"Beata," she thought he said and tried to think of the next line, but it didn't begin with "blessed."

"What?" she said, leaning over him.

"In the last days," he said, his voice blurred by his swollen tongue.

She leaned closer.

"I feared that God would forsake us utterly."

And he has, she thought. She wiped at his mouth and chin with the tail of her jerkin. He has.

"But in His great mercy He did not," he swallowed again, "but sent His saint unto us."

He raised his head and coughed, and blood rushed out over both of them, saturating his chest and her knees. She wiped at it frantically, trying to stop it, trying to keep his head up, and she couldn't see through her tears to wipe the blood away.

"And I'm no use," she said, wiping at her tears.

"Why do you weep?" he said.

"You saved my life," she said, and her voice caught in a sob, "and I can't save yours."

"All men must die," Roche said, "and none, nor even Christ, can save them."

"I know," she said. She cupped her hand under her face, trying to catch her tears. They collected on her hand and fell dripping onto Roche's neck.

"Yet have you saved me," he said, and his voice sounded clearer. "From fear." He took a gurgling breath. "And unbelief."

She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand and took hold of Roche's hand. It felt cold and already stiff.

"I am most blessed of all men," he said and closed his eyes.

Kivrin shifted a little so her back was against the wall. It was dark outside, no light at all coming in through the narrow windows. Lady Imeyne's candle sputtered and then flamed again. She moved Roche's head so it didn't push against her ribs. He groaned, and his hand jerked as if to free itself of hers, but she held on. The candle flickered into sudden brightness and left them in darkness.

I don't think I'm going to make it back, Mr. Dunworthy. Roche told me where the drop is, but I've broken some ribs, I think, and all the horses are gone. I don't think I can get up on Roche's donkey without a saddle.

I'm going to try to see to it that Ms. Montoya finds this. Tell Mr. Latimer adjectival inflection was still prominent in 1348. And tell Mr. Gilchrist he was wrong. The statistics weren't exaggerated.

I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened. I know you would have come to get me if you could, but I couldn't have gone anyway, not with Agnes ill.

I wanted to come, and if I hadn't, they would have been all alone, and nobody would have ever known how frightened and brave and irreplaceable they were.

It's strange. When I couldn't find the drop and the plague came, you seemed so far away I would not ever be able to find you again. But I know now that you were here all along, and that nothing, not the Black Death or seven hundred years, nor death nor things to come nor any other creature could ever separate me from your caring and concern. It was with me every minute.

"Colin!" Dunworthy shouted, grabbing Colin's arm as he dived under the drape and into the net, head down. "What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

Colin twisted free of his grasp. "I don't think you should go alone!"

"You can't just break through the net! This isn't a quarantine perimeter. What if the net had opened? You could have been killed!" He took hold of Colin's arm again and started toward the console. "Badri! Hold the drop!"

Badri was not there. Dunworthy squinted nearsightedly at where the console had been. They were in a forest, surrounded by trees. There was snow on the ground, and the air sparkled with crystals.

"If you go alone, who'll take care of you?" Colin said. "What if you have a relapse?" He looked past Dunworthy, and his mouth fell open. "Are we there?"

Dunworthy let go of Colin's arm and grabbed in his jerkin for his spectacles.

"Badri!" he shouted. "Open the drop!" He put on his spectacles. They were covered with frost. He yanked them off again and scraped at the lenses. "Badri!"

"Where are we?" Colin asked.

Dunworthy hooked his spectacles over his ears and looked around at the trees. They were ancient, the ivy twining their trunks silver with frost. There was no sign of Kivrin.

He had expected her to be here, which was ridiculous. They had already opened the drop and not found her, but he had hoped that when she realized where she was, she would come back to the drop and wait. But she wasn't here, and there was no sign she had ever been.

The snow they were standing in was smooth and free of footprints. It was deep enough to hide any she might have left before it fell, but it wasn't deep enough to hide the smashed cart and the scattered boxes. And there was no sign of the Oxford-Bath road.

"I don't know where we are," he said.

"Well, I know it's not Oxford," Colin said, stamping through the snow. "Because it's not raining."

Dunworthy looked up through the trees at the pale, clear sky. If there had been the same amount of slippage as in Kivrin's drop, it would be midmorning.

Colin darted off through the snow toward a thicket of reddish willows.

"Where are you going?" Dunworthy said.

"To find a road. The drop's supposed to be near a road, isn't it?" He plunged into the thicket and disappeared.

"Colin!" he shouted, starting after him. "Come back here."

"Here it is!" Colin called from somewhere beyond the willows. "The road's here!"

"Come back here!" Dunworthy shouted.

Colin reappeared, holding the willows apart.

"Come here," he said more calmly.

"It goes up a hill," he said, squeezing through the willows into the clearing. "We can climb it and see where we are."

He was already wet, his brown coat covered with snow from the willows, and he looked wary, braced for bad news.

"You're sending me back, aren't you?"

"I must," Dunworthy said, but his heart sank at the prospect. Badri would not have the drop open for at least two hours, and he was not certain how long it would stay open. He didn't have two hours to spare, waiting here to send Colin through, and he couldn't leave him behind. "You're my responsibility."

"And you're mine," Colin said stubbornly. "Aunt Mary told me to take care of you. What if you have a relapse?"

"You don't understand. The Black Death — "

"It's all right. Really. I've had the streptomycin and all that. I made William have his nurse give them to me. You can't send me back now, the drop isn't open, and it's too cold to just stay here and wait for an hour. If we go look for Kivrin now, we might have found her by then."

He was right about their not being able to remain here. The cold was already seeping through the outlandish Victorian cape, and Colin's burlap coat was even less protection than his old jacket and as wet.

"We'll go to the top of the hill," he said, "but first we must mark the clearing so we can find it again. And you can't go running off like that. I want you in sight at all times. I don't have time to go looking for you as well."

"I won't get lost," Colin said, rummaging in his pack. He held up a flat rectangle. "I brought a locator. It's already set to home in on the clearing."

He held the willows apart for Dunworthy, and they went out to the road. It was scarcely a cowpath and covered with snow unmarked except by the tracks of squirrels and a dog or possibly a wolf. Colin walked obediently at Dunworthy's side till they were halfway up the hill and then couldn't restrain himself and took off running.

Dunworthy trudged after him, fighting the tightness already in his chest. The trees stopped halfway up the hill, and the wind began where they left off. It was bitingly cold.