By Poul Anderson
Manse Everard is a guy with a challenge. As an Unattached Agent of the Time Patrol, he is to head at any place - and every time! - the place humanity's transcendent destiny is threatened via the alteration of the previous. this can be Manse's occupation, and his burden: for a way a lot anguish, all through human heritage, can he endure to maintain?
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Sample text
After long abstinence, we were in civilized parts again, and stopped at a caravanserai where girls were available. I had a hell of a fine time with Atossa That’s all. Maybe that’s what’s wrong, he reflected, that that was all. She’s a sweet lass. She deserves better than the life she’s got. Big eyes, small breasts, slim hips, knowing hands, yet toward dawn the wistfulness in her voice when she asked if he’d ever be back. And what he’d given her, apart from a modest fee and afterward a tip, was merely the consideration that most twentieth-century American men ordinarily tried to show a woman.
You’re bound to have learned a fair bit, knocking around the world. More than you let on. I expect you’ll interest my associates too. ” Everard grinned. It lightened the massive features, pale blue eyes beneath brown locks, nose dented in a long-ago fight about which he had said as little as he told of his past in general. “Well, I can give them plenty of whoppers,” he drawled. Hipponicus grew earnest. “I don’t want you for a performing bear, Meander. Please don’t believe that. We’re friends. Aren’t we?
Good, he thought. It turns out I’m in luck. I can look up Chandrakumar without any problems, and in addition, I may well learn something useful from Hipponicus’ acquaintances. Admittedly, he’d be a trifle more conspicuous than he had planned on. However, in cosmopolitan Bactra he’d cause no sensation. He needn’t seriously fear alerting his quarry. “We’ll soon take care of that,” the merchant promised. As if to bear him out, the road swung sharply around a stand of chedar trees and the city which they had been glimpsing sprang into full view.
