Dooms Day Book

“We found you a cloak,” Colin said. “Mr. Finch borrowed it of the Classical Theatre Society.” He shook it out. It was Victorian, black and lined in red silk. He draped it over Dunworthy’s shoulders.

“What production did they put on? Dracula?”

The ambulance lurched to a stop, and the medic yanked open the doors. Colin helped Dunworthy down, holding up the train of the voluminous cloak like a pageboy. They ducked in under the gate. The rain pattered loudly on the stone overhead and under it was a clanging sound.

“What’s that?” Dunworthy asked, peering out into the dark quad.

“‘When At Last My Savior Cometh,’” Colin said. “The Americans are practicing it for some church thing. Necrotic, isn’t it?”

“Mrs. Gaddson said they were practicing at all hours, but I’d no idea she meant five in the morning.”

“The concert’s tonight,” Colin said.

“Tonight?” Dunworthy said, and realized it was the fifteenth. The sixth on the Julian calendar. Epiphany, the Arrival of the Wise Men.

Finch hurried toward them with an umbrella. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, holding it over Dunworthy, “but I couldn’t find an umbrella. You’ve no idea how many of the detainees go off and forget them. Especially the Americans—”

Dunworthy started across the quad. “Is everything ready?”

“The med support’s not here yet,” Finch said, attempting to keep the umbrella over Dunworthy’s head, “but William Gaddson just telephoned to say it was all arranged and she’d be here shortly.”

Dunworthy would not have been surprised if he had said the sister had volunteered for the job. “I do hope William never decides to take to a life of crime,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t think he would, sir. His mother would never allow it.” He ran a few steps, trying to keep up. “Mr. Chaudhuri’s running the preliminary coordinates. And Ms. Montoya’s here.”

He stopped. “Montoya? What is it?”

“I don’t know, sir. She said she had information for you.”

Not now, he thought. Not when we’re this close.

He went in the laboratory. Badri was at the console, and Montoya, wearing her terrorist shirt and muddy jeans, was leaning over him, watching the screen. Badri said something to her, and she shook her head and looked at her digital. She glanced up and saw Dunworthy, and an expression of compassion came into her face. She stood up and reached in the pocket of her shirt.

No, Dunworthy thought.

She walked over to him. “I didn’t know you were planning this,” she said, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. “I want to help.” She handed him the paper. “This is what information Kivrin had to work with when she went through.”

He looked at the paper in his hand. It was a map.

“This is the drop.” She pointed to a cross on a black line. “And this is Skendgate. You’ll recognize it by the church. It’s Norman, with murals above the rood screen and a statue of St. Anthony.” She smiled at him. “The patron saint of lost objects. I found it yesterday.”

She pointed to several other crosses. “If by some chance she didn’t go to Skendgate, the most likely villages are Esthcote, Henefelde, and Shrivendun. I’ve listed their distinguishing landmarks on the back.”

Badri stood up and came over. He looked even frailer than he had in the ward, if that were possible, and he moved slowly, like the old man he had become. “I’m still getting minimal slippage, no matter what variables I feed in,” he said. He put his hand under his ribs. “I’m running an intermittent, opening for five minutes at two-hour intervals. That way we can hold the net open for up to twenty-four hours, thirty-six if we’re lucky.”

Dunworthy wondered how many of those two-hour intervals Badri would hold up for. He looked done in already.

“When you see the shimmer or the beginnings of moisture condensation, move into the rendezvous area,” Badri said.

“What if it’s dark?” Colin asked. He had taken off the lab coat, and Dunworthy saw that he was in his squire’s costume.

“You should still be able to see the shimmer, and we’ll call out to you,” Badri said. He grunted softly and put his hand to his side again. “You’ve been immunized?”

“Yes.”

“Good. All we’re waiting for then is the med support.” He looked hard at Dunworthy. “Are you sure you’re well enough to do this?”

“Are you?” Dunworthy asked.

The door opened and William’s nurse came in wearing a slick. She blushed when she saw Dunworthy. “William said you needed med support. Where would you like me to set up?”

I must remember to warn Kivrin about him, Dunworthy thought. Badri showed her where he wanted her, and Colin ran out after her equipment.

Montoya led Dunworthy over to a chalked circle under the shields. “Are you going to wear your spectacles?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can dig them up in your churchyard.”

“I’m certain they won’t be there,” she said solemnly. “Do you want to sit or lie down?”

He thought of Kivrin, lying with her arm across her face, helpless and blind. “I’ll stand,” he said.

Colin came back in with a steamer trunk. He set it down by the console and came over to the net. “You’ve no business going by yourself,” he said.