It was ludicrous. Loyalty to something not yet dreamed?

But there was Neulist.

Fiala understood Neulist.

If the colonel had come back, he would haunt them. He had the soul of a demented terrier. He never let go. And, should he locate them, he might wound the future far more in achieving his sick satisfaction than ever they could by shifting three supremely unimportant peasants out of Europe.

Fial had argued for Brazil. Armies, even nations, could vanish into that vast South American wilderness.

But that nation would not be tamed, really, till the end of the twentieth century.

Fian had decided they should lose themselves, instead, in the witch's cauldron of post-Civil War United States. The nineteenth century was primitive enough. No need to overdo the pioneer thing. America offered an opportunity to wait out the future with some prospect of comfort, and little chance to alter the destiny of the State.

So why were they traveling eastward?

The day after tomorrow, on July 6, an Austrian official, fearing capture by Prussian cavalry, would bury nearly a hundred thousand florins in gold and silver near a tortoise-shaped granite boulder at the edge of a meadow on the western slopes of the Bohemian-Moravian heights. It would remain a lost treasure till workmen unearthed it the spring of the year before the outbreak of the Uprising.

Fian planned to borrow that treasure long enough to establish his family in America. With a little capital and Fial's historical knowledge, waiting in style shouldn't be difficult.

"Marx is in England now, isn't he?" Fial mused. "I wonder…"

"I have a feeling that the most important thing we can do here is shun our shrines and saints." Fian had always been irreverent of political holies, but his dedication was beyond question. Two centuries out of his own time, and still he was sacrificing for the good of the State. "The disappointment could be too much to handle."

Fial chuckled. "For us or him?"

"Both, probably."

Fian was also a realist. The State wasn't the workers' paradise Marx had envisioned. Nor, he was sure, would Marx be the ivory tower Messiah created by generations of State information officers.

"Father," Fiala asked, "do you really think Neulist is here?"

"There's no way of knowing. We've seen no proof that he isn't. For our own welfare we've got to act as if he is. Still, I don't think it's likely. He was quite a ways from the focus. But nothing about this seems likely. Anticipate the worst, hope for the best, survive, take the warning back the only way we can. That's what we have to do."

"That lieutenant. I feel sorry for him."

"Yes. Dead or blown back, he's better off. Seldom has a man been in a tighter spot. We'd better speak Czech for a while."

They had been forcing themselves to use German. It was a minority language in Bohemia, but the official language. It would be decades yet before Masaryk could elevate Czech to equal status. Even then, Czech would not take over completely till the fall of the Third Reich and the evacuation of the German minority.

Now, coming to a crossroad where an endless column of Austrians were moving south, they had to take care lest they were overhead.

The battered, dispirited vanquished of Kцnniggratz wouldn't give three ragged Bohemians anything but a hard time. Ordered to wait, they spent hours reviewing that parade of defeat. Fial and Fian debated the possible courses of history had the Empire beaten the Prussians.

For at least the twentieth time Fiala relived the final scene in the hovel at Lidice.

What had gone wrong?

The woman had returned with a priest, the pair chattering at one another crazily. The cleric hadn't believed a word-till he entered the hut.

Whatever it was about them, he had sensed it without a word having been spoken.

Mama!… the Other had screamed… And had slammed into her, out of mental nebulae, coming within a micron of shattering her control, of betraying all three of them.

The creature would babble the last gram of truth if ever she got the opportunity.

She knew, then, that there never would be peace between them. They were too alien.

The priest's eyes had widened startlingly. He had thrust the woman behind him, shielding her with his body, and had compelled her retreat while brandishing his crucifix. He had stammered something about bringing in the bishop and an exorcist.

Fian had grimly chuckled and said they had best depart before villagers gathered with torches and wooden stakes.

They had grabbed a few things and had gotten out immediately, before the villagers could react. Fial they had had to support between them till he recovered. Only after they were a half-dozen kilometers from the village did they begin planning, once Fial, with his historical background, had recovered enough to make them fully aware of when they were.

Where was no problem. Fial explained that Lidice had at one time been a national shrine. Later, the Central Committee had chosen it as the site of the headquarters, Agency for State Security.

There had been no spatial displacement.

Fial and Fian would invest man-months trying to develop a mathematical model of a chronon field capable of linearly linking a site despite all the motion of a planet, solar system, galaxy, and universe over two centuries.

Fiala concentrated on medicine. It would be critical if they were to survive this medically primitive era. At least they hadn't come in their own bodies, to a world where all the viruses and most of the bacteria would be alien, deadly, able to overwhelm their bodily defenses in no time.

XIII. On the Y Axis;