"Be at the lion cage at three o'clock. You'll never have a chance like
this again, believe me."
"Sure, sure, but shots of what, friend?"
So Mr. Kemper bent his head and whispered to him, and as he did he saw
the gleam start deep in Al's eyes and swell to the pale surfaces. But
Al's eyes didn't gleam the way his wife's did. And after a while Mr.
Kemper left them, and the cage that was silent except for the slow
creaking of the trapeze.
After looking at his watch Mr. Kemper walked faster. The sun dropped in
the sticky sky and there was only a faint wind. And for the next hour
or so Mr. Kemper was here, there and everywhere. If there was a bunch
of little boys shouting at the rhinoceros, then Mr. Kemper was there,
smiling and nodding. When a party of college students stood making
dirty jokes about the baboons, there too was Mr. Kemper, eventually
saying something that made everyone stare at him.
He was ubiquitous. He was with the people who craned their necks at
the giraffes, and the ones who laughed at the sleek sea lions darting
in their narrow troughs. He was with a family watching the anacondas
drooping in green cubicles; he was at the bison corral; he saw the
crocodile, the yak and the blesbok. And always, wherever he was, he had
a few words to say about the lions. And time passed.
* * * * *
It was exactly three o'clock when he stood again at the top of the
stairway above the lion court. A lot of people were milling and shoving
in front of the cages, a noisy crowd that made the lions nervous. They
were awake now, pacing their cells, and the leopards were awake, and
the jaguars. In the center cage the streak-maned lion put his head to
the floor and coughed. Behind him the lioness waited, tense. The lion
curved a paw around one of the bars and some of the people clapped
their hands. Others whistled; several looked at their watches. Kemper,
who was starting to smile again, watched the crowd. There was Al, his
camera, and his wife, close to the center cage. The two teen-aged boys
were near them. The little boy and his father were there, and many
others that Mr. Kemper was glad to see. Hands clasped behind him, he
stood looking down on them. Suddenly he felt powerful bonds clamp onto
his mind.
Turning slowly around he saw Ulbasar walking down the hill toward him,
a tall man at his side. They stopped in front of him, their faces
dark in the sun. "Here he is," said Ulbasar. The tall man at his left
made the greeting sign of one Noble to another. "Lord Kjem," he said.
Returning the sign, Mr. Kemper said, "Lord Gteris."
Gteris said, "I hate to do this; you know that. We were friends once. I
hope you won't try to resist."
"I told Ulbasar I wouldn't. Together you're considerably stronger than
I am. I'd be a fool to try anything."
"That's smart of you," said Gteris. "Now let's get to business. Ulbasar
says you wouldn't tell him the location of your time rift. Is this
true?"
"Certainly. Does a Noble answer to a Scientist? But of course I'll tell
you, Gteris. The time rift is down there, behind the hedge opposite the
lion cage."
All signs of friendliness left Gteris's face. He spun and gave orders.
"Ulbasar, you heard him. Go down there and see if he's telling the
truth. I'll stand guard over him. And keep the mind-block tight."
Ulbasar nodded, and went down the steps. Mr. Kemper tested the
vise that pressed against his mind; it held much too well. Gteris
was looking at him reproachfully. "Really, Kjem, yours is conduct
unbecoming a Noble. If you had to murder somebody why did it have
to be a Scientist? And then all this forcing your own rift into the
time-pattern. The Nobles are unhappy with you, Kjem."
"You know, I don't regret any of it," said Mr. Kemper, watching Ulbasar
moving close to the crowd by the cages. "Tell me, how's the hunting
back home?"
"Not too bad; I got some fine hawks a while back. I still wish I could
handle cats the way you do, instead of--what's wrong with that crowd in
front of the cage down there?"