Time Snatchers (31 page)

I
stare at Abbie with my mouth open. She’s wearing the same rough clothes as Genghis except without the armor. Her hair is long and wild.

“Miss me?” she says with a flick of her mane.

“A-A … Abbie?”

“C-C-C … Caleb?” she stutters right back, smiling.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“My friend here,” she nods toward Genghis, “and his chief helped a lot. This place is like their backyard. They know every rock for a hundred miles. The tough part, though, was finding out what year and desert you were in. For that I have Frank to thank.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Frank helped you find me?” I ask.

“Not exactly,” she says, laughing, “but I did use some of his little tricks to persuade Phoebe to tell me where and when you were.”

“You mean, you hypnotized her?” I ask.

“Yup,” she says.

“And then, when you got her into a trance she told you exactly how to find me?” I say.

It feels strange to be using my jaw muscles again after not talking for so long.

“Well, not exactly. Like I said, I knew the desert and the year. But
your actual landing spot was a well-kept secret. Even Phoebe didn’t know.”

Abbie finger-brushes her hair. Part of me still can’t believe this is really happening.

“This is actually my fourth visit here, looking for you. The chief’s been putting me up in one of his guest tents.”

“But won’t Uncle or Frank be able to track you?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Post-hypnotic suggestion. All records of me coming here have been purged and replaced with me on research missions.”

“But what if they check up on you and find out that you’re not where you’re supposed to be? And how are you managing to complete your missions while you’ve been here looking for me?” I ask.

“My my,” says Abbie. “I’m glad to see that the desert heat hasn’t scrambled your brain, Cale. You don’t need to worry. Uncle and Frank have been too busy with the expansion plans to bother about me. Besides, I have been getting my missions done. All of my searching for you has been on my own time.”

I feel dizzy and close my eyes to steady myself. The most complex bit of thinking I’ve done in the last thirty-seven days is figuring out three different ways to cook a marmot. So I’m finding this a lot to take in at once. But one thing is coming through loud and clear: Abbie is here for me. She’s on my side!

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I open my eyes and smile. “Better than okay.”

Abbie glances around my little cave and says, “Typical bachelor. Squirrel bones all over the floor.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting company,” I say.

I look over at Genghis. “Does he … speak English?” I ask.

“No. Strictly Mongolian,” she says. “But it’s a real cool language.
Lots of verbs. At first I thought I was going to have trouble with it, seeing as this is the twelfth century, but Uncle gave us all upgrades recently and now my translator’s certified for a thousand years back.”

Recent upgrade? That’s why my translator’s not working. “Did you say we’re in the twelfth century?”

“To be exact, 1176,” says Abbie. “And, trust me, you lucked out. If this was 1175, I probably would never have found you. Temüjin didn’t have anywhere near the resources he’s got now.”

“Temüjin?”

“He’s the tribal leader in these parts. You’ve got to meet him. He must have something like a hundred thousand warriors working for him. Not bad for someone our age.”

I sit down. This is too much for me. “Wait. How long have you been here? I mean in the past, looking for me.”

“You mean on this particular trip?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” Abbie answers. “Maybe three and a half hours or so. It was quite a long ride to get to this ridge.”

“Well, then, why aren’t you …” I begin.

“Time fogged?” she finishes for me.

“Exactly.”

“You can thank Frank for that too. He created an app for his time patch to extend the time that he can stay comfortably in the past at one stretch. Of course, he didn’t exactly share the app with me. I had to wheedle it out of Phoebe.”

Wow. You go away for a month, and the world changes.

“Hey, don’t get too comfortable,” says Abbie. “We’re going. Temüjin’s waiting back at the
ger
with food.”

“
Ger
?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s what they call their tents,” she says. “C’mon. You look
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/1/11/Temujin.ogg
like you could use some breakfast.”

She squints at my skinny frame and adds, “And lunch and supper.”

Abbie nods at Genghis, and he leads the way down the ridge. I’m next, and Abbie brings up the rear. Thankfully, Genghis is taking it slow. I haven’t done this much exercise since my second day here, and I’m feeling it.

