Kit only rubbed the side of his nose. "Well, that's a fairly limited beginning, but yes, ten might prove just barely adequate. I speak twenty fluently and can make myself understood in considerably more than that. I did warn you, Margo. Scouting is a scholarly business, above all else. When you're not down time exploring a gate, you're studying. Constantly "
"But
"I don't make up these rules just to upset you."
"I know, I know," she wailed, "I understand that, but..."
"He's right, Miss Margo," the librarian said quietly. "My steadiest customers are never the tourists. They're the guides and the scouts. Particularly the scouts. They spend hours here every day, learning and learning. In fact, if you'll examine the gentlemen at the computers over there or back in the language labs, you'll discover half the scouts who work out of TT-86 on a regular basis. Excuse me, please."
Kit glanced around John Merylbone, a fairly new scout despite his age -- he was pushing fifty had come up to the desk.
"Brian, sorry to interrupt, but I need help. I'm looking for information on early British scholars' costumes. I'd heard there was a good general reference by Cunnington and Lucas from 1978."
Brian stared at the scout for long, unblinking moments, giving the distinct impression that John's request was utterly beneath his notice. Margo whispered, "Isn't that a little rude?"
Kit smiled. "No, actually he's thinking. Watch."
Brian started talking. "Well, yes, that's a very good general reference, but it contains a good bit more than you'll need. Covers all manner of charity costumes, through several centuries, actually. I'd recommend Rymer's Foedera, vol. VII, or Statutes of the Colleges of Oxford for the Royal Commission.-that's translated from the Latin, which is useful-or perhaps Gibson's Statua Antigua Universitatis Oxoniensis. Loggan also did some excellent work in Cantabrigia Illustrata and Oxonia Illustrata."
The librarian was busy jotting down names and titles while he spoke.
"Good grief! He didn't even use the computer!"
Kit only smiled "Don't look so horrified Nobody's asking you to learn as much as Brian knows. Nobody knows as much as Brian Hendrickson. He has a photographic memory. Useful for a research librarian on a time terminal."
"Oh. I was beginning to worry."
"You do that, "Kit laughed "I like it better when you're worried. Proves you're thinking."
She put out a pink tongue. "You're mean and horrible. Why does everybody else like you?"
Kit scratched his head. "Search me. Guess it's my good looks and charm."
Margo actually laughed. When she relaxed, his granddaughter was a remarkably pretty girl, with no trace of that Irish alleycat glare. He sighed, feeling old before he was ready for it.
"What's wrong?" Margo asked.
"Nothing," Kit said, forcing a smile. "Let's set up your study schedule."
Brian returned from helping the other scout and they got down to business. He assigned Margo a language lab, where she was to spend four hours every other day learning the first of the languages on her list. The next four hours of her library days (after lunch, which Kit agreed to have delivered to her from the Neo Edo so she wouldn't need to leave the library) were to be devoted to detailed historical studies.
"Let's start her with American history, since that's what she's likeliest to absorb readily," Brian suggested "Then we'll put her on European history, working backwards from the twentieth century. We'll tackle Africa, Asia, South America, India, and the Middle East a little later in the program, after she's settled down into the study routine and is capable of absorbing cultural detail significantly different from her own."
Kit and Brian agreed she'd be better off leaving the library during the evenings to eat dinner and do homework, and to alternate library days with continued weapons training. With any luck, the physical exercise would leave her tired enough to sleep after homework sessions.
By the time they were done setting up her schedule, Margo was visibly horrified and trying hard not to show it. She gave him a brave smile as they left the library. "One thing's for sure, life'll never be the same around you. Latin, Chinese, and French, oh my..."
"Better that than lions, tigers, or bears," Kit chuckled. "Just remember, you can never truly understand a nation or its people until you can speak its language."
"Right," she sighed, giving him another brave smile. "I just hope scouting is worth all this agony."
Kit resisted the urge to ruffle her short hair. "I doubt you'll be disappointed. Surprised, probably-almost undoubtedly. But disappointed? No, I don't think so. Time travel is never what people expect it to be. And that," he smiled, "is half the fun."
"Well, goodness, I hope so. My head already hurts and I haven't even started yet!"
Kit laughed. "That's because you're stretching your brain, possibly for the first time. Cheer up. By the time you're done, not only will you have the equivalent of several Ph.D.'s you didn't have to pay some university to earn, you'll have the ability to do field research most Ph.D.'s still can't afford to do. Education," he smiled, "is never a waste of time."
She gave him an odd look, but said nothing. Kit found himself fervently hoping London convinced Margo she needed every bit of the "brain work" he and Brian had outlined. Margo loose for a week in London, even with Malcolm Moore along to protect her ...Kit was so apprehensive, before he went to bed that night he found himself standing in the living room doorway, just watching her sleep.
Young, vulnerable ...
He turned away silently and went to bed.
But not to sleep.
Malcolm came for Margo early in the morning the day the Britannia Gate was due to open.
"Hi!" The world was wonderful this morning. Today was the day she would finally step through a gate into history.
"Sleep well?" Malcolm asked.
Margo laughed. "I was so excited I hardly closed my eyes all night."
"Thought as much," he chuckled. "Kit up yet?"
"In the shower."
"All packed?"
"Yes!"
"Good. We have one last appointment before we go."
Uh-oh. Margo regarded him suspiciously. "What is it?
A pained smile came and went. "You're not going to like it, but I think it's vital."
"What?"
"We need to visit Paula Booker."
Margo wondered who the devil that was. "For?"
"Your hair."
Margo touched her short, flame-colored hair. "What's wrong with my hair?"
"Nothing-for here and now. Everything, for down time. That color stands out We want to be inconspicuous. The less noticed you are, the better."
"What are you going to do about it? Dye it?" Margo asked sarcastically.
"Yep.."
She stared "Oh, no."
Malcolm sighed. "I knew this wouldn't be well received. That's why I wanted Kit's opinion."
"On what?" Kit asked, emerging from the bathroom. He was-uncharacteristically-clad only in a towel. His hair was still wet and he hadn't shaved yet Margo stared, knowing it was rude, but she couldn't help it
There were scars. Terrible ones.
"Margo's hair," Malcolm said. "I think Paula should dye it."
Margo managed do drag her gaze off Kits whip-scarred torso and met his gaze. He ignored her stricken look and merely studied her critically. "Yes," he said slowly, "I didn't think it was too important yet, but you're probably right. She's awfully noticeable."
"Thanks for the compliment," Margo muttered. The last thing she wanted to be was "noticeable" if attracting attention earned her scars like Kit's, but the timing was rotten. She'd spent the last twenty-four hours trying hopelessly to memorize Latin declensions and conjugations and whatever else all those verb and noun forms were called. All those fickle, changeable word endings left her head spinning. She'd tried-really tried and now as a reward they wanted to dye her best feature some hideous, drab color to match the clothes they'd picked for her to wear.