“Where should we go?” Hunter asked.

“To the waterfront,” said Rita. “That’s where the nightlife will be in a port town.”

“And places to stay,” Steve added.

“That’s right,” said Rita. “Taverns and inns. And real buccaneers.”

“Jane,” said Hunter. “MC 2 could be returning to full size about now, given the range of my calculations. Where do you think he might go in a town like this? As a roboticist, do you think he would go to the waterfront?”

“It’s a reasonable guess,” said Jane slowly. “But robotics isn’t the issue, except to the extent that he was programmed to fit in with humans. When he returns to full size, he’ll need clothes from this period in order to blend into the crowd. Without them, he’ll have to sneak around in the dark for a while, so he’ll be out at night. And without any money, he’ll have to steal whatever clothes he can find.”

“That might be easier in a part of town where everyone’s asleep,” said Steve.

“People in the better parts of town probably protect themselves and their belongings better,” said Rita. “They’ll take in their wash before sundown and have guard dogs and servants.”

“I think he would be drawn to an area that has some activity after dark,” said Jane. “He will need to learn what he can about the language and culture as fast as possible, so even overhearing conversations

from hiding will be important to him.”

“That’s also where we can buy some knives to carry with us,” said Rita.

“We will try the waterfront, “ Hunter decided.

4

As Hunter led the team down the winding streets toward the waterfront, he turned up the sensitivity in both his hearing and his vision. Every warning Rita had given about the violence of buccaneer culture had sharpened his concerns under the First Law. He would have to evaluate each sight and sound for potential threats.

The strong scent of the sea came to him on the wind well before they reached the waterfront. All along the docks, torches were burning over the doors of taverns and over open-air booths, where wares of all kinds were for sale, including earthenware, knitting, and fabrics. The smell of oily smoke was thick. He looked through the crowd of people for someone the size of MC 2.

“There,” said Rita, pointing.

“MC 2?” Hunter looked around.

“No, Hunter.” Rita laughed. “Just a booth where we can all arm ourselves.”

“Hey, look at that stuff,” said Steve enthusiastically, hurrying over to the booth. “All kinds of knives, pistols, swords…wow.”

“Try them out,” said the proprietor, in a French accent. He was a bony, gray-haired man wearing only knee breeches and a large, gold earring. His bare feet were calloused and black with the rich island dirt. “Heft them, feel their weight. I am Henri the Ironmonger.”

Steve picked up a flintlock pistol and turned it to one side, so that it pointed away from everyone. He looked at it carefully, then cocked it and pulled the trigger with a satisfying click. Then he set it down on the rough wooden table and picked up something else.

“This is good,” said Rita, picking up a long, curved dagger. “I can wear it in a sash, where people can see it. And it’s not too heavy for me to use.”

“I see,” said Jane. More reluctantly, she picked up a straight dagger of about the same length. “I don’t know if I could use this on anyone.”

“You probably won’t have to,” said Rita.

“What? Then what’s the point?”

“The idea is to make some of these guys think twice about bothering us in the first place. With Hunter to protect us and these knives out where everyone can see them, we just might be left alone.”

“I see.”

Rita stepped back and made a couple of stabbing motions in the air, then swung the dagger around experimentally.

“But why are you so particular, if you don’t think you’ll have to use it-” Jane started.

“Maybewe won’t have to use them,” Rita reminded her, with a grin. “We want something we can handle, just in case.”

“These are all so cruel,” said Hunter, examining the weapons on the table. He felt a sense of alarm, reminded of how quickly the First Law could come into effect with so many weapons around. “They are intended only for committing grave harm to other humans.”

“Where have you been, my gigantic friend?” Henri the Ironmonger laughed. “Taking vows in a monastery?”

“No,” said Hunter, cautiously.

“Try a cutlass,” said Rita quickly. She raised up the handle of one of the long, curved swords. “You can handle a heavy weapon.” Then she lowered her voice. “Remember, you’re a buccaneer. Think of it as playacting.”

“And you have permission to lie as part of the playacting,” said Jane softly. “Under the Second Law, I instruct you to maintain your role as a buccaneer.”

“Acknowledged,” said Hunter, accepting the cutlass. Imitating Rita’s earlier moves, he stepped away from the others and swung it around in the air a couple of times. At the same time, he accessed some of his data on buccaneers, including some children’s books he had recorded. “Avast, matey.”

The three humans on his team laughed.

“Aye, a big fellow like yourself can use a big sword like that one,” said Henri. “No sense in a strong, strapping man wasting his time with some little frog sticker. Lost your old sword, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Rita said quickly. “Overboard. It was, uh, a difficult moment.”

“I’ve had my share of those,” said Henri, nodding sympathetically. “I may not look it now, but I have.” He grinned, showing only a couple of teeth.

“Steve,” said Hunter. He was uncomfortable with this playacting. “Have you picked something?”

“I’m not sure,” said Steve. “ A pistol would be good, but clumsy to load. And these flintlocks only shoot once before you reload.”

“Of course,” said Henri, puzzled. “Have you ever heard of any devil gun that could shoot more than once at a time? But it reaches out to your enemy before you enter the range of his blade.”

“The chance of accident is greater, too,” said Hunter. “Please choose an edged weapon.”

“Okay.” Steve shrugged and picked up a rapier. “I’ll try this one. How about scabbards and belts?”

“Sorry, my friends,” said Henri. “I have collected these fine weapons wherever I could, but mostly they came from unfortunates who fell in courageous battle. Belts and scabbards were not close to hand.”

“Whatever.” Steve shrugged.

“Bargain with him,” Rita whispered to Hunter. Hunter tried, but without knowing the going price of swords and daggers, he was at a disadvantage. Rita helped, arguing vigorously and three times walking away from the booth in feigned disgust. Finally, at her instruction, Hunter bought all the weapons for less than a handful of coins.

The team walked away, satisfied.

“An interesting cultural phenomenon,” said Hunter. “My stored information tells me that parts of the world still routinely bargain even in our time. I had never experienced it before. It is more psychology than economics.”

“That’s right,” said Rita. “But now we all need belts or sashes to wear, to hold up our weapons.”

“Rita,” said Jane, pointing. “Look at the that booth, over there. Those are sashes and scarves.”

“Perfect,” said Rita. “Come on, Hunter.”

This time, Hunter bargained alone and successfully purchased four long cotton sashes, two of faded blue and two that were more or less black. Each member of the team took one. At Rita’s direction, they tied them around their waists and stuck their weapons through them at the hip.

“Good enough,” said Rita, looking around with an excited expression. “This is really special for me. I can hardly believe I’m doing this. I’ve spent my entire adult life studying this time and this region. And now I’m actually here.”

“We are glad to have you with us,” said Hunter. He looked at Rita and Jane. “What do you suggest now? How can we maximize our chances of finding MC 2?”