Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [34]
Arcetri was located in northern Italy, on the southern edge of Florence. Shel had prepared a chart of the area, which he’d spread across his kitchen table. The chart showed roads thought to be in existence during the early years of the seventeenth century. “We want to arrive as close to Arcetri as we can,” he said. “Preferably without showing up in the central square.”
“You got us onto Forty-fourth Street in New York.”
“I’d made the jump before, so I could get readings on the location. Once I’ve been somewhere, I can lock it in.” He pointed at an area close to several roads. “This is what I’m aiming for. If I’ve got it right, we’ll arrive within a few miles, just after dawn, during the early spring of 1640.” He handed Dave his converter. “It’s ready to go. Once we get there, it’ll automatically reset to return you here. If there’s any kind of problem, anything at all, just punch the button, and it’ll bring you back. Okay?”
Shel put a photo of his father into an envelope and slipped it into his pocket. They were dressed in the gear they’d bought at Emilio’s. And both now sported beards. “You look good,” said Dave.
“Ah, yes.” He took out the second converter. “The latest styles for the interdimensional traveler.”
CHAPTER 9
I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.
—GALILEO
IT was raining. Pouring. They were in a glade, lined by a few small trees, in the early summer of 1640. “I don’t guess you thought to bring umbrellas?” asked Dave.
The sky was dark, and a strong wind blew through the branches. Shel looked for shelter. “That hillside.” He pointed. “Might be a grotto.”
They started trudging toward it, but Dave stopped. “I have a better idea.”
“Make it fast, okay?”
“Sure. The storm should be over in an hour or so.”
Shel pulled his huke tightly around him. Stroked his beard. (Helen did not approve of it.) “What are you talking about?”
It was six in the morning. Dave was resetting for eight. “We’ve got time machines. We don’t have to wait for storms to pass.”
“Of course. Yeah. I wasn’t using my head.”
Shel locked his unit on eight o’clock and they went. The gray light dimmed, the storm went away, and they were standing in wet grass. The sky was still pallid, but it was brighter than it had been. “You know,” Dave said, “these things really have possibilities.”
Shel pulled out a map and compass, studied both for a minute, and then pointed toward some distant hills. “That way,” he said. “North.”
“How do you know where we are?”
“I’m assuming we landed more or less where we expected to.”
Thunder rumbled somewhere. “Shel, what’s your father going to say when he sees me?”
“I think he’ll be too relieved at being rescued to worry about it. Though if I know him, we’ll both get lectured.”
“Do you think he’ll still want to disassemble the converters? When we get home?”
“Probably. But let’s do this one step at a time and find him first.”
EVENTUALLY, they came across a road. “Which way?” asked Dave.
Shel consulted the map again. “To your right.”
It was showing signs of becoming a pleasant morning. The ground was drying. Birds sang, insects hummed, and squirrels scampered up the sides of trees. They passed a vineyard and, minutes later, were overtaken by a donkey cart driven by two teenage boys. In his best Italian, Dave asked whether they were on the road to Arcetri.
“Left at the fork,” came the response. “We’re going that way. You want a ride?”
“Please.” The cart was loaded with planks. They climbed in.
Shel tried his own Italian: “You boys ever hear of Il Giojello?”
They were about fifteen. They appeared healthier than Shel had expected, although one of them could have used some dental work. They looked at each other and both shook their heads.
“What’s Il Giojello?” Dave asked in English.
“It’s Galileo’s villa. But we shouldn’t have a problem finding it. It’s on the map.”
IT was uphill most of the