"Stay here," he told Laniq. He had materialized for himself the clothing of a Frank warrior. With it and his spear he strode boldly to Charlemagne's own tent, relieving the sentry who paced outside it, then a few moments later relieving the guard inside. "I don't know you," the man grumbled. "I'm new," said Tedor. "German. Go to sleep." Charlemagne was a tall, slender man fully six and a half feet in height, with white hair and a long white beard. He paced back and forth anxiously, great hands folded behind his richly robed back. "The road to Rome is not open," he said to someone irritably, as if he had said if before but the man refused to take no for an answer. "Not yet, it isn't," his guest answered suavely. He was a younger man, clean-shaven like Tedor. "I can open it for you. Empire awaits you, Charles; don't turn away from it." "I still do not even know who you are." "Nor will you--ever." "What do you want if you help me attain this Empire?" "Assistance. Troops if we demand them. Labor conscripted in your border countries. Certain minerals." "Not gold?" "Not gold." Tedor stood his watch not a dozen feet from them at the entrance to the tent. The stranger might be from the future, although Tedor had seen nothing to prove it. He activated the transmitter embedded in his palate with his tongue, whispered almost inaudibly, "You are not alone." Charlemagne had not heard him. The stranger could not have heard, either, unless he had a receiver in his ear. The stranger jumped as if stung. "Where are you?" Tedor heard in his ear, then watched as the stranger made a great show of clearing his throat. "You are sure?" Charlemagne was saying. "No gold?" Tedor never heard the answer. He fled back the way he had come, found Laniq crouching near one of the cook-fires. "You might have escaped," he said. "Did you see?" "I saw. I knew you wouldn't try anything. I'm ready for another visit, Laniq." Then was there indeed a monopolist? Ruscar had scoffed at the idea. Domique Hadrien had gone into hiding. The twentieth century, Laniq had said. But if Hadrien knew what he was talking about, Tedor must find more evidence and return with it to Ruscar. Once Ruscar had said something about tinkering on the grand scale. This made all other tinkering seem meaningless by comparison, and Tedor shuddered when he thought of the consequences it might have for the future. Laniq claimed they had beaten it in every age but Tedor's own stamping grounds, the twentieth century, but he knew that century alone could be more than sufficient, for it was one of the great turning points in history. Was that why Dorlup was interested? "Come on," said Laniq. * * * * * "The dialect you learned," she told him later, "is Yakka Mongol. This is the thirteenth century, Barwan. We are in the Gobi desert. You know of Genghis Kahn?"