"I'd say that's pretty clear. It comes down to you or me," Yorick said. "And, if you'll pardon my male chauvinism…"
"I won't," Chornoi snapped. "I told you I've spent time among the Wolmen. I'll be safe, believe me, especially since I never made any bones about how much I didn't like the way the colonists did things. The Wolmen heard about it and began to chum up to me—oh, not making passes or anything, don't worry about that; they've got their own ideals of beauty, and I'm not up to their standards."
Rod bit his tongue.
"But they did cultivate me as a possible ally within Shacklar's camp. Not that I ever would've betrayed the soldiers…" A shadow crossed Chornoi's face. "…I hope. Hope even more that I never have to find out the hard way… Anyhow!" She straightened, eyes flashing. "It's enough to guarantee that I'll be safe, till I see you back in town."
"That's kind of odd, as diplomacy goes," Rod said, frowning. "On their part, I mean. That kind of wily statecraft doesn't quite square with the usual concept of the unsophisticated aborigine."
"Shacklar and Cholly have been trying very hard to sophisticate them, thank you," Chornoi snorted. "Cholly's traders are really teachers in disguise."
"Oh!" Rod lifted his head, a few facts suddenly colliding and yielding solutions. "So that's why he doesn't make much money off his Pharmaceuticals trade."
Chornoi nodded. "Something like that. His traders keep the prices low and the payments high, so that the Wolmen will keep coming back to talk to them. They've been doing a very good job of giving the Wolmen a modern education— including political science. And they begin it with Machiavelli."
Rod saw Yorick open his mouth, and said quickly, "So they know the realities of technological culture—including back-stabbing."
Chornoi nodded. "And a lot of other things you wouldn't expect them to know. But it has the advantage of letting them take the long view."
"Including being careful to protect a potential ally."
"Yes, as long as the truce holds, and it'll hold at least until your trial is over."
"And thou wilt return ere then?"
Chornoi nodded. "I'll check out this area as soon as it's light. I should be back on the civilized side shortly after dawn. If I'm too late to catch you before the courtroom, I'll drop in there." Her smile hardened. "I'll be back, don't worry. I'll be back. You folks go on now… What are you waiting for? Go on, now! Go!"
Slowly, they turned, and began to go down the hillside.
"Dosta truly believe she will be secure?" Gwen asked.
Yorick shrugged. "I dunno—these boys are savages, even though they're synthetic ones. What do you think, Major?"
"I think they're male," Rod answered, "and I think Chornoi knows just how much of a woman she is, regardless of what she said about their standards of beauty."
"There's truth in that," Gwen agreed, "and I doubt not she could lay low any warrior who sought to best her."
"Well, it'd be an even match, at least."
"No, not really," Yorick disagreed. "After all, she is a professional."
Gwen turned back for a last look, concern furrowing her brow—and froze, with a gasp.
Yorick and Rod turned back to look.
Chornoi stood at the top of the rise, stripped naked and glowing in the moonlight. As they watched, she scooped her fingers into a flat roundel and rubbed them over her arm. The skin darkened.
"Body-paint," Yorick murmured. "Betcha it's purple, Major."
"And I'll bet we'll find out tomorrow." Rod turned away, shaking his head. "Come on, troops. Somehow, I just became sure she'll be safe."
"As the mercury said to the water, 'Pardon my density.'" Yorick's gaze swiveled from Rod to Gwen and back. "But if we can do it this way, why that charade with the sentry on the way out?"
"Why, for that Chornoi did not know we were witch-folk." Gwen tucked her arm more tightly into Yorick's.
"Yeah—you know what we are," Rod reminded him, "but Chornoi probably doesn't even believe in ESP, let alone know we've got it."
"I see." Yorick nodded. "Mustn't shock the poor thing, must we? After all, she might decide she's on the other side."
"Well, her volunteering was an enormous stroke of luck…"
"Sure. Now I get it. Oh, I'm quick."
"Indeed thou art, in regard to most matters," Gwen assured him.
"Yeah, we all have our blind spots," Rod agreed. "Now, as one agent to another—do you really think Chornoi will learn anything more than we already found out?"
Yorick shrugged. "Hard to say. I don't really think there was any more evidence up there at the murder site, but you never know, do you?"
"True, true." Rod gazed steadily at the top of the wall. "On the other hand, she was pretty obviously planning to interrogate some Wolmen."
"Well, at least Hwun," Yorick qualified. "I mean, he does have to come up to greet the sun tomorrow morning, doesn't he?"
Rod shuddered. "That guy gives me the creeping chillies."
"In truth, he is cold," Gwen agreed.
"Not what you'd expect, in a Gestalt culture," Yorick agreed. "Not quite human, y'know?"
"Look who's talking," Rod grunted.
"Could we hold down on the racial slurs, here?" Yorick had the rare case of using the term correctly. "Besides, even if he is Mr. Fishface, I'll bet Chornoi will get every ounce of information that he's got. I mean, male is male."
"I know what you mean," Rod agreed, "and I don't doubt it for a second. It's just that I don't expect there to be a hell of a lot of information for her to get."
"True, true." Yorick looked towards the Wall. "The really important information is likely to be in there—if we can just figure out where to look for it. Now, let us think, Major, milady—who, besides you two, might have reason to want a Wolman dead?"
"Well, we don't have any reason to," Rod snorted. "But the obvious answer is VETO… or SPITE."
"Or both of them," Yorick grunted.
"Futurians of some kind. They tried to assassinate Gwen and me and, when we turned out to be a little too lethal, kidnapped us back in time as a second choice."
"Not too bad, either. I mean, without help, your chances of getting back to the future are very slender."
"Nay! Rather, we would surely have returned, sooner or later, to the year from which we left," Gwen objected. " 'Tis simply that, when we did, we'd have been five hundred years dead…"
"That is a problem, I think you'll admit. There's a definite limit on how much fun you can have in that condition. But it does bring up the question of why they sent you to this particular here and now."
"Wolmar." Rod frowned. "Right after the PEST coup d'etat." His eyes lost focus as he gazed off into space. "Nice question…"
"And, sin that thou didst ask it, I doubt me not an thou hast an answer."
Yorick glanced sideways at Gwen. "Where'd you get her, Major?"
"Just lucky, I guess… What was your answer?"
"To make it easy to try another assassination attempt." Yorick grinned. "The early PEST years are ideal for the purpose. The interstellar totalitarian government is brand-new, at its brightest strength, with plenty of agents left over from its coup, but not yet tied down to the central planets as secret police."
Rod nodded, feeling numbed. "Yeah… that does kinda stack the odds in their favor… But why one of the frontier planets? Why not Terra?"
"Too hard to cover up a murder attempt." Yorick shook his head. "Too many people."
"Yeah, but would they really care?"
"There is that," Yorick said judiciously. "But a much more practical point is that, with all those people to hide among, it'd be too easy for you to get away. And they know the two of you well enough to realize that you could be very hard to hold on to."