By early morning they had pa.s.sed beyond the siege lines and lay hidden in a copse of woods four miles from the Magdeburg gates.

"We will travel only at night for the first few days," Henri said, "and hide during the day. Best not to tempt fate."

That afternoon, after sleeping most of the morning, they watched the huge pillar of smoke boil up into the sky from the direction of Magdeburg. Henri, her father's friend, and an almost uncle, turned grim. "It is much worse than even I suspected it would be. They should not have set fire to the town. Magdeburg alive could sustain them. Magdeburg destroyed will force them to forage into the countryside. We will have to move as soon as we can tonight."

As Colette Dubois watched the black smoke rise into the sky she imagined she could hear the screams of the women and children on the breeze. She shuddered. Raped and murdered. Thousands of them. And now Tilly's wolves would be scouring the outlying districts for more plunder and victims.

They rode for days, constantly on guard and careful to avoid concentrations of other travelers who might attract the attention of soldiers. Finally they stopped at an abandoned house on the outskirts of a village so that Henri could get more supplies. Colette and Colas, her brother, hid in the woods near the house and waited, tying their horses far enough back so they would not whinny in greeting to any horses pa.s.sing along the road.

In the late afternoon they heard hoof beats on the road. Colette quickly grabbed Colas before he could jump up and expose himself. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "Wait and see if it is Henri first."

Crouching back down, Colette and Colas watched as half a dozen soldiers kicked in the door of the house and began to ransack it.

So stupid, thought Colette. There was nothing of value left in the house. But the soldiers seemed to delight in smashing what little furniture there was. Two of the men began a more systematic search of the outside yard and were beginning to work their way steadily in Colette's direction. If they came too close .. . Colette shivered. She knew what her fate would be. Death, if she was lucky. And Colas wasn't strong enough to survive even a week in a soldier's camp, given his recent sickness.

It was the light that saved them.

The soldiers were twenty yards away when the sun sp.a.w.ned on the earth. A t.i.tanic wave of sound rolled across the house. Terrified, the soldiers quickly mounted their horses and galloped off.

Colette watched them go. She breathed a sigh of relief. Then felt Colas' tug at her sleeve.

He pointed. "Where did the hill go?"

Colette shivered again. A sign from G.o.d. But what did it mean?

It was an hour later when they once again heard hoof beats on the road. This time it was Henri. He had no supplies and he seemed to be favoring his left shoulder.

Colette saw the blood on his jacket. "You've been shot!"

Henri dabbed at the wound. "It's nothing. No bones broken, not much blood. A band of cutthroats.

We'll have to ride on for supplies." Henri gestured toward the house. "What happened here?"

Colette shook her head. "I don't know. There were soldiers, half a dozen of them. They would have found us but for the light. It was like the sun was rising from the earth. The sound nearly deafened us."

They spent the night several hundred yards deeper in the woods.

"Josh! Your move, boy."

Josh sighed. Normally it took his grandfather at least 15 minutes to make a move in the middle game.

He'd thought there would be plenty of time to use the phone in the kitchen for a quick call to his sister-in-law.

"What was that?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"Gramps. We're playing chess. It's Sunday after all," Josh said.

Josh's grandfather always hosted the weekly parish chess club. Josh had been involuntarily inducted when they heard about his U.S. Chess Federation master rank. This Sunday, of course, the group was limited to the real chess fanatics who were willing to incur Vince Masaniello's wrath by skipping out early on his fortieth wedding anniversary party.

Josh could feel his sister-in-law smile. "You going to let him win this time?"

"Not likely." Josh chuckled. "He knows I'm still a master. If I let him win I'd never hear the end of it.

But at least I can make it seem like a struggle."

"Tell that French witch you're busy, boy. I just made the move of the century! No way you're getting out of this one!"

"Oh great," Josh said. "Now you're the French witch."

Mich.e.l.le laughed. "Tell Joe he's a surly old curmudgeon."

"Mich.e.l.le says you're a surly old curmudgeon, Gramps."

Joe snorted. "She's got that right."

"Hey, Lou," Josh said, "is Gramp's move that great? Maybe I should stay in the kitchen."

He heard the pause in the speed chess game and knew that Lou Giamarino was looking over the board.

"Yeah. You're in trouble all right," Lou said dryly. "Looks like he bought your sacrifice. Probably mate in five for you."

Josh laughed and listened for a minute as the three old friends began arguing over Joe's last move.

That should keep them busy, he thought. "Did you get all of the books sent, Mich.e.l.le?"

The company Josh worked for had received the contract from the West Virginia Department of Transportation to investigate the old Baltimore & Ohio railroad route for the "rails to trails" program. Joshhad pushed hard to get the job, knowing that he could save a lot of his per diem by staying with his grandfather in Grantville.

But, as a quid pro quo, Josh's boss had demanded that he prepare a paper for a symposium, any symposium, involved with industrial archaeology. Josh had discovered that the twenty-sixth International symposium of the International Committee for the History of Technology was looking for an American to present a report. Since he worked mainly in Pittsburgh, Josh decided that the early history of steel would be just about perfect.

Initially, Josh had made good progress on the paper for the symposium, gaining access to a variety of records from Pittsburgh steel companies. He had also done extensive spelunking on the internet, vacuuming all kinds of files onto his laptop's hard drive. Early on, he discovered "The Sheffield Connection" in the Pittsburgh crucible steel industry, but the only decent sources available for deep background were dusty nineteenth-century books not found in the United States. Taking advantage of his sister-in-law's upcoming trip to London and Paris, he asked her to air express some of the books he had selected.

