"Five hundred years in the future of my Time-world," said Alan.
"Yes. Your city of New York is then about at its height. Turber is powerful there—impregnable. There is only one other Time in which Turber habitually stops. The year 1945. Lea went there. But it was foolish, we all realize now. As you know—she could accomplish nothing. And but for you, Turber would have had her!"
Again Lea interrupted. Powl translated: "She wants me to say that now she will learn your Ancient English. There are so many dead languages—but she is very quick to learn—when interested."
"Interested?" said Alan. His gaze went to Lea's eager face. A wave of color swept her; but her eyes remained level and she held out her hand. Its touch thrilled Alan. As though the clasp were sealing a compact; unspoken, but he could read her eyes and feel, surprisingly, the sudden answer in his own heart.
San, too, held out his hand. Powl said: "My children find in you a friend—sorely needed." Again the old man's eyes flashed. "We have sworn that Turber will die. He has your sister, and your friend. Your own purpose—"
"To get them back," said Alan. "But where is he? I don't think he will return to 1945. You say he is impregnable in 2445—"
"Yes. But he is not there now. If he stops—in some earlier age, as we hope—then will be your opportunity."
A man came to the doorway of the room, spoke to Powl, and disappeared. Powl stood up. He said, with brisk energy:
"The instruments are ready. Turber, we think, is still traveling in time. We will try, with your sister's cloak, to locate him as soon as he stops anywhere."