His luck had been incredibly bad. Wherever he had chanced across a human being, that person had been just leaving the vicinity. And he had found no centers of population.
Once he had noticed an unnatural stone outcropping high on a hill. No law of geology known to Svetz could have produced such an angular, flat-sided monstrosity. Curious, he had circled above it—and had abruptly realized that the thing was hollow, riddled with rectangular holes.
A dwelling for men? He didn’t want to believe it. Living within the hollows of such a thing would be like living underground. But men tend to build at right angles, and this thing was all right angles.
Below the hollowed stone structure were rounded, hairy-looking hummocks of dried grass, each with a man-sized door. Obviously they must be nests for very large insects. Svetz had left that place quickly.
The road rounded a swelling green hill ahead of him. Svetz followed, slowing.
A hilltop spring sent a stream bubbling downhill to break the road. Something large was drinking at the stream.
Svetz jerked to a stop in midair. Open water: deadly poison. He would have been hard put to say which had startled him more: the horse, or the fact that it had just committed suicide.
The horse looked up and saw him.
It was the same horse. White as milk, with a flowing abundance of snowy mane and tail, it almost had to be the horse that had laughed at Svetz and run. Svetz recognized the malignance in its eyes, in the moment before it turned its back.
But how could it have arrived so fast?
Svetz was reaching for the gun when the situation turned upside down.
The girl was young, surely no more than sixteen. Her hair was long and dark and plaited in complex fashion. Her dress, of strangely stiff blue fabric, reached from her neck to her ankles. She was seated in the shadow of a tree, on dark cloth spread over the dark earth. Svetz had not noticed her, might never have noticed her…
But the horse walked up to her, folded its legs in alternate pairs, and laid its ferocious head in her lap.
The girl had not yet seen Svetz.
The horse obviously belonged to the girl. He could not simply shoot it and take it. It would have to be purchased…somehow.
He needed time to think! And there was no time, for the girl might look up at any moment. Baleful brown eyes watched him as he dithered…
He dared waste no more time searching the countryside for a wild horse. There was an uncertainty, a Finagle factor in the math of time travel. It manifested itself as an uncertainty in the energy of a returning extension cage, and it increased with time. Let Svetz linger too long, and he could be roasted alive in the returning cage.
Moreover, the horse had drunk open water. It would die, and soon, unless Svetz could return it to 1100 PostAtomic. Thus the beast’s removal from this time could not change the history of Svetz’s own world. It was a good choice…if he could conquer his fear of the beast.
The horse was tame. Young and slight as she was, the girl had no trouble controlling it. What was there to fear?
But there was its natural weaponry…of which Ra Chen’s treacherous picture book had shown no sign. Svetz surmised that later generations routinely removed it before the animals were old enough to be dangerous. He should have come a few centuries later…
And there was the look in its eye. The horse hated Svetz, and it knew Svetz was afraid.
Could he shoot it from ambush?
No. The girl would worry if her pet collapsed without reason. She would be unable to concentrate on what Svetz was trying to tell her.
He would have to work with the animal watching him. If the girl couldn’t control it—or if he lost her trust—Svetz had little doubt that the horse would kill him.
The horse looked up as Svetz approached, but made no other move. The girl watched too, her eyes round with wonder. She called something that must have been a question.
Svetz smiled back and continued his approach. He was a foot above the ground, and gliding at dead slow. Riding the world’s only flying machine, he looked impressive as all hell, and knew it.
The girl did not smile back. She watched warily. Svetz was within yards of her when she scrambled to her feet.
He stopped the flight stick at once and let it settle. Smiling placatorially, he removed the heat-and-pressure device from his sash. He moved with care. The girl was on the verge of running.
The trade kit was a pouch of corundum, AIO, several phials of additives, and the heat-and-pressure gadget. Svetz poured corundum into the chamber, added a dash of chromic oxide, and used the plunger. The cylinder grew warm. Presently Svetz dropped a pigeon’s-blood star ruby into his hand, rolled it in his fingers, held it to the sun. It was red as dark blood, with a blazing white six-pointed star.
It was almost too hot to hold.
Stupid! Svetz held his smile rigid. Ra Chen should have warned him! What would she think when she felt the gem’s unnatural heat? What trickery would she suspect?
But he had to chance it. The trade kit was all he had.
He bent and rolled the gem to her across the damp ground.
She stooped to pick it up. One hand remained on the horse’s neck, calming it. Svetz noticed the rings of yellow metal around her wrist; and he also noticed the dirt.
She held the gem high, looked into its deep red fire.
“Ooooh,” she breathed. She smiled at Svetz in wonder and delight. Svetz smiled back, moved two steps nearer, and rolled her a yellow sapphire.
How had he twice chanced on the same horse? Svetz never knew. But he soon knew how it had arrived before him….
He had given the girl three gems. He held three more in his hand while he beckoned her onto the flight stick. She shook her head; she would not go. Instead she mounted the animal.
She and the horse, they watched Svetz for his next move.
Svetz capitulated. He had expected the horse to follow the girl while the girl rode behind him on the flight stick. But if they both followed Svetz it would be the same.
The horse stayed to one side and a little behind Svetz’s flight stick. It did not seem inconvenienced by the girl’s weight. Why should it be? It must have been bred for the task. Svetz notched his speed higher, to find how fast he could conveniently move.
Faster he flew, and faster. The horse must have a limit…. He was up to eighty before he quit. The girl lay flat along the animal’s back, hugging its neck to protect her face from the wind. But the horse ran on, daring Svetz with its eyes.
How to describe such motion? Svetz had never seen ballet. He knew how machinery moved, and this wasn’t it. All he could think of was a man and a woman making love. Slippery-smooth rhythmic motion, absolute single-minded purpose, motion for the pleasure of motion. It was terrible in its beauty, the flight of the horse.