Caleb stared uncomprehendingly.

Jared ticked off two fingers, "We resolved the paradox. Then there’s Mike, and Cathy. They’ll have very different lives this time. Who knows what they’ll do, now." He ticked off another finger, "They will have a child. Not a paradox this time. A brand new strand."

Caleb held out his hands, "And number four?"

"The trucker’s baby. His wife is with child. She’s thinking about aborting." Jared squatted and drew a line in the dust. "He gets in an accident with a fatality. It sets him back about two days, and by the time a new truck is lined up to take his load and his truck is fixed, he gets home four days later. Two days too late to convince her not to have the abortion."

Caleb got it. He began to shake his head.

Jared drew a new line at an angle from the first, "He will now get home in time to talk her out of it, and the baby is born. His name, coincidently, turns out to be Michael as well. That baby grows up to be a genius, and he has big plans for the world. He does some things downstream that the committee considers very substantial."

Caleb laughed, "I admit it. You are good."

Jared accepted the praise of his junior partner with aplomb, "Athena, am I cleared to jump beyond the restriction zone?"

"Permission granted."

"Good, set jump for Rouen, France, Noon, May 29th, 1431."

Jared stretched, readying himself. "You know something? I fell in love in the desert, once. I never should have let her get away."

Caleb was not impressed. "So, what is your strategy this time?"

"I’m going to speak in her defense."

Caleb was taken aback, "You?"

Jared stretched again, "Well, not as me of course. As an emissary of God. An archangel. That smug, self righteous priest, Cauchon wants a miracle, I’m going to give him one."

Caleb paused, considering. It was a new approach, at least, "Which archangel?"

Jared began to shimmer, "Michael, of course."

Pierre Cauchon bellowed in the dim chamber, "Joanne, I order you to answer! On whose authority did you commit these crimes against the crown!?!"

The nineteen year old woman in men’s clothing faced him squarely, chin set defiantly, absolutely fearless, "Je suis cy envoye’e de par dieu, le roy du ciel." (I am sent here by God, the king of heaven.)