Doomsday Book (Oxford Time Travel, #1) - Connie Willis Page 0,11

“I’m waiting for the fix on one of my undergraduates.” He looked at his watch. “It will take at least another hour.”

“You promised you’d take them on a tour of the local bells, sir.”

“There’s really no reason why you need to be here,” Mary said. “I can ring you at Balliol as soon as the fix is in.”

“I’ll come when we have the fix,” Dunworthy said, glaring at Mary. “Show them round the college and then give them lunch. That should take an hour.”

Finch looked unhappy. “They’re only here until four o’clock. They have a handbell concert tonight in Ely, and they’re extremely eager to see Christ Church’s bells.”

“Then take them to Christ Church. Show them Great Tom. Take them up in St. Martin’s tower. Or take them round to New College. I will be there as soon as I can.”

Finch looked like he was going to ask something else and then changed his mind. “I’ll tell them you’ll be there within the hour, sir,” he said and started for the door. Halfway there he stopped and came back. “I almost forgot, sir. The vicar called to ask if you’d be willing to read the Scripture for the Christmas Eve interchurch service. It’s to be at St. Mary the Virgin’s this year.”

“Tell him yes,” Dunworthy said, thankful that he’d given up on the change ringers. “And tell him we’ll need to get into the belfry this afternoon so I can show these Americans the bells.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “What about Iffley? Do you think I should take them out to Iffley? They’ve a very nice eleventh century.”

“By all means,” Dunworthy said. “Take them to Iffley. I will be back as soon as I can.”

Finch opened his mouth and closed it again. “Yes, sir,” he said, and went out the door to the accompaniment of “The Holly and the Ivy.”

“You were a bit hard on him, don’t you think?” Mary asked. “After all, Americans can be terrifying.”

“He’ll be back in five minutes asking me whether he should take them to Christ Church first,” Dunworthy said. “The boy has absolutely no initiative.”

“I thought you admired that in young people,” Mary said wryly. “At any rate, he won’t go running off to the Middle Ages.”

The door opened, and “The Holly and the Ivy” started up again. “That’ll be him wanting to know what he should give them for lunch.”

“Boiled beef and overcooked vegetables,” Mary said. “Americans love to tell stories about our dreadful cooking. Oh, dear.”

Dunworthy looked toward the door. Gilchrist and Latimer stood there, haloed in the gray light from outside. Gilchrist was smiling broadly and saying something over the bells. Latimer struggled to collapse a large black umbrella.

“I suppose we’ve got to be civil and invite them to join us,” Mary said.

Dunworthy reached for his coat. “Be civil if you like. I have no intention of listening to those two congratulating each other for having sent an inexperienced young girl into danger.”

“You’re sounding like you-know-who again,” Mary said. “They wouldn’t be here if anything had gone wrong. Perhaps Badri’s got the fix.”

“It’s too soon for that,” he said, but he sat back down again. “More likely he threw them out so he could get on with it.”

Gilchrist had apparently caught sight of him as he stood up. He half turned, as if to walk back out again, but Latimer was already nearly to the table. Gilchrist followed, no longer smiling.

“Is the fix in?” Dunworthy asked.

“The fix?” Gilchrist said vaguely.

“The fix” Dunworthy said. “The determination of where and when Kivrin is that makes it possible to pull her out again.”

“Your tech said it would take at least an hour to determine the coordinates,” Gilchrist said stuffily. “Does it always take him that long? He said he would come tell us when it was completed, but that the preliminary readings indicate that the drop went perfectly and that there was minimal slippage.”

“What good news!” Mary said, sounding relieved. “Do come sit down. We’ve been waiting for the fix, too, and having a pint. Will you have something to drink?” she asked Latimer, who had got the umbrella down and was fastening the strap.

“Why, I believe I shall,” Latimer said. “This is after all a great day. A drop of brandy, I think. Strong was the wyn, and wel to drinke us leste.” He fumbled with the strap, getting it tangled in the ribs of the umbrella. “At last we have the chance to observe the loss of adjectival inflection and the shift to