Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In an Arizona desert a man wanders in a daze, speaking words that make no sense. Within twenty-four hours he is dead, his body swiftly cremated by his only known associates. Halfway around the world archaeologists make a shocking discovery at a medieval site. Suddenly they are swept off to the headquarters of a secretive multinational corporation that has developed an astounding technology. Now this group is about to get a chance not to study the past but to enter it. And with history opened to the present, the dead awakened to the living, these men and women will soon find themselves fighting for their very survival–six hundred years ago. . . .
back at Yale, with the cream-colored walls and the polished dark-wood trim, and of the arguments among the graduate students sitting around the long table: whether processual archaeology was primarily historical or primarily archaeological, whether formalist criteria outweighed objectivist criteria, whether derivationist doctrine concealed normative commitment. It was no wonder they argued. The issues were pure abstractions, consisting of nothing but thin air—and hot air. Their empty debates
always enjoyed a special relationship with Doniger. She had begun as an attorney in an outside law firm, doing work for the company. Doniger thought she was smart and classy, so he hired her. She was his girlfriend for the next year, and even though that was long over, he still listened to her. She’d been able to head off several potential disasters over the years. “For ten years,” Gordon said, “we’ve kept this technology quiet. When you think about it, it’s a miracle. Traub was the first
looked up at Marek. “Give me five.” He released five feet of line, and she slid down until she was lightly touching the dirt mound. Little rivulets of earth trickled away beneath her feet. She eased herself forward. “Three more.” She dropped to hands and knees, giving the mound her full weight. It held. But she looked up at the arch uneasily. The keystone was crumbling at the edges. “Everything all right?” Marek called. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go in now.” She crawled back toward the gaping
around the outside. They go on for quite a distance. High, too. And that very pretty gate coming into town, you know, with the two round towers on either side.” Kate nodded. “It’s sort of ironic,” she said, “that a lot of the villages that we find so charming now were actually the shopping malls of the fourteenth century.” “Shopping malls? How do you mean?” the woman asked. At that moment, Marek’s radio, clipped to his belt, crackled with static. “André? Are you there?” It was Elsie. She
to the dungeon.” “My Lord, they were in the dungeon when they got free.” “They got free? How?” Immediately, he raised his hand to interrupt the reply. “What is our most secure place?” Robert de Kere slipped forward and whispered. “My tower chamber? Where I keep Mistress Alice?” Oliver began to laugh. “It is indeed secure. Yes, lock them there.” Sir Guy said, “I will see to it, my Lord.” “These ‘assistants’ will be surety to their master’s good conduct.” He smiled darkly. “I believe,