Tedor knew. Ruscar held his post as Chief of the Time Agents largely because of it.
"There is no crime worse than time-tinkering. We are a people depending on time. Ours is a civilization which exists in time. Many of our workers actually commute daily to past ages. Others live and work in the past entirely, paying their taxes and visiting here occasionally. We depend on the past for virtually all of our natural resources. Think for a moment, Tedor—"
It was Ruscar's favorite subject. Tedor had heard it before, but he found himself listening nevertheless, for Ruscar tackled this business of time-tinkering with sincerity.
"Think for a moment what would happen if the past ages became aware of us. What would you do if you learned a group of men five thousand years unborn were stealing mineral wealth from under your nose, conducting tours through your backyard, exploiting you and your century for the far future?"
"I wouldn't like it."
"Exactly. So, the cardinal rule of time-travel is this: don't get caught at it. When in Rome do as the Romans do. Never let it be known you come from another time. And the second rule is an adjunct of the first: conduct yourself in such a manner as to alter the flow of time only sufficiently to obtain whatever is required from the particular century. Hence the crime of time-tinkering.
"There's another reason for it, of course. Suppose history was changed. Suppose, for example, someone killed your great-great-grandfather before he had the chance to sire your grandfather. What would happen?"
Tedor smiled. "You couldn't be talking to Agent G-20. I wouldn't exist."
"Precisely. You want this girl, this Laniq Hadrien, for personal reasons. She killed Fornswitthe. I want her for another reason. She is guilty of the one crime our culture cannot tolerate. She will be captured, Tedor. I'll assign a century agent to the job."
"No," said Tedor.