”I am nervous. This is real. It isn’t a stage play, it’s real. Do you get used to it?”
Malcolm’s eyes took on a faraway look as his gaze focused on something Margo couldn’t see. “No,” he said softly. “You don’t. At least, I don’t. I could’ve found any number of teaching positions up time, particularly with my scouting and time guiding credentials in addition to my degrees. But I don’t want to go back. Stepping through a gate…” He grinned again. “You’ll see.”
The air began to buzz. Margo pressed a hand to the bones of her skull. “Ow.”
”Any moment, now.”
Malcolm sounded even more excited than Margo felt, which was saying quite a lot. She checked her “uniform” again to be sure everything was in place. Under a heavy walking cloak, Margo’s deep azure dress and starched white pinafore were immaculate. A pretty white cap and an enormous straw hat mercifully covered her hideous brown hair. Thick knitted stockings, ankle length boots, and fingerless mittens completed the ensemble, topped off by a beautiful badge in which a crown and the letters R.M.I.G. enclosed a setsquare and compasses.
”This,” Connie Logan had told her with a smile, “is a particularly prestigious school uniform.”
”What does R.M.I.G. stand for?”
”Royal Masonic Institution for Girls.”
Malcolm, it turned out, was a Freemason, both in real life and in his down-time persona.
”I’ve found it helps enormously,” he’d told her. “If you’re in trouble-and it’s very easy to fall into trouble, even- for an experienced guide having a network of sworn brothers dedicated to a creed of helping those in need can literally be a lifesaver.”