The air inside the shields glittered with sudden condensation.
“Don’t go,” Dunworthy said.
TRANSCRIPT FROM THE DOMESDAY BOOK
(000008–000242)
First entry. 22 December, 2054. Oxford. This will be a record of my historical observations of life in Oxfordshire, England, 13 December, 1320, to 28 December, 1320 (Old Style).
(Break)
Mr. Dunworthy, I’m calling this the Domesday Book because it’s supposed to be a record of life in the Middle Ages, which is what William the Conqueror’s survey turned out to be, even though he intended it as a method of making sure he got every pound of gold and tax his tenants owed him.
I am also calling it the Domesday Book because I would imagine that’s what you’d like to call it, you are so convinced something awful’s going to happen to me. I’m watching you in the observation area right now, telling poor Dr. Ahrens all the dreadful dangers of the 1300s. You needn’t bother. She’s already warned me about time lag and every single mediaeval disease in gruesome detail, even though I’m supposed to be immune to all of them. And warned me about the prevalence of rape in the 1300s. And when I tell her I’ll be perfectly all right she doesn’t listen to me either. I will be perfectly all right, Mr. Dunworthy.
Of course you will already know that, and that I made it back in one piece and all according to schedule, by the time you get to hear this, so you won’t mind my teasing you a little. I know you are only concerned for me, and I know very well that without all your help and preparation I wouldn’t make it back in one piece or at all.
I am therefore dedicating the Domesday Book to you, Mr. Dunworthy. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be standing here in kirtle and cloak, talking into this corder, waiting for Badri and Mr. Gilchrist to finish their endless calculations and wishing they would hurry so I can go.
(Break)
I’m here.
2
“Well,” Mary said on a long, drawn-out breath. “I could do with a drink.”
“I thought you had to go fetch your great-nephew,” Dunworthy said, still watching the place where Kivrin had been. The air glittered with ice particles inside the veil of shields. Near the floor, frost had formed on the inside of the thin-glass.
The unholy three of Mediaeval were still watching the screens, even though they showed nothing but the flat line of arrival. “I needn’t fetch Colin until three,” Mary said. “You look as though you could use a bit of bracing up yourself, and the Lamb and Cross is just down the street.”
“I want to wait until he has the fix,” Dunworthy said, watching the tech.
There was still no data on the screens. Badri was frowning. Montoya looked at her digital and said something to Gilchrist. Gilchrist nodded, and she scooped up a bag that had been lying half under the console, waved good-bye to Latimer, and went out through the side door.
“Unlike Montoya, who obviously cannot wait to return to her dig, I would like to stay until I’m certain Kivrin got through without incident,” Dunworthy said.
“I’m not suggesting you go back to Balliol,” Mary said, wrestling her way into her coat, “but the fix will take at least an hour, if not two, and in the meantime, your standing here won’t hurry it along. Watched pot and all that. The pub’s just across the way. It’s very small and quite nice, the sort of place that doesn’t put up Christmas decorations or play artificial bell music.” She held his overcoat out to him. “We’ll have a drink and something to eat, and then you can come back here and pace holes in the floor until the fix comes in.”
“I want to wait here,” he said, still looking at the empty net. “Why didn’t Basingame have a locator implanted in his wrist? The Head of the History Faculty has no business going off on holiday and not even a number where he can be reached.”
Gilchrist straightened himself up from the still-unchanging screen and clapped Badri on the shoulders. Latimer blinked as if he wasn’t sure where he was. Gilchrist shook his hand, smiling expansively. He started across the floor toward the thin-glass partition, looking smug.
“Let’s go,” Dunworthy said, snatching his overcoat from Mary and opening the door. A blast of “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night” hit them. Mary darted through the door as though she were escaping, and Dunworthy pulled it to behind them and followed Mary