"That's the thing, sir," Andrews said. There was a visual, but it was too fuzzy to read his expression. "I don't think I'd better. I've been watching all about the quarantine on the vids, sir. They say this Indian flu is extremely dangerous."

"You needn't come in contact with any of the cases," Dunworthy said. "I can arrange for you to go straight to Brasenose's laboratory. You'll be perfectly safe. This is extremely important."

"Yes, sir, but the vidders say it might have been caused by the university's heating system."

"The heating system?" Dunworthy said. "The university has no heating system, and the individual ones of the colleges are over a hundred years old and incapable of heating, let alone infecting." The bellringers turned as one to look at him, but they did not break rhythm. "It has absolutely nothing to do with the heating system. Or India, or the wrath of God. It began in South Carolina. The vaccine is already on the way. It's perfectly safe."

Andrews looked stubborn. "Nevertheless, sir, I don't think it would be wise for me to come."

The bellringers abruptly stopped. "Sorry," Ms. Piantini said, and they started again.

"This fix must be read. We have an historian in 1320, and we don't know how much slippage there has been. I'll see to it that you're paid for hazardous duty," Dunworthy said, and then realized that was exactly the wrong approach. "I can arrange for you to be isolated or wear SPG's or — "

"I could read the fix from here," Andrews said. "I've a friend who'll set up the access connections. She's a student at Shrewsbury." He paused. "It's the best I can do. Sorry."

"Sorry," Ms. Piantini said again.

"No, no, you ring in second's place," Ms. Taylor said. "You dodge two-three up and down and three-four down and then lead a whole pull. And keep your eyes on the other ringers, not on the floor. One-two-and-off!" They started their minuet again.

"I simply can't take the risk," Andrews said.

It was clear he couldn't be persuaded. "What is the name of your friend at Shrewsbury?" Dunworthy asked.

"Polly Wilson," he said, sounding relieved. He gave Dunworthy her number. "Tell her you need a remote read, IA inquiry and bridge transmit. I'll stay by this number." He moved to ring off.

"Wait!" Dunworthy said. The bellringers glanced disapprovingly at him. "What would the maximal slippage be on a drop to 1320?"

"I've no idea," Andrews said promptly. "Slippage is difficult to predict. There are so many factors."

"An estimate," Dunworthy said. "Could it be twenty-eight years?"

"Twenty-eight years?" Andrews said, and the amazed tone sent a gust of relief through Dunworthy. "Oh, I wouldn't think so. There's a general tendency toward greater slippage the farther back you go, but the increase isn't exponential. The parameter checks will tell you."

"Mediaeval didn't do any."

"They sent an historian back without parameter checks?" Andrews sounded shocked.

"Without parameter checks, without unmanneds, without recon tests," Dunworthy said. "Which is why it's essential I get this fix read. I want you to do something for me."

Andrews stiffened.

"You don't have to come here to do it," he said rapidly. "Jesus has an on-site set up in London. I want you to go over there and run parameter checks on a drop to noon, 12 December, 1320."

"What are the locational coordinates?"

"I don't know. I'll get them when I go to Brasenose. I want you to telephone me here as soon as you've determined maximal slippage. Can you do that?"

"Yes," he said, but he was looking doubtful again.

"Good. I'll telephone Polly Wilson. Remote read, IA inquiry, bridge transmit. I'll ring you back as soon as she's got it set up at Brasenose," Dunworthy said, and rang off before Andrews could renege.

He held onto the receiver, watching the bellringers. The order changed each time, but Ms. Piantini apparently did not lose count again.

He telephoned Polly Wilson and gave her the specifications Andrews had dictated, wondering if she had been watching the vidders, too, and would be afraid of Brasenose's heating system, but she said promptly, "I'll need to find a gateway. I'll meet you there in forty-five minutes."

He left the bellringers still bobbing and went over to Brasenose. The rain had slowed to a fine mist, and there were more people on the streets, though many of the shops were closed. Whoever was in charge of the Carfax carillon had either come down with the flu or forgotten about it because of the quarantine. It was still playing "Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella," or possibly "O Tannenbaum."

There were three picketers outside an Indian grocer's and a half-dozen more outside Brasenose with a large banner they were holding between them that read, "TIME TRAVEL IS A HEALTH THREAT." He recognized the young woman on the end as one of the medics from the ambulance.

Heating systems and the EC and time travel. During the Pandemic it had been the American germ warfare program and air conditioning. Back in the Middle Ages they had blamed the Jews and the appearance of comets for their epidemics. Doubtless when the fact that the virus had originated in South Carolina was revealed, the Confederacy, or Southern fried chicken, would be blamed.

He went in the gate to the porter's desk. The Christmas tree was sitting on one end of it, the angel perched atop it. "I have a student from Shrewsbury meeting me to set up some communications equipment," he told the porter. "We'll need to be let into the laboratory."

"The laboratory is restricted, sir," the porter said.

"Restricted?"

"Yes, sir. It's been locked and no one's allowed in."

"Why? What's happened?"

"It's because of the epidemic, sir."

"The epidemic!?"

"Yes, sir. Perhaps you'd better speak with Mr. Gilchrist, sir."

"Perhaps I had. Tell him I'm here, and I need to be let into the laboratory."

"I'm afraid he's not here just now."

"Where is he?"

"At the Infirmary, I believe. He — "

Dunworthy didn't wait to hear the rest. Halfway to the Infirmary it occurred to him that Polly Wilson would be left waiting with no idea where he'd gone, and as he came up to the hospital, it came to him that Gilchrist might be there because he'd come down with the virus.

Good, he thought, it's what he deserves, but Gilchrist was in the little waiting room, hale and hearty, wearing an NHS face mask, rolling up his sleeve in preparation for the inoculation a nurse was holding.

"Your porter told me the laboratory's restricted," he said, stepping between them. "I need to get into it. I've found a tech to read Kivrin's fix."

Gilchrist looked belligerent. "It was my understanding that your tech had read the fix before he fell ill."

"He did, but he's in no condition to tell us what it said." And there's something wrong with it, he thought. "Andrews has agreed to read it by remote, but we need to set up transmission equipment."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Gilchrist said. "The laboratory is under quarantine until the source of the virus is determined."

"The source of the virus?" he said incredulously. "The virus originated in South Carolina."

"We will not be certain of that until we've obtained positive identification. Until then, I felt it was best to minimize all possible risks to the university by restricting access to the laboratory. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm here to receive my immune system enhancement." He started past Dunworthy toward the nurse.

Dunworthy put out his arm to stop him. "What risks?"

"There has been considerable public concern that the virus was transmitted through the net."

"Public concern? Do you mean those three halfwits with the banner outside your gate?" he shouted.

"This is a hospital, Mr. Dunworthy," the nurse said. "Please keep your voice down."