"Who was the girl he kidnapped?" Brek asked.
The Councillor smiled apologetically. "Dori Clayton."
The muscles of Halliday's jaw tightened. "I see," he said stiffly. "When do I leave?"
"We'll prepare you immediately. It's going to be a touchy job to get both of them out of there, so watch yourself."
"Don't worry," Halliday said quietly. "I'll manage it." He walked out, eyes hot with rage, thinking of Dori in Sagginer's clutches. His hands slowly clenched and unclenched as he headed down the long hall.
A Time Patrolman's first step in any excursion to the past is to learn the language and the history so well that he can pass as a native. For three days, Brek Halliday lay in the padded tank of a hypnorobot while information was poured into him.
Then he was given his clothes. They consisted of a pair of high-heeled boots made of treated animal skin, a pair of tight trousers woven of blue-dyed vegetable fiber, a shirt of similar material, and a broad-brimmed hat. Other clothing and equipment went into a pack, and a money-belt around Brek's waist carried gold coins that not even an expert could have told from the originals.
The thing that Brek liked best was the fact that he would be allowed to carry weapons openly. Some civilizations of the past didn't permit a citizen to carry guns, but where Brek was going, a man with a pair of six-guns at his hips wouldn't look odd at all.
Brek had ridden a horse three times—once in the Battle of Agincourt, once at Chickamaugua, and once during a trip from Rome to Ravenna in the Sixth Century. His fourth horse was saddled a little differently, but he found it easy to handle. He trotted it onto the platform and signalled the operator. There was a brief hum as the chronokinetic projector warmed up. Then there was a sudden surge of power.