“Don’t say it that way,” she said, miserable. “It will all work out.”
I think she’s actually going to miss you, Artie said, surprised.
“Shut up,” Martin said, in silent, to Artie. He turned his attention to Ianna.
“I’ll remember you,” he said.
Liar, Artie said, tiredly, in silent. Then he relented. Well, maybe. I’ll help with that. As long as I can.
Ianna hesitated, then took the arrowhead and tucked it carefully away in her pocket. She leaned forward, kissed Martin, and stepped back, to the edge of the canopy shade, and turned to face Tiamat.
“If he’s hurt, Qart-hadast will not be pleased.”
“You speak for all of Qart-hadast?” Tiamat asked with mild disinterest.
“I have connections!”
“I’m sure you do,” Tiamat said dismissively.
Ianna started to walk away but stopped, her back to Martin and Tiamat. She began to turn back toward them.
“Your uncertainty just increased,” Tiamat called out to her. “I suggest you keep moving.”
Ianna shook her head and walked down the hill.
She’s crying, Artie said.
And Ianna was gone.
“There will be a man named Tom Cahill,” Martin said in silent mode to Artie. “He’s going to say that a journey is measured in friends.”
Then we’ve come a long way, Artie said. And we’ve got one hell of a long way to go.
Martin nodded. He turned his attention to Tiamat.
“Come in, get out of the sun. You don’t look so good,” Martin said. He stepped back to give Tiamat room. She ducked her head under the canopy and sat opposite him.
“Water?” he asked and held up a small leather water skin. Tiamat nodded and took a drink. She handed the flask back.
“Ianna is a meaningless little fool. But she likes you,” Tiamat said, tiredly. It sounded like an accusation but it came out as a simple statement. Martin decided this was not the time to be offended.
“So what does that make me?”
“A mystery,” Tiamat said. She smiled for the first time.
“And you hate mysteries?”
“And I hate mysteries.”
“So. What do you want to know?” Martin asked.
Tiamat spoke to Martin but her eyes ignored him. She concentrated on everything else in the shelter. Martin knew she was taking an inventory and comparing it to what the archeologists had found in the area around Gobekli Tepe, thousands of years in the future.
“Take your time,” he said, calmly. “No rush. This place is clean, and so am I. No metals. No plastic. Nothing but stone and wood and bone and leather. Everything organic will decay. The stone is authentic, from right around here, and the chips will join all the rest of the garbage when the People bury the temple.”
Tiamat ignored him.
She doesn’t trust you, Artie said. I can feel her. She’s using her eyes but she’s also scanning the area to see if it matches the historical records.
“Trust, but verify,” Martin said in silent mode.
I don’t know the reference, Artie said, apologetically.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Martin said. “No one will yet.”
Tiamat relaxed and turned her attention to Martin.
“You’re clean,” she said, reluctantly. “No violations.”
“I’m careful,” Martin said. Tiamat nodded.
“Now,” she said. Martin heard the bureaucrat in her voice. He imagined her sitting back in an office chair in an uptime cubicle, her datapad in her lap.
“Project name?”
“You won’t find any reference to it,” Martin warned. “It’s a dark project and it’s buried.”
“Try me anyway. I can be very persuasive.”
“Stone Eagle.”
“Really?” she asked, skeptical. He pointed to the meter square limestone slab propped up against the outside of the hut. It showed a stylized engraving of a bird, claws outstretched.
“Not as sharp as a holo, but that might be a violation, don’t you think?” Martin asked, sardonically.
“Do it yourself?”
“A friend did it,” Martin said evasively. “I put it up outside my shelter, wherever I go. Lets people know I’m at home.”
“Speaking of home,” Tiamat asked. “What’s your homeline?”
“Qart-hadast is my capital,” Martin lied. “Long ago and far away from here.”
Tiamat frowned.
Stop being a smart ass! Artie scolded. I know you’ve dealt with police before. She might not be in uniform but I suggest you start thinking of her that way.
Martin ignored him. He smiled back at Tiamat.
“Now it’s my turn,” Martin said. “You ever run into any leakers? From other timelines?”
“A few,” Tiamat admitted. “A very few. And the timelines are not very different. Their home timeline might be one where Qart-hadast was destroyed by an earthquake or a fire. Usually the capital just moves west, to Gades, but civilization stays the same. They never seem to be able to go home. We help them.”
“Kehin help? I’ve heard of it,” Martin said drily. “Think I’ll take care of myself, thank you.”
“My turn,” Tiamat said. “You work for the Chayil?”
“Classified.”
She made a note.
“And you’re back here for…?”
“Beer.”
“Really.” Tiamat did not sound impressed. She sounded skeptical. “Beer?”
“Beer,” Martin said promptly. He knew his cover story was solid. He gestured at the stone vessels, the grain, the empty fruit and honey bowls.
“Explain.”
“People like to drink beer,” Martin said. He spread his hands wide. “Gives me a good excuse to be up and moving around, to explore and talk with different people and different tribes. It’s as simple as that.”
“You’re looking for something.”
“Classified.”
“What’s this got to do,” Tiamat waved her hand at the outside, at the camp and then down the path and up the hill, toward the temple several miles away, “with Gobekli Tepe?”
Martin smiled.
“Classified.”
Tiamat frowned.
Got her, Artie said. Blood pressure up, temperature up, heartbeat up. You’ve got her irritated.
Tiamat stood.
“You need to go back up-time. Your uncertainty factor is going up,” she said sharply.
So much for your inimitable charm.
“I have never seen a causality detector like yours,” Martin said, casually.
Tiamat smiled down at him.
“Classified.”
Martin laughed. He leaned back.
“I think I might stay around for a while.”
“Not safe. You need to get the hell out of here.”
Liar, Artie said. She didn’t get a damned thing off you. She just wants you gone.
“I have some things I need to finish,” Martin said.
“And those things are…?”
“Classified.”
“Of course,” Tiamat said. She turned to leave. “Just remember, if you stay here, you may just be… gone.”
“Classified. And I can take care of myself.”
“Go to hell!” Tiamat snapped. She ducked under the canopy and stormed down the hill away from Martin. He waited until she was just far enough away, then went to low power mode.
“Do you have a lock on her?”
I can follow her wherever she goes, Artie reassured him.
“Good. What about her causality detector?”
I can use it.
“Scan her.”
Silence. Martin idly watched a little girl across the way. She was dressed in a gazelle skin and held a black and white puppy. The girl and the dog squatted in the dirt, both of their heads cocked to the side, intently studying a baby in a reed basket. A young woman, probably the mother to all of them, sat nearby and worked on rolling blades of prairie grass together to make string. She looked up, saw the girl and the dog, smiled, and gently rocked the basket.