had all come from the future.
Jane stopped suddenly, grabbing Hunter’s arm. “There’s another fight.”
Hunter looked. Ahead, two large men were shouting at each other in the light from a tavern doorway. A short, slender man was trying to interfere.
5
All three figures in the tavern doorway were silhouettes against the torchlight from inside. None of them could be seen clearly. So far, they were merely scuffling with each other, the two larger men yelling insults.
“Is the short one MC 2?” Rita asked anxiously.
“He’s roughly the right size,” Steve said in a low voice, uncertainly. “Hunter, what do you think? What do you want us to do?”
Striding forward quickly, Hunter turned up all his senses. The figure trying to break up the fight was not speaking, but just pushing between the two men, so Hunter couldn’t judge his voice. He was calling MC 2 on his internal radio link, but MC 1 had shut down his receiver to avoid receiving messages under the Second Law; MC 2 would probably do the same.
“We have to stop him and see,” Hunter decided. “I will go first. If you can help, act on your own, but don’t take any risks unnecessarily.” He jogged forward.
Suddenly the two shouting men lunged at each other, grappling for a moment and trying to gain some advantage. The smaller figure had gotten caught between them. Hunter broke into a run.
“Stop!” Hunter shouted in a deep, authoritative voice as he drew closer. “Stop!” None of the three struggling fighters seemed to hear him.
Hunter reached the three and grabbed an arm of the two larger men in each hand. Neither was as tall as Hunter. He pulled them apart and shoved, pushing them off balance. In the same moment, the smaller man ducked under one of Hunter’s outstretched arms and backed away.