Barrington Bayley SF Gateway Omnibus: The Soul of the Robot, The Knights of the Limits, The Fall of Chronopolis

Across the street a group of three men, flashily dressed in shirts and breeks of coloured silk, appeared to be eyeing the newcomers speculatively. Presently they crossed the street a little way ahead of the two and stood chatting together with studied indifference. As Cree and Jasperodus drew abreast one of them called out suddenly and presented himself, shaking Cree’s hand warmly while looking him confidently in the eye. ‘I can see you are a recent arrival in our town, citizen. Perhaps I can be of some assistance?’

Cree frowned. ‘How do you know me for a stranger?’ he demanded, taken aback.

The other laughed lightly. ‘You and your construct both have the dust of travel on you, sir. Besides, the main road from the west leads directly through here. Many migrants from that quarter land up precisely on the spot where you are now standing. Allow me to explain myself. I make it my business to direct and advise newcomers regarding accommodation and employment, whereupon I receive a small commission from certain lodging houses and business enterprises. If you seek a comfortable night’s rest and good wholesome food at moderate charge, may I recommend the Blue Boar, which you will find along that street yonder and third turning to the left. As to work, have you any immediate prospects? What are your skills?’

‘I had not expected to install myself with such facility,’ Cree remarked dubiously. The other laughed again and continued with his jovial chatter, mentioning nothing that would seem to suggest an ulterior motive, or any disadvantage to Inwing. While they talked thus, he and one of his companions were shifting casually about from foot to foot, until, inadvertently so it seemed, Cree was manoeuvred into presenting his back to Jasperodus.

Suddenly Jasperodus’ eye was caught by the third member of the group, who to his surprise was beckoning him urgently from within the cover of a nearby narrow alley. Unthinkingly he stepped towards the fellow, into the opening and away from the others.

The stranger laid a proprietary hand on his arm and spoke in a commanding hiss. ‘Follow me directly, robot, and be quick about it – quietly, now.’

The man turned and padded rapidly off down the passage, plainly expecting Jasperodus to obey. In a trice Jasperodus had caught up with him, to seize him by the shoulder and jerk him round roughly. He thrust a fist close to his pinched face.

‘The next time you try to take me from my owner, your skull will encounter this.’

The robot-stealer gaped thunderstruck at his intended victim, wide-eyed with alarm. Immediately Jasperodus released him he galloped frantically up the alley and disappeared from sight. Jasperodus returned to where Cree, all unawares, was still being engaged in genial conversation.

‘Cree!’ he warned in a loud voice. ‘These men are thieves!’

The response from all parties to his words was startlement and consternation. The shysters decamped in great haste, leaving Cree standing perplexed.

He rubbed his nose ruefully when Jasperodus described how the thieves were able to commandeer a robot by removing it momentarily from its master’s attention. ‘Afterwards it would be hard to find grounds for complaint against them,’ he explained. ‘You were careless; your robot wandered off. What is that to do with them? Most constructs would be susceptible to such a technique – it can be likened to stealing a horse. Presumably there is a market for purloined robots hereabouts, but doubtless the natives are not so easily manipulated.’

‘And I am instantly recognisable as a country bumpkin!’ Cree exclaimed in dismay. He looked down at himself thoughtfully. ‘It’s the cut of my garments that gives me away. One of the first things might be to obtain clothes in the prevalent fashion, and cut from the local cloth. But time for that later. I am in need of refreshment.’

He moved towards a nearby tavern. At the entrance was a dispenser selling some kind of printed journal. Cree examined it with interest, made a small sound of approval, and placed a coin in the slot. The delivery chute ejected a folded copy.

Within, the tavern had a rough-hewn air, which was the reason why Cree had chosen it. After a brief word with the landlord he obtained permission for Jasperodus to sit with him, and purchased a mug of sour red wine, which he swallowed with evident satisfaction and then bought another. Much cheered by the beverage, he began a perusal of the journal.

Jasperodus meanwhile sat in silence. Their wanderings together had frequently been interspersed with Cree’s practice of reviving himself with alcohol, and such halts in their progress were now familiar to the robot. Though secretly a trifle sullen that he too could not partake of the experience, he had grown patient with the habit, looking upon it as part of their working arrangement.