We go for another couple of minutes before Genghis stops, points to me and mutters something to Abbie.

“He says it’ll be faster if he carries you,” she says.

“Uhh. Sure,” I say. If it means I’ll get breakfast sooner, I’d happily have Genghis shoot me out of a cannon, although I suspect that’s slightly ahead of his time.

He slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and navigates nimbly down the rock ledges, pausing twice to put me down and share water from his flask.

When we arrive at the grasslands, I point to a bare spot. “That’s where I got my mattress,” I say proudly.

Abbie smiles and says, “Very nice.”

Nearby, two tawny horses are tied to the branches of a low shrub. Genghis unties them, and while Abbie hops on the back of the smaller one, he hoists me up onto the second horse. I almost fall off the other side, but Genghis steadies me and hops on behind me. The horse gives a whinny and a snort, which makes me wonder if there’s a maximum weight capacity for horses like there is for elevators.

I’ve never ridden a horse before, but since Genghis is steering, I figure all I’ve got to do is relax and enjoy the ride. And I do, for about five seconds, until the steed goes from a leisurely walk to a full gallop.

I look around desperately for something to hold on to, but the
only thing I can see is the horse’s mane. She’d better not mind having her hair pulled because I’m already reaching forward to grab a fistful.

Anyone who says the desert is flat is lying. I can barely keep my behind on the horse. On one particularly bad bump, I almost go flying. But, at the last second, Genghis keeps me on with a swipe of his hand.

By the position of the sun, I’d say we’ve been riding for a couple of hours. I don’t want to sound like a whiner, but if we have to go another hour, I don’t think I’m going to make it. My arms are so tired that I can barely grip the horse’s mane, and my legs feel like spaghetti.

Just when I think my limbs are about to fall off, the horse slows to a trot and then to a walk. I loosen my death grip and glance up. We’re on a ridge. Spread out below us is a huge encampment with at least five hundred dome-shaped tents.

We parallel the ridge for a while until we arrive at a path leading down. Soon we’re joined by two men on horseback dressed just like Genghis. They say something to him, but all the while they’re looking at me.

Genghis leads our little procession through a maze of tents. There are many soldiers around, grooming their horses, wrestling with each other or squatting in front of their tents, sharpening arrowheads on stones. They all wave to Genghis as we pass by.

Finally, we come to a tent that’s bigger than the others by half. Genghis dismounts and helps me off. Abbie is already down and handing her horse’s reins to a woman in a long red dress, the first woman I’ve seen since we arrived here. Abbie bows to Genghis and says,
“Bayarlalaa
.
”

Then she turns to me. “C’mon … I’ll introduce you to Temüjin.”

Abbie nods to the two soldiers standing by the flap, and ducking
our heads, we enter the big tent. As far as twelfth-century desert accommodations go, this place must easily be four stars. A brilliant blue carpet embroidered with stylized flowers and crosses covers the ground. Tapestries hang on the inside tent walls showing warriors in hand-to-hand combat. A fire burns in a pit near the back of the tent. Three figures sit cross-legged in the center, their long shadows reaching clear to me and Abbie.

I sneak a better look at my hosts. They’re all dressed like Genghis, with heavy coats and iron mesh armor. Even their faces look tough: brown and leathery from the sun. The man on the right has a heavily wrinkled face and a wispy white beard. I’m guessing he’s seventy years old or maybe even eighty. The one on the left I put in his forties. But it’s the guy in the middle who’s got my attention. He can’t be much older than I am. And it doesn’t take long to figure out he’s the boss around here. When the other guys look at him, you can see the respect in their eyes.

Abbie smiles, gives a little bow and says,
“Sain baina uu
.
”

The young leader returns her smile and snaps his fingers. The man on his left nods and silently leaves the tent.

“Sain baina uu,”
says the leader, looking at me.

“Temüjin’s saying hello, Cale,” says Abbie. “Say
bi zügeer
. It means you’re fine. But bow first.”

I give a shaky little bow.
“Bi zügeer,”
I say.

Temüjin keeps his eyes on me and says,
“Naash oirt
.
”

“What did he just say?”

“He wants you to come closer.”

