Free Atlantis Endgame by Andre Norton, Sherwood Smith Page B

various ages swarmed about the bigger piles, some putting down big jagged pieces of stone, others taking them to carts and hauling them away—instant recycling.
    Eveleen realized that Linnea had become so mesmerized watching the cloth makers, the potters, the seed grinders and bakers, she'd forgotten about their orders to watch for signs of Baldies' presence before the bedazzlement of seeing living, breathing people performing the homey, everyday activities that scholars far on the other side of the mists of time would spend hours speculating about.
    Eveleen didn't remind her. Experience had taught her that this sort of academic reverie was actually trustworthy: an expert would see an anomaly at least as fast as, maybe even faster than, the more mission-focused observer. It was just very slow going. After a time, Eveleen got tired of watching bartering and looked around for signs of rebuilding. She wondered why Linnea seemed so intent on these little exchanges of goods for goods, until she finally realized that what Linnea was looking for was evidence of someone writing.
    A flare of humor almost caused Eveleen to laugh. Linnea Edel was an unreconstructed academic, even after their hasty training: she was not looking for Baldies; she was on the lookout for someone carving Linear A hieroglyphs into clay, so that she could confirm or refute recent scholarship on its decoding!
    Ought she to say something? No. Her instinct was good. If Linnea was watching people that closely, she might notice something Eveleen wouldn't.
    On they walked, back and forth up the hill, along narrow streets with hot sun reflecting heat waves in almost visible sheets. Twice minor tremors caused people to halt, to shift their eyes anxiously up, or down, to pause in conversation, but when the earthquake died, work and talk resumed, in several languages.
    "... I heard the goddess has still not spoken," an old woman told another in Ancient Greek, as they portioned out water in tiny red-clay cups from a great urn.
    "Not for three moons. It is why my sister and her family decided to sail. I believe we must wait and be patient. She has always spoken to us before."
    "True, true. She will speak when speech becomes necessary. So I tell my son, who fears for the children. He says times have become so strange, with both fire and water rising from the earth, and rocks falling from the sky, he fears the goddess has departed, leaving us to the fire spirits."
    A long sigh was the answer, and the two women turned away.
    Eveleen and Linnea walked on, Eveleen watching the movements of the people. Un-self-conscious, busy, socializing as they worked, they all appeared to be genuine Kallistans. Eveleen knew that she must look for anything out of place, but she kept envisioning Baldies shrouded in cloth, lurking about on the edges of crowds. Watching for them? Surely they would not interact with the people any more than she and Linnea must, except in the most superficial manner. We must not stand out, Eveleen thought. We are aliens to the Baldies, which is a kind of protection if we are careful not to make any mistakes. If they are searching for us, we must remain indistinguishable from all these others.
    "Grapes?" A gentle hand nudged her arm. "Grapes? Grown well away from the smoke, tasting sweet?"
    A young girl looked up into Eveleen's face, gold earrings very much like her own swinging next to dusky-colored cheeks. Candid brown eyes assessed her, and then the girl repeated her question in two other tongues.
    Eveleen wet her lips, and then said in Ancient Greek, "I have been thinking about grapes."
    The dark brows arched in surprise. "Ah! You will find that mine are sweetest. Here. Taste one." Nimble fingers twisted at a plump grape at the top of the basket.
    Eveleen smiled as she glimpsed the older, slightly withered ones beneath. The girl's sales wiles would probably work better on those young men over there, building the ship, she thought. But she tasted the grape, which