Kemper thought about it. It would take a while. After Gteris arrived there would be important details to occupy him, such as assimilating the manners and mores of this era and getting proper clothing. He said, "When he comes you'll have no trouble finding me. I won't leave the grounds; I give my word." "The word of a renegade and a fugitive?" Ulbasar was himself again. "The word of a Noble," said Kemper, turning away from him coldly. "One thing more, Lord Kjem," Ulbasar said. "The time rift. We have orders to go back with you along the rift you used, making certain that you seal it behind us. Is it close by?" "That I will tell you when I have to," said Kemper, turning completely around this time and walking away. * * * * * Ulbasar would keep close watch on him, he knew, until Gteris came. That they intended to make him close his time rift made sense; the rift was dangerous to the over-all pattern. When he had left hastily he had forced his way through time with his mind-matrix, knowing that pursuit would have been swift if he had taken one of the normal time paths. The rift he had made was obvious, but would respond to no one but him. Others could accompany him through it, however, as he led the way. Gteris and Ulbasar could go with him and, controlling his mind, make him close the rift behind him. So he walked briskly, knowing he had much to do in an uncertain amount of time. The sun was higher, pale in the glazed sky. Disheveled, harassed-looking people passed him, sweat stains dark on their clothes, and with them were fretful children. Mr. Kemper walked, and the people went by him, on their way to laugh at the monkeys, throw stones at the bears, and call "Kitty, kitty, kitty" to the leopards. At a stand opposite the polar bears, near the north wing of the central building, he stopped to get a cup of coffee, but there was none for sale, so instead he bought a paper cup full of a green drink. He sipped it, watching a big white bear loafing in the pool. A little to one side of him a young man was arguing with a boy who wanted cotton candy. From below them, and to their right, came a low rumbling. "What's that, Daddy?" said the boy. "It's only the lions roaring," his father answered. "They're not roaring, actually," said Mr. Kemper. "They're grunting, and clearing their throats." The boy looked at Mr. Kemper with interest, but his father frowned. "It sounds like roaring to me," he said. Mr. Kemper smiled at the boy. "Oh no. If the lions were roaring you could hear nothing else. It's a sound you never forget, a sound that rips the wind and shakes the trees with thunder." "I could forget it, Mac," said the counterman, leaning on his elbows and winking at the boy's father. "I want to hear the lions roar," the boy said. "For Pete's sake, what do you want? Make up your mind; do you want lions or cotton candy?" The boy's father looked exasperated.