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Dianora was sure she couldn’t keep up this double life for too long. She’d be rotated off the planet eventually in any case and departing employees went through a full body scan to ensure they weren’t taking any forbidden items, and their possessions were searched. She couldn’t hide the ring. With a shiver she remembered how Garrin had told her the legend of the woman who received the gem from the AO lord in the first place and how the last time she tried to use it to go to her lover, the stone refused to take her. If the same thing happened to her, she’d be crushed.
“But the man is dead and gone.” She made herself state the ugly truth.
Her alarm shrilled, startling her into a stifled scream. Time to rise and shine and start a new day working on the dig. Never mind she hadn’t slept a wink.
Holding her head, she staggered to the table and silenced the alarm. How much of the wine did I drink anyway? As she stumbled toward the bed, she nearly tripped over an object lying on the floor and saw the goblet on its side, gleaming in the light. Picking it up with trembling fingers, she caught a whiff of the wine. “What in the seven hells do I do with this now?” No one would ever believe it had been mixed in with her pile of dirty pottery and she couldn’t plant it anywhere on the dig because it wouldn’t belong there and would contaminate the accuracy of the site. With a heavy heart she buried it in her container of personal items, wrapped in a tee shirt, as a problem to be solved later. Maybe she’d stick it in the mud at the river site and then find it, which wouldn’t be as bad as placing it in the main dig.
Dianora took a medinject of headclear and a fast trip through the refresher, changed clothes, making the sure the ring was safely tucked into a tightly closed pocket and headed for the mess tent.
Derek caught up to her right outside. “Whoa, you look like you had a rough night,” he said bluntly. He leaned closer. “You haven’t been indulging in the feelgoods too much, have you? Dr. Soren can’t abide excess imbibing. We had a serious problem on our last dig, on Hackent Nine and he nearly lost his contract with the Sectors because of it.”
Dianora wondered if the refresher had failed to remove the fumes of the powerful Argorn wine. His guess was so right on the nose. She denied the allegation anyway. “I have a darn head cold that won’t quit,” she said, sniffling dramatically. “Maybe it’s allergies. We’re in the middle of a dense forest after all. And all the dust I stir up every day cleaning the artifacts doesn’t help.”
“Wear a mask,” he answered.
She made a face as she moved through the breakfast line. “I hate those things, so restrictive.”
Determined to allay his suspicions, she made herself keep the conversation going. “What are you working on these days while I clean shards?”
“We’re still in the grand chamber, trying to translate the inscriptions. Found intriguing new stuff. Apparently ole Garrin did manage to win a few battles against whoever his enemy was, before the end came.”
“The Craadil,” she said automatically, ignoring his dismissive reference to Garrin.
Derek stared at her, eyes narrowed. “How did you know? We haven’t published any of the translation to the shared database yet.”
“Lucky guess. I saw the name somewhere or I heard it.” Dianora’s double life was catching up to her now as Derek continued to eye her dubiously. “Anyway, it’s an exciting breakthrough for the team. Congratulations.”
After a quick meal with lots of synth caff, Dianora poured herself a cup to go and headed for her station. There was a new pallet of artifacts waiting for her and she had to spend the first hour unpacking all the items and adding them to her ever growing stack. Her supervisor poked her head in while she was in the midst of this effort.
“You’re falling a bit behind,” Isabel said, eyeing the pile and then pivoting to survey the completed items. She made a negative tsking sound and shook her head.
“There was a new shipment from the dig today but I’m going to work late and catch up,” Dianora answered, continuing to clean the item in her hand despite her fatigue and a growing headache.
“Anything interesting? Anything with Garrin’s name on it?”
“Sorry, no, nothing but ordinary pot sherds. We must be excavating his kitchen,” Dianora said with a laugh.
“Many times the most interesting stories and best information came from garbage middens,” Isabel said in mild reproof. “Archaeology 101.”
But when you’ve drunk wine with a legendary king from a golden goblet, it’s impossible to be satisfied with the broken crockery. Dianora had a sudden longing to know what Garrin was doing now, in his own time. She wanted to be there, not here, which gave her serious pause. In the space of a few days the damn ring had upended her entire existence. It had to be cursed, no matter what Garrin’s family thought about it.
“Well, carry on. I’ll expect an update tonight.” Isabel left with a breezy wave.
Dianora set aside a few loose coral beads which had been inside one of the pots, recorded the minor find and set to work with determination. This was her chosen career, she had to buckle down again because obviously her superiors were dubious about her after the last few days. Her life was here, not in a nearly mythical past. But increasingly as she worked, her mind wandered to Garrin and the glimpses she’d had of the world in which he dwelt. She wanted to know more, not merely as an archaeologist but as a woman drawn to a highly interesting man.
In the middle of the afternoon as she set the tenth identical pot on the shelf after cleaning it, Dianora was strongly tempted to throw the next one on the floor. This was all so pointless, when she could simply slide on the ring and go to ancient Belmane.
“I need to plan better though,” she said out loud. “Not just travel on a whim. Maybe take a few things in my pockets he could put to good use. He already thinks I’m some kind of semi divine spirit, so I should deliver a few items which would seem magical in his time.” She wasn’t worried about messing up the historical record, figuring anything she could carry on her person probably wouldn’t survive the thousands of years into this time, if the objects were even found. Human artifacts, even the high tech ones of her time, didn’t have the sheer durability of the AO devices. And so far her trips appeared not to have upset history too much, despite her saving his life in the dungeon. His civilization remained dead and long gone.
Intrigued, she began a list of what to take. She needed sleep desperately so perhaps she wouldn’t go until tomorrow night, which gave her time to assemble a few useful items. She’d have to trust Garrin would survive in the midst of his desperate war until she arrived again. The ring won’t take me if I’m too late.
Reinvigorated, she devoted her full attention to her real work and made a big dent in the pile of artifacts. By the end of the day she was nearly caught up and left her work station whistling cheerfully, buoyed by the idea of seeing Garrin one more time, in about twenty-four hours. Figuring she needed to mend fences with her colleagues, as her behavior had been odd for the last few days, she ate dinner in the mess tent and then participated in a few lively card games, making and losing small bets to the more skillful players’ amusement. Pleading her mythical head cold, she left early and headed for bed. Walking away from the noisy gathering, she reflected again how unreal being here now felt. Garrin was in the real world where momentous events were happening and the stakes were serious, nothing like few credits wagered on a card game and placating judgmental co-workers doubting her work ethic.
Pausing in the center of the camp, she tried to orient herself to how the area would have looked in Garrin’s time but it was nearly impossible to associate any of the mounds and partially excavated ruins to the fortress where she’d first seen him. And her second trip had been to a mountain fortification, like a medieval castle from the small amount she’d seen.
With a shrug, Dianora continued to her tent. Tomorrow night she’d see more and make every effort to use her training as an observer to soak in details. She had to be careful here in the present not to know too much. That was clear after the way Derek reacted to her slip with the name of the ancient enemy.
But no one would ever guess I was time traveling.
