Calitrax, chief historian of Lys, met them at the little jetty. He was a tall, slightly stooping man, and Rorden wondered how, without the help of the Master Associa-tors, he had ever managed to learn so much in his short life. It did not occur to him that the very absence of such machines was the reason for the wonderful memories he had met in Grevarn.
They walked together beside one of the innumerable canals that made life in the village so hazardous to strangers. Calitrax seemed a little preoccupied, and Rorden knew that part of his mind was still with Vanamonde.
“Have you settled your date-fixing procedure yet?” asked Rorden presently, feeling somewhat neglected.
Calitrax remembered his duties as host and broke contact with obvious reluctance.
“Yes,” he said. “It had to be the astronomical method. We think it’s accurate to ten thousand years, even back to the Dawn Ages. It could be even better, but that’s good enough to mark out the main epochs.”
“What about the Invaders? Has Bensor located them?”
“No: he made one attempt but it’s hopeless to look for any isolated period. What we’re doing now is to go back to the beginning of history and then take cross-sections at regular intervals. We’ll link them together by guesswork until we can fill in the details. If only Vanamonde could interpret what he sees! As it is we have to work through masses of irrelevant material.”
“I wonder what he thinks about the whole affair: it must all be rather puzzling to him.”
“Yes, I suppose it must. But he’s very docile and friendly, and I think he’s happy, if one can use that word. So Theon believes, and they seem to have a curious sort of affinity. Ah, here’s Bensor with the latest ten million years of history. I’ll leave you in his hands.”