Pathfinder (Pathfinder 1)

“We’re going to breed you humans like puppies,” said the expendable, “and see if we can make anything useful out of you during the next eleven thousand years.”

• • •

For the seventh time, Umbo found himself facing himself, listening to the same message. “It won’t work.”

Immediately he left his observation point and entered the First People’s Bank of Aressa. There was Loaf, waiting just outside the office of the chief countsman. The plan this time had been rather desperate—Loaf would make a scene, yelling about how the bank was cheating him, while Umbo snuck in and started a fire, and then in the confusion they would get into the room where the jewel was kept inside a strongbox inside a safe. Once there, Umbo w

ould go back in time to the moment when the jewel was put into the strongbox, snatch it, and go.

That was the plan. Apparently it didn’t work.

Umbo went up the two flights of stairs to the anteroom of the counting office. Loaf saw him come in, sighed, and started to rise.

At that moment the countsman came out. “You’re here about a missing sum, I believe, sir?” the man asked Loaf with a smile.

“I found the missing money,” said Umbo at once.

“Thanks for your trouble,” said Loaf.

“I don’t think so,” said the countsman. “You’ve been spotted watching this bank for several weeks. We’ve had you followed. I think you’re planning a robbery, and each time you’re about to launch your attempt, something happens and you”—he pointed at Umbo—“come in and call it off.”

“Are you insane?” asked Loaf.

Two city guards opened the outer door and stepped inside, brandishing staves and prepared for action.

“Please sit back down,” said the countsman. “The First People’s Bank of Aressa has decided not to allow you to have an account here.”

“The law is that to be a ‘people’s bank’ you have to—” began Loaf.

“I know the law,” said the countsman. “We’re not required to keep the accounts of persons whose behavior arouses suspicion. A magistrate has already authorized the closure of your account in a privy hearing.”

“Nobody told us anything about—”

“That’s what makes it ‘privy,’” said the countsman. He held up a paper with writing on it. “Here is a certified note for the total amount that you deposited with us, including interest, and minus the costs of watching you. These two city guards will escort you downstairs, observe while the cashier pays it out, and see you to the door. If either of you ever attempts to enter again, you will both be arrested.”

“I don’t know why you think—” Loaf began again.

“There will be no discussion,” said the countsman. “However stupid bankers are upriver, we are not that stupid here.” He waved to the guards, dropped the certified note, and, as it fluttered to the floor, returned to his inner office.

Loaf looked at the guards and Umbo knew he was sizing them up. Umbo also knew that Loaf would conclude, as he always did, that he could handle both of them in a fight. But by now they had both learned that fighting always led to Umbo appearing to himself, telling himself not to let Loaf fight.

That’s why Loaf glanced at Umbo questioningly.

“No,” said Umbo.

“I didn’t see any . . .” Loaf’s voice trailed off.

“I can’t . . . because I won’t ever be allowed back in here,” said Umbo. “Especially if you do what you’re thinking.”

The two guards, who couldn’t make much sense of the conversation, still knew what Loaf’s assessing look had meant, and they now were separated more widely, their staves ready for action.

Umbo bent over, picked up the note, and marched between the guards. “Come on, Papa.” He said it in a tone that made it clear that in this case, the word “papa” was a synonym for “idiot.” Loaf growled and followed him out. Umbo was reasonably sure he had glared hard at the guards as he walked between them. But there was no thumping sound and no groaning and no shouting, so apparently Loaf was not succumbing to the temptation.

Downstairs they got their money. The “costs” were five times the interest, but it still didn’t make much of a dent in the total amount.

The cashier held up a scrap of paper with some scribbling on it. “By the way, the chief countsman informs me that word has been passed to all the other bankers in town. No one will accept your business or allow you inside. Thank you for banking at First People’s.”

The guards saw them to the door and then, outside, took up stations on either side and studiously looked up and down the street, as if they were there to watch for other thieves.