With Amy at the front to steer, Yerby Bannock pushed a cart loaded to the point of overbalancing toward the ship that would take his party to Greenwood. Mark and Dr. Jesilind struggled together with the other cart holding Amy's and Jesilind's gear—less in volume and much less heavy than the machinery Yerby was bringing from Kilbourn.
"That's close enough," a crewman called from the open hatch. "We'll stow it." She scratched behind her right ear and glanced at the fellow beside her at the winch controls. "Of course, we might not have time to take care of it before liftoff. . . ."
Mark stepped away from the luggage cart, gasping to get his breath back: He'd volunteered to help get his new friends' gear to the ship. He didn't regret the offer or even the effort—but if Dr. Jesilind had been pushing with all his strength, he was even less of a baggage handler than he was a scholar.
"Twenty Zenith dollars to split between you," Yerby said cheerfully. "And let's not have any accidents. Or else maybe I'll have an accident too."
He smacked his right fist into his left palm. The threat was as lighthearted as Yerby's willingness to tip for the work, but Mark had seen enough of the frontiersman to know that both were real.
"Yerby," Mark said, "Doctor, I'm glad to have met you. Amy—"
He bowed.
"—a particular honor to have met you. I wish you well in your new home."
"Well, you have a good voyage to Kilbourn, too, lad," Yerby said. "Space ain't so big that we might not knock into each other again. I'd like that."
"I don't believe I heard just why you were traveling to Kilbourn, Mark," Amy said.
"Very likely for education, my dear," Jesilind said. "Mr. Maxwell is the sensible sort of youth who can appreciate the value of an education."
A valve on the starship let out a shriek, jetting white steam into a generally gray sky. Mark held his tongue during the release, but he kept his eyes on Jesilind. The doctor really shouldn't have smirked in that would-be superior fashion. . . .
"In a manner of speaking, that's true," Mark said deliberately in the relative silence following. "I hope to learn about real life on the frontier. But as for formal education of the sort you mean, I have a degree from Harvard."
"You took a Harvard course too?" Jesilind blurted. "I understood—"
"I took a degree at Harvard," Mark said. "On Earth. I didn't meet your Dean Brickley, sir, because he died before I was born. Even before you were born. But he was a scholar of great capacity, I'm sure."
Yerby slapped both his thighs, a wham! wham! as startling as shotgun blasts. "Don't that beat all?" he cried. "Amy, didn't I tell you right off what a smart lad Mark was? Degree on Earth, yet! Earth!"
"Certainly a visit to such a site of ancient learning is of value," Dr. Jesilind said, attempting to project a tone of icy detachment. "Though as I understand it, the instruction on Earth is by hypnagogue also."
"One side or a leg off!" the crewman shouted as she gave Jesilind a warning push. She'd set the winch clamps on the first layer of Yerby's baggage. Five large trunks swung through the space the doctor had occupied a moment before.
"That was largely true for background materials," Mark said. "Some of the lectures were recorded as well. But I had a live seminar with Dr. Kelsing—Anitra Kelsing, perhaps you've heard of her?"
Of course Jesilind hadn't. Mark could have made up names and Jesilind wouldn't know the difference. But Mark didn't have to make up names.
"She takes twelve students a year, and I was fortunate enough to be accepted as one of them," Mark continued. "The seminar covered views of the political background to the settlement of Quelhagen, which of course was particularly interesting to me."
"What did I tell you?" Yerby repeated. "Live courses!"
Dr. Jesilind looked like he'd gulped down a bite of something he really should have avoided. That was pretty much true: he'd had to swallow the smirk he'd given Mark.
"But if you want to see the frontier," Amy said, "why are you going to Kilbourn, Mark?"
"Well, because I thought . . ." Mark said. He looked at Amy and suddenly wished that he'd been a little more careful in his phrasing. "That is, from Quelhagen, it seemed—"
"That Kilbourn was frontier!" Yerby bellowed cheerfully. "Say, that's a joke as good as the one you pulled on us, saying you weren't no scholar!"
Amy blushed and turned her head as if to watch the rest of Yerby's baggage hoisted aboard the starship. She hadn't acted vain about her education the way Jesilind did, but learning that Mark thought she was a hick from the frontier must have hurt.
He didn't think that!
"Look, lad," said Yerby, putting his arm protectively around Mark's shoulders. "Forty years ago, in my daddy's time, Kilbourn was a pretty rough place, sure. Now, hell, they've even got uniformed policemen and laws about how much you can drink."
He shook his head in remembered amazement. Having seen Yerby in action, Mark could imagine how the frontiersman was likely to have reacted to a bartender who told him he'd had enough to drink. "So if you want frontier, a place a fellow can make his own luck—well, you ought to come to Greenwood with us. You'll get your education and I shouldn't wonder if you got rich besides, as sharp as you are."
"Mr. Maxwell has already made his plans, Yerby," Jesilind said in a thin tone. "And besides, our ship is about to take off."
"I haven't been to Greenwood myself, yet," Amy said, her embarrassment forgotten. "I remember what Kilbourn was like when I was younger, but . . . it would be nice having someone else around who'll find things as new as they'll be to me."
"As a matter of fact," Mark said, "my time's my own for the next year. Most of a year. But—"
The winch was hauling aboard the last of the parly's baggage. The cargo handler rode the load into the hatch.
"—Dr. Jesilind is right, there's no time for me to board with you. Perhaps a later vessel?"
Yerby laughed heartily. "You go bring your traps, boy," he said with a dismissive wave toward the caravansary five hundred yards away. "If you need help, the doc'll help you, won't you, Doc?"
Jesilind looked startled. "No, that won't be necessary," Mark said. "It's just the one bag."
"And me," Yerby continued, "I'll stay here and make sure the ship don't lift before you get back. Which it won't, or my name's not Yerby Bannock. You don't even need to run."
Mark ran anyway, as best he could. The combination of Amy's pleasure and Jesilind's sour expression both spurred him.