I shuffle forward. I’m still aching from my little pony ride, but I thrust my chest out and stand up as straight as I can.

Temüjin squints at me and says,
“Chi tom hamartai yum
.
”

“Bi zövshöörch baina
,
”
Abbie answers.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“That you have a big nose,” she says.

“And what did you say?”

“I had to agree with him. But don’t worry. I think your nose is cute.”

Temüjin stands, clasps his hands behind his back and circles me twice slowly. Then he stops, looks over at Abbie and says,
“Chi burhan shig haragdahgui baina.”

“What did he say?” I ask.

“That you don’t look like much like a god,” she answers.

“I don’t get it,” I say.

“Well, I had to build you up a bit,” she says. “So that he’d agree to send one of his men to look for you.”

“So you told him I was a god?” I say, arching my eyebrows.

“Not exactly. I just said that you and I are equals. He’s convinced I’m a god because a few of his men who saw me land the first time told him I came from the clouds. Plus, I think my white skin and auburn hair sealed the deal.”

The tent flap opens and the man who had gone is back now, flanked by two women covered head to toe in long, flowing robes. One of them hands me a wooden bowl filled to the brim with some kind of liquid. The other hands me a folded robe. I glance over at Abbie.

“Go ahead, Cale, drink up. They call it
tarag
,
”
she says. “And don’t worry. If you’re too shy to change here, you can save that for later.”

I lift the bowl to my mouth and take a sip. Yuck. It tastes like sour yogurt. But it’s food, and I’m not about to turn it away. I drain it in about ten seconds flat, to the delight of my hosts. I’m instantly rewarded with another bowl.

“You might want to nurse this one a little longer,” says Abbie.

I nod and smile at everyone, hoping they’ll all stop looking at me.

Suddenly, the old guy sitting next to Temüjin leaps up, kneels in front of Abbie and says,
“Minii zurkh zovkhon cinii l toloo tsokhildog
.
”
Then he turns to me and says,
“Tüünii orond bi hoyor zuun yamaa, tavin shildeg tsereg ögiye.”

Abbie looks at him, smiles, shrugs her shoulders and turns to me.

“What did he say to you?” I ask.

“He said that his heart beats only for me.”

“And what did he say to me?”

“He offered you two hundred goats and fifty of his best fighters for me,” she says.

“Are you serious?”

“What? You don’t you think I’m worth it?”

“Uhh, sure. But what should I say?”

“Tell him you won’t settle for less than three hundred goats and eighty fighters,” says Abbie with a straight face. “Just kidding,” she adds. “Tell him thank you, but I’m not for sale.”

“But don’t you think that will upset him?” I say, glancing at the sword resting on the ground next to the old guy.

Abbie narrows her eyes at me. “Who would you rather upset … him or me?”

“No problem. I just thought we could say something to, you know, let him down gently. But I’ll tell him straight out, if that’s what you want. Just give me the words.”

She whispers in my ear and I turn to the old guy and say,
“Uuchlaarai. ene emegteig hudaldahgui
.
”

To my great relief, the guy doesn’t draw his sword or challenge me to a duel or anything. He just smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

“We’d better start saying our good-byes,” says Abbie. “Do you want another refill on your
tarag
before we go?”

I look down at my bowl. It’s still half full. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Yeah, I don’t like it much either,” she says. “Let’s go. I’ll take you for a proper breakfast at Phil’s.”

“Abbie, I don’t think—” I start to say.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “You might feel full now, but you know how it is with Mongolian food. In a half hour you’ll be hungry again.”

“No, it’s not that,” I say.

“Well, spit it out, Cale. If you’re worried about running into Frank or Uncle, don’t. Phil’s is a little hole in the wall on the Lower East Side. There’s no way Uncle or Frank’s even heard of it.”

I wince hearing their names. “It’s not that either,” I say. “I can’t leave here, Abbie. They took away my patch.”

“I know,” she says. “Nassim told me. But don’t worry—you won’t need it. We’re traveling together.”

“Together? How?” I ask.

She grabs my good wrist, holds it against hers, smiles wide at Temüjin and says, “Watch and be amazed.”