Time Scout by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

Malcolm Moore led her at least half-way down the Commons, through areas that reminded Margo of history-book pictures. She knew where the various gates led, having researched TT-86 as thoroughly as possible before taking the plunge. This portion of the terminal led to ancient Athens, while the section over there was designed like a city in the High Andes. They passed shops that fascinated with glimpses of exotic interiors. One restaurant was shaped like a South American pyramid; its doorway was a replica of the Sun Gate at Teotihuacan.

Beyond that, Margo spotted intricate knotted patterns and interwoven mythical beasts carved around shop doorways. One restaurant had been built into a dragon prowed ship, with signs painted to look like Viking runes. The scents wafting out of the restaurants made her empty belly rumble in complaint.

Should’ve eaten lunch before I came down time. I bet the prices here are sky-high. At least in New York, she’d been able to buy cheap hot dogs from street vendors. They passed into an area of mosaic floors and Roman style shop fronts, then her guide ducked under a span of fake columns and steel supports and indicated a dim doorway. The clink of glasses and the unmistakable scent of beer wafted out from the interior. There was no shop sign visible anywhere. No wonder she’d missed it. Must be a hangout for residents only, if they don’t advertise.

”Voila,” Malcolm Moore said with a courtly flourish and a smile. “The Down Time Bar and Grill.”

”Thanks.” She flashed him a quick smile of gratitude, then headed for the dim-lit entrance, leaving him to follow or wander off on his own, whichever he preferred. Her attention was already focused on what she was going to say to the legendary Kenneth “Kit” Carson, the man on whom her entire future-and more depended. Mouth dry, palms wet, Margo gripped her suitcase in one hand and her courage in the other, then charged across the threshold .