"Yes, they've all been sent," Mich.e.l.le said. "Didn't you get them yet?"

"No, just one package with the two history books. The rest are probably lost in some DHL warehouse in New York. If they aren't here by Wednesday I'll run their tracking numbers down. The B & O survey should be wrapped up soon and then I can really get working on the paper for the symposium." Josh heard some noise from the other end of the line. Daniel's voice.

"Oops." Mich.e.l.le laughed. "Someone wants to say hi."

"Josh!"

"Daniel! How's my favorite nephew doing?"

Josh smiled when he heard Mich.e.l.le say, "Speak French, Daniel."

"Josh, grandpere m'a amene voir Notre Dame."

"C'etait amusant?"

"Josh, c'est une cathedrale," scolded Daniel. "Plutot ennuyeux. Mais les gargouilles, ca, ca me plait."

Josh grinned. "Alors, peut-etre la Tour Eiffel te plairait plus. Laisse-moi parler a ta maman maintenant."

"Okay, Josh. See you."

"Later, Daniel."

Mich.e.l.le came back on the line.

"Got to go, Mich.e.l.le," Josh said. "I'll call again when I get back to Pittsburgh. Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime au . . ."

The phone went dead at the same time a brilliant white light lit the sky and a distant sound of thunder seemed to echo across the hills. For a second Josh stood there, stunned. What the h.e.l.l?

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" his grandfather yelled from the living room.

"I don't know, Gramps. But both the power and the phone are dead."

Lou and Bart came into the kitchen, both with vaguely worried expressions on their faces. "The phones went out at the same time as the power?"

Josh nodded.

Bart shook his head. "Odd. The phone system is supposed to have its own power supply. Think I'll go take a look around town to see who's in the same boat. Want to come along, Lou?"

"I'm with ya." Lou turned towards the living room. "We're taking off, Joe. We'll call when the phones start up again.""Party p.o.o.pers," Joe grumbled.

Lou grinned. "Take care of the old man, Josh. He's getting a might touchy in his dotage."

"You ain't no spring chicken yourself, Louis Giamarino!"

Lou laughed and waved to Josh as he and Bart went out the back door. "Later, Josh."

Joe yelled from the living room. "d.a.m.n. Josh, come finish the game and we'll wait it out, whatever it is. But open the curtains so we have some more light."

"Come on, Gramps. Let's go find out what's going on. Maybe it's something serious."

Joe snorted. "Forget it, boy. Can't be anything that bad. Besides, I still think I've got you cornered here, no matter what Lou says."

Josh sighed and glanced out the kitchen window. Odd, the sun seemed to be in a different direction than he remembered it being. Josh shrugged and walked back into the living room.

For Colette, Henri and Colas, the strangeness started again when they came across the road. Colette had been lost in thought and did not realize they were on a road until she noticed the change in the sound of the horse's hooves.

"Stop!"

Colas and Henri reined in their horses and watched as Colette slid off her horse and squatted to stare at the black-topped road.

"What is it, Colette? What's wrong?"

"Think, Colas. Where did this road come from? Look at it!"

Colas nodded. "It is very nice. Nice and wide. And very smooth."

Colette got to her feet and looked to the south. The road disappeared around a curve half a mile away. Colette took out her dagger and dug a bit of the black stuff out of the road. She rolled some of it on her fingers. Sticky. She sniffed her sample, then tasted it with her tongue. Tar. It was tar of some kind.

Colette stared at the road. "Henri? Don't you see it?" She paced the width and looked at the edge.

She rolled some of the gravel and tar in her hand again.

"It's about twenty feet wide, and perhaps a little more than a half foot thick." Her eyes closed for a moment, her mind occupied with calculations. When Colette got her answer she shook her head.

No, that's impossible. She looked at the road again, stamped on it with her foot.

Definitely real, she thought wryly. Not impossible.

By now Henri and Colas were staring at her.

Henri c.o.c.ked his head in puzzlement. "See what? It is just a road. A very good road, true, but still . .

"Henri, this road uses more tar for every mile than the annual production from Finland! How rich are these people?"

Henri opened his mouth, then shut it. He understood now what Simon Dubois had meant when he said he was sometimes afraid of his daughter. She thought . . . differently.

Colette looked again to the south and noticed that the road did not follow the exact curve of the hill but cut through a portion of it. It was like a chess problem. Colette was fully focused, gnawing at it like a hungry dog gnaws at a soup bone.

Colette studied the road more carefully. How was it made? Too smooth for slaves or other human labor. Too perfect.

"Machines of some kind," she muttered to herself, "definitely machines. Wherever this road goes we will find machines." Henri stared at Colette again and then shook his head. "Should we stay on the road?"

Colette nodded. "Yes. But on the side, I think. This road is used for more than just carts and wagons."

They followed the road for another mile, pa.s.sing several houses before Colette's words came true.

They could see a river and another road that intersected the one they were on. They were several dozen yards from the intersection when a square metal box on wheels came from the right and moved rapidly through the intersection. The horses spooked slightly at the noise of its pa.s.sing.

Colas' eyes were as round as saucers. "Was that a machine?"

Colette nodded. True, she had expected something, but the reality of it was certainly different than she had imagined. Especially the speed.

"Did you notice the man inside, Henri? I think he was guiding it, like a farmer guides his wagon with reins."

Henri nodded. "What do we do now? Follow it? It's at least heading in the direction of Saalfeld."