Polly returned to her exchange with Nandru. ‘Can you control my upgrading? Can you… teach me things?’
Not at present. The Muse element of myself follows a program originally designed to supply necessary information during battle. It operates mainly when you are under stress, and opens sections of its library to certain connections in your brain only when specific types and quantities of neurochemicals are present. Believe me, it’s complicated enough in here—I don’t want to interfere recklessly and end up lobotomizing you.
The smell of burning pine wood and burning flesh became stronger now. Perversely, the aromas caused her further pangs of hunger. The pyres were burning low and the legionaries beginning to march back to their tented city beyond. But a grey-haired old man wearing elaborately chased armour awaited Polly and her escort. This personage was obviously someone most important, for a gilded litter with bearers in attendance awaited his pleasure, and a cohort of men in splendid armour stood by. As they drew closer, the mounted commander hissed warningly to Scarface.
Well, you certainly seem to be receiving the grand tour.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
The old fellow waiting there is the Emperor Claudius no less. I’d advise you to take your cue from others in showing due signs of respect. The Romans weren’t exactly distinguished for their record on human rights.
Finally they reached the Emperor’s presence and, though bows and salutes were exchanged, she noticed there was no outright grovelling. Polly remained standing meekly where she was while the commander dismounted and explained the situation with numerous gestures and puzzled frowns. At an imperial signal, two of the Emperor’s personal guard approached her. Both possessed a polished Teutonic look: one of them as slim as a whippet, while the other appeared capable of crushing walnuts with his eyelids. They had no reservations about laying hands on her and half carried her before their master to thrust her down on her knees before him.
‘All right, no need to get tetchy!’ she protested.
Walnut eyes seemed about to strike her, but desisted when Claudius raised a finger. He then crooked the same finger at her.
‘Surge.’
‘What did he say?’
I think you can stand up now without getting thumped.
Polly stood and waited in silence. The guards stepped back a little way as the Emperor folded his hands behind his back and limped one circuit around her. Stopping in front of her again, he reached out and felt the fabric of her greatcoat, touched each of its brass buttons in turn, then stared at her boots. After a moment he gave voice to some drawn-out utterance, stammering his words, and smearing his chin with spittle.
‘What was that?’
I’m not entirely sure. Translation is difficult enough for me with clearly spoken Latin. I think he wants you to take off your coat, but maybe it would be better if you pretended not to understand too much.
She addressed the Emperor, ‘Sorry, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. You see, I’m a time traveller, and your language died out quite some time before I was born. I’d like to oblige you, but no way are you getting your mits on my gun.’
The Emperor tilted his head, listening to her closely and frowning in puzzlement as he wiped the spittle from his chin. In a circular gesture he indicated her coat, then putting his hands together, parted them and moved them each to one side, clearly indicating that she should remove it. Polly considered pretending further that she didn’t understand, but walnut crusher was staring at her with alarming hostility. She slowly undid the buttons then opened wide her coat. The Emperor’s puzzlement increased when he saw what she wore underneath. He again made that removing gesture. When she did nothing, he flashed irritation and pointed at her hip bag.
‘I guess I’m going to have to act now before they strip me of everything. You said they might be thinking I’m touched by the gods?’
Be very careful, Polly. I would hate to lose you now—what with all you mean to me.
Polly grinned at the Emperor, pointed up to the sky, then held out her hands in some strange gesture of welcome. She then reached into her hip bag, removed the taser, turned quickly to one side and fired at the walnut crusher. The result couldn’t have been any more spectacular. He went up on his toes, with small lightning flashes zipping around his inlaid breastplate, then down flat on his back like a falling log. Weapons were drawn all around, the soldiers shouting and moving in. The whippet had his sword poised to stab her, and looked terrified. Calmly putting the taser back in her bag, Polly surveyed them all in her most queenly manner, then returned her attention to Claudius, going down on one knee before him and bowing her head.
Oh, fucking wonderful, and there I was thinking you were getting brighter.
The uproar all around continued, as Polly waited for the sword stroke that would take off her head, and almost not caring. When it died down, she glanced up to see the Emperor had raised his hand again. As he addressed his men, it was evident some of them found him incomprehensible, so badly was he stammering. When he gestured Polly to rise, she did so quickly.
‘Can you tell me how to say, “He is alive”?’ she subvocalized.
Try ‘Vivit.’
Polly gestured to the prostrate soldier, and repeated Nandru’s words. Claudius, his expression frightened, spat an order and swords were immediately sheathed.
‘That seemed to work,’ said Polly cheerfully.
Well, they haven’t nailed you to a tree yet, so that’s a plus.
The soldiers loaded walnut crusher onto the litter, and he was rapidly born back to the encampment. Polly followed on foot beside the limping Emperor.
Tack was foolishly pleased to be given the honour of addressing Traveller by his true name, though Saphothere was a mouthful to someone from an age when appellations of more than two syllables were considered excessive.
‘Saphothere.’ He tried it out. ‘What was that weapon you used on their fence?’ he asked, staring into the darkness outside the cave mouth.
Saphothere turned on some kind of palm torch to illuminate the interior beyond. ‘Molecular catalyser. The palisade was constructed of a steel composite and ceramoplastic. The catalyser caused them to react with each other: the iron in the steel combined with the oxygen in the organic molecules of the plastic, turning the fence into a powder consisting mainly of iron oxide and carbon.’ He glanced at Tack. ‘Understand, Tack, I have given you permission to use my name, but you will also use my title. The correct form of address is “Traveller Saphothere”. Your actions at the Umbrathane stronghold were admirable, but they do not entitle you to over familiarity.’
Tack grimaced as he followed Saphothere deeper inside. Studying the cave floor, he spotted broken bones and the skull of some bovid that had been crushed by the large teeth of a predator, and was grateful that Traveller had retrieved and returned his seeker gun.
‘What period are we in now… Traveller Saphothere?’
Saphothere looked at him askance, perhaps regretting the leeway he had granted. ‘It’s the Palaeocene—sixty-three million years in your past. There are not so many large animals around just now, as an extinction event occurred not long ago in evolutionary terms.’ The man then noticed the direction of Tack’s attention and added, ‘Some carnivorous dinosaurs did survive, but they will not survive the coming competition with the mammals.’ At that moment Saphothere’s torch revealed something that—like Pig City—did not belong here: a steel door.