Mr. Kemper said, "Look at them. They laugh at the birds, they laugh
at the monkeys; I have even seen some of them laughing at the lions."
He scanned the people at the bars, the sweaty men with crooked noses,
sagging bellies, bald heads and hairy arms. There were women in shorts,
gray women whose legs pillared up to fearsome, rolling buttocks; girls
with smeared mouths and rough-shaven legs and sandals strapped across
their fat, wiggling toes. "The females are unbelievable," Kemper said,
"but you should see the children."
He finished his hot dog and wiped his hands on his handkerchief. "Well,
Ulbasar, where are the others?"
"Others? There are no others. I came alone."
Kemper, his eyes on the people at the cage, slowly folded his
handkerchief. Without warning he flung the full force of his mind-probe
at the man beside him. Ulbasar staggered and lurched to his left,
throwing out a desperate block that was contemptuously brushed aside.
Kemper reached out, gripped his arm, then eased the power of the probe.
"Don't lie to me," he said softly. "It will take more than one of you
to force me to go back; you know that. Now, where are the others?"
"Only one other," said Ulbasar, shaking his head. "Lord Gteris. He's on
his way. None of the rest were close enough to contact."
"That's better. So they sent Gteris, eh? It's been a long time since
Gteris and I hunted together, a very long time." He looked up as the
condor on the highest perch spread its wings and cocked its head toward
the wire mesh roof of the cage.
Words burbled from Ulbasar, who still looked shaken. "The Nobles
demanded that Lord Gteris come. The Science Council insisted that only
our men handle it, and they're considerably agitated. There's been
open conflict between Nobles and Scientists at the Sessions, and the
tribunal is worried. They want you returned, and they want you returned
quickly."
"Politics, always politics," said Kemper, letting loose his grip on
Ulbasar's arm.
"The Scientists are putting a lot of pressure on the tribunal. They
feel there's danger to us each moment you spend here in the future.
They're worried about the time-pattern."
"That's ridiculous. How can a man from the past affect the future?
Besides, it isn't our future; it belongs to the ape-people."
"I know, but that makes no difference."
"I've been to their libraries. There are no records of us, unless you
count some foolish legends of continents sinking in the sea." He looked
at a man a few feet away who was throwing popcorn at a gull. A piece
of popcorn bounced off the gull's head, and the man laughed. People
standing nearby laughed too, and the man pitched more popcorn. Sighing,
Kemper looked at his wrist watch. "When is he coming?"
"I don't know, precisely, and that's the truth."
Kemper thought about it. It would take a while. After Gteris arrived
there would be important details to occupy him, such as assimilating
the manners and mores of this era and getting proper clothing. He said,
"When he comes you'll have no trouble finding me. I won't leave the
grounds; I give my word."
"The word of a renegade and a fugitive?" Ulbasar was himself again.
"The word of a Noble," said Kemper, turning away from him coldly.
"One thing more, Lord Kjem," Ulbasar said. "The time rift. We have
orders to go back with you along the rift you used, making certain that
you seal it behind us. Is it close by?"
"That I will tell you when I have to," said Kemper, turning completely
around this time and walking away.
* * * * *
Ulbasar would keep close watch on him, he knew, until Gteris came. That
they intended to make him close his time rift made sense; the rift was
dangerous to the over-all pattern. When he had left hastily he had
forced his way through time with his mind-matrix, knowing that pursuit
would have been swift if he had taken one of the normal time paths.
The rift he had made was obvious, but would respond to no one but him.
Others could accompany him through it, however, as he led the way.
Gteris and Ulbasar could go with him and, controlling his mind, make
him close the rift behind him.
So he walked briskly, knowing he had much to do in an uncertain amount
of time. The sun was higher, pale in the glazed sky. Disheveled,
harassed-looking people passed him, sweat stains dark on their clothes,
and with them were fretful children. Mr. Kemper walked, and the people
went by him, on their way to laugh at the monkeys, throw stones at the
bears, and call "Kitty, kitty, kitty" to the leopards.
At a stand opposite the polar bears, near the north wing of the central
building, he stopped to get a cup of coffee, but there was none for
sale, so instead he bought a paper cup full of a green drink. He sipped
it, watching a big white bear loafing in the pool. A little to one
side of him a young man was arguing with a boy who wanted cotton candy.
From below them, and to their right, came a low rumbling. "What's
that, Daddy?" said the boy. "It's only the lions roaring," his father
answered.
"They're not roaring, actually," said Mr. Kemper. "They're grunting,
and clearing their throats."
The boy looked at Mr. Kemper with interest, but his father frowned. "It
sounds like roaring to me," he said.
Mr. Kemper smiled at the boy. "Oh no. If the lions were roaring you
could hear nothing else. It's a sound you never forget, a sound that
rips the wind and shakes the trees with thunder."
"I could forget it, Mac," said the counterman, leaning on his elbows
and winking at the boy's father.
"I want to hear the lions roar," the boy said.
"For Pete's sake, what do you want? Make up your mind; do you want
lions or cotton candy?" The boy's father looked exasperated.
"If you go to the lion cage at three o'clock today you'll hear them
roar," Mr. Kemper said.
Shortly after that the young man dragged away his little boy, who was
still insisting he wanted to hear the lions roar. Eventually, everyone
who talked with Mr. Kemper went away rather suddenly. Mr. Kemper,
unabashed, drank from his paper cup and thought about the ravages of
time.
A woman and a man came around the corner of the building that faced the
polar bears. The woman was red-faced, her voice a thin rasping. "All
you want to do is watch those damn chips. You'd watch those chips all
day if I didn't drag you away from there. Chips, chips, I'm sick of
chips."
"Chimps," said Mr. Kemper as they went by. "Chimps, not chips. Chimps,
lady, with an 'm' in it."
The counterman, moving toward him, wiped the counter with a soggy rag
and said, "Listen, Mac, what's all this with the lions?"