Hunter had stopped struggling in order to conserve his energy. He did not know how much strength he would need to free himself. Also, no matter what actions he took, he could not replenish his energy supply until the sun reappeared.
Someone had thrown a cloth bag over his head. It smelled strongly of hay, overwhelming his olfactory sense. Now only his hearing and sense of touch brought him information.
The same seven humans still stood around him, talking excitedly. At this point, only two were actually holding him, one on each arm. Of course, if he pulled free, the others would immediately jump on him again.
The voices around him had been talking for some time, arguing about what to do with him. Most of their chatter had been indecisive and unimportant. However, Hunter noticed that all of them repeatedly referred to him as a “spirit.”
Hunter searched his knowledge for the significance of this. At first he thought it might be a colloquial reference to him as a foreigner. He knew that many years later, in the nineteenth century, a Chinese nickname for Europeans and white Americans was “foreign devils.”
“We must decide what to do,” one man said clearly. He spoke with some authority. “Otherwise, we may argue here in the woods all night.”
“Our choices are three,” said another man. “One, tie him up in the forest and leave him. Two, remain here and keep watch over him all night. Three, offer him sacrifices of food and wine and give him our respect.”
No one laughed. Hunter realized that these were serious choices, not jokes. They really believed he was a spirit of some kind.
“We must chain him while we speak,” said someone else. “Away from the road.”
The two men holding Hunter’s arms pulled him forward. He followed, stepping carefully on the uneven ground to find his footing. His escorts were slower than he was, but they made some effort to guide him, he supposed to avoid tree branches and large rocks.
After a walk of no more than about ten meters, he was stopped and backed up against a tree trunk. He heard the clink of metal and then felt chains pulling him fast against the tree. While his captors muttered to themselves about the exact placement of the chains, he called his team again.
All three of them responded with drowsy voices, at first talking at the same time. No matter which rooms they were in, they all had their lapel pins turned on.
“I have a question for Marcia specifically,” said Hunter. “My captors refer to me among themselves as a spirit. However, I cannot reconcile some apparent contradictions. They cannot decide whether to leave me chained to a tree or to make sacrifices to me. The former seems hostile, the latter respectful. Is this choice normal?”
“I can’t tell yet,” said Marcia. She cleared her throat, yawned, and then spoke with more certainty. “Um, this is related to their local folk religion. It evolves constantly and varies from one geographical location to another, sometimes even between neighboring provinces or villages.”
“Oh, wonderful,” muttered Steve. “So it’s impossible to know what they’re thinking at all.”
“Let her go on,” said Jane.
“It’s not totally impossible,” said Marcia. “Hunter, what robotic abilities did you exhibit to them? They must have some reason to believe you’re not human.”
“None.” Hunter quickly reviewed all his actions from the time he and the team had first arrived at the inn. “I am certain that I have revealed no abilities to this particular group that are not human.”
“Well…that won’t help us, then. Maybe you resemble a spirit in some folk tale.”
“Hold it,” said Steve. “You mean, like if someone fit the role of Cinderella?”
“Or King Arthur or Paul Bunyan,” said Marcia. “Hunter, from what you’ve said, they may consider you a good spirit who is misguided or out of control.”
“In what respect?”
“Maybe they believe you have been sent here to do something specific that they don’t like.”
“Yes? What does this mean?”
“Well, this would explain that they want to stop you from fulfilling your instructions from the spirit world-whatever they think those are-but they still want to remain on your good side.”
“I understand,” said Hunter. “This is consistent with their behavior.”
“I have to ask you something, Hunter,” said Jane. “Is the Third Law likely to become an imperative soon? That is, are you in danger-or do you expect to be?”
“No,” said Hunter. “If the situation changes and the / Third Law forces me to escape, I must do it alone without endangering the team.”
“Can you reach the belt unit?” Jane asked. “If so, you could return to our time, then come back to this time in another location.”
Hunter shifted slightly, testing the chain that held him. “I cannot reach the belt unit without freeing myself. The chain holding me has small links, but I do not know if I can break it or not.”
“Your captors haven’t taken the belt unit?” Jane asked. “Didn’t they wonder what it was?”
“They did not search me,” said Hunter.
“That’s further evidence that they hold you in some awe,” said Marcia.
“What’s our current plan?” Steve asked. “What do you want to do?”
“I repeat, do not come to rescue me. I ask that you three get a good night’s sleep so that we can be ready to face any unexpected situations tomorrow.”
“All right,” said Steve. “I haven’t slept too well so far, but you’re right.”
“Okay,” said Jane.
“Do you have a plan?” Marcia asked anxiously. “Do you know what we’ll do?”
Hunter surmised that she was scared because of his absence. “I am convinced that you are not in danger. Otherwise, I would have to make every effort to free myself. Please get a sound sleep.”
“All right,” Marcia said reluctantly. “It won’t be hard. I’m exhausted after all that riding.”
Jane lay back down on her bed in the darkness. She felt her advice in support of Hunter had been justified, but she also worried about him more than she had let on to the others. Marcia was scared because Hunter was not here to protect them, which Jane understood. Steve just wanted to get on with the mission. However, Jane could not stop worrying that Hunter would enter a contradiction between multiple First Law imperatives and be unable to function.
Within a few minutes, Marcia’s nervous, uneven breathing became smooth and rhythmic with sleep. Apparently the day on horseback really had worn her out. Jane tried to relax, but she was simply too tense. She lay on her bed, wondering if she had made a mistake in arguing that the team take Hunter’s advice.
She had no way to measure the passing of time as she lay awake. However, she remained fitfully awake when a sharp knocking on the main door downstairs startled her. Wondering if Hunter had returned on his own, she listened as the knocking was repeated. Finally, she heard a single pair of footsteps walk across the floor to open the inn door.
More than a few people entered, judging by the number of footsteps. She could not distinguish exactly how many, however. As she heard some quiet voices, too muffled to understand, she realized that these were probably the people who had ambushed Hunter.
All of them remained downstairs. She could hear chairs scraping on the floor, probably as they sat down by the fire again. They probably wanted to warm up after their hike outside.