Not that Burton knew about Leon’s plans. The Brit was old-fashioned, conservative, and stodgy when it came to new ideas. He believed in a gentleman’s code, stupidly adhered to honor, and would have been horrified at the thought of cold-blooded murder. Leon, of course, knew it was the perfect solution to this whole conflict. The colonies all revered George Washington far beyond his abilities. He had never formally trained as a military leader. His youthful service in the Virginia regiment during the French and Indian War had been full of error and stupidity. But here he was, this charismatic leader. Without him, the whole revolt would fold. With him, England would lose this country and all its potential.
Of course Leon could not tell Burton that. He had learned over the past few weeks to resist small temptations to tamper with the path of history. No, he intended to bide his time and make the big strike. Tomorrow night, Washington’s fate would be in his hands and he—
Without warning a net of darkness surrounded him, blacking out the sky and shadowy trees. His horse neighed in fright and plunged to a rearing halt, nearly pitching Leon from the saddle.
“Noel?” he gasped, dragging on the reins in an effort to control his mount.
A ghostly figure hovered before him, and his snorting horse tried to back away from it.
“Hold still, damn you!” shouted Leon. But it was all bravado. As soon as he had the horse’s attention, he whirled it around and spurred it cruelly.
But although the horse gathered itself, trembling and snorting, it did not bolt. The apparition appeared before them again, and again, no matter which way Leon turned. Enraged by its interference, he gathered the strength of his mind and hurled it at the thing.
The force, kinetic and alien, scattered briefly beneath his mental blow, then regathered itself. It deflected his next attack. Short of breath, Leon froze in place and watched the thing with new wariness. Whatever it was, it possessed more strength than he had. He would not attack it again until he understood how to defeat it.
“I am Qwip,” said the image to his mind.
“So?” replied Leon with a sneer. “Get out of my way.”
“I deliver a warning.”
Leon’s wariness increased. “What is it?”
“Noel waits for you.”
Rage swept through Leon. This was some kind of new trick. He should have known. “I knew it was you!” he said in a fury. “Get away! Leave me be!”
“I am not Noel,” said the image. “I am Qwip.”
“And I don’t care. I’ll hear no message from him.”
“No message is delivered. I have warned you.”
“Why?”
“That is not important.”
“No,” admitted Leon craftily. He decided that perhaps this thing wasn’t from Noel after all. Who then? Had the anarchists of Noel’s time figured out how to access the time stream? It was an intriguing possibility.
“I am not of Noel’s time,” said the image. “I am Qwip.”
“Yeah, like I care,” muttered Leon. “You’re saying that Noel is here?”
“He waits for you.”
Leon’s fist slammed against the pommel of his saddle. “Why can’t he leave me alone? I thought he’d returned to the future that’s so damned precious to him. Why must he interfere?”
“He is trapped like yourself. You remain linked.”
“That’s crazy,” said Leon with another sneer. “I’ve been here for nearly three months. If we were still linked, he would have shown up immediately. You’re trying to trick me.”
“Accept the warning or reject it as you please,” said the image tonelessly.
“Nothing comes for free,” said Leon. “What do you want in exchange?”
Qwip laughed, and it was a hollow, eerie sound that made the hairs rise on the back of Leon’s neck. There was little enough in this world that could frighten him, but suddenly he felt unnaturally cold and vulnerable.
Qwip surged at him. So fast did it move, Leon barely had time to tense himself against the attack. Qwip’s strength hit him like a blow, and with a hoarse cry Leon tumbled off his horse. The animal bolted down the road, but Leon was too busy grappling with the thing that had seized him. There was no physical body to fight, no corporeal form to resist. All was mental energy, as slippery and elusive as the ether, yet the pressure of it made him scream. He felt as though his skull would crack, and no matter how much he struggled, he could not cast this thing away.
“No!” he screamed, rolling over and over. The silver gorget of his rank clanged against a pebble in the road, and he writhed madly. The pressure continued to mount, until his eyeballs felt as though they would explode. His tongue projected from his mouth, his skin felt as though it were being shredded from his bones, and he was racked with muscle spasms. He uttered mindless screams.
Then, with a suddenness that silenced him, it was in.
He could feel the alien coldness of it slithering around in his mind, handling his thoughts, sifting through his memories and knowledge. It gripped him harshly and he would have screamed had he still possessed breath.
The horror, the fear…No, no, no, screamed his mind. But it held him in a force he could not escape.
“Now,” whispered Qwip to him, “you will act as I wish you to.”
“No,” sobbed Leon. “No!”
Qwip hurt him, and the pain was so great he lost consciousness. When Qwip let his mind recover, he found himself curled in a small ball upon the frozen ground, whimpering.
“Enough,” said Qwip. “I can make it worse if I choose.”
Closing his eyes, Leon rocked himself from side to side and fought no more against the creature.
“Now,” whispered Qwip as though licking at his mind, “go to Noel.”
Chapter 8
Noel awakened from an uneasy doze with a start and looked around wildly. For an instant he did not recognize his surroundings. Then the ordinary shapes of bed and table amid the twilight shadows reassured him. He sank back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. His body was still trembling, and he was covered with a light film of perspiration despite the chilliness of the room. He knew he’d had a nightmare, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He was glad.
Restless, he stood up and paced around the room. He was starving. It was getting late, and he’d lost his patience. When was Leon going to show up?
He thought over the duties of an army officer. Leon could be anywhere. He might have been sent off on a mission, providing he would consent to take orders from anyone. Or he might be down at the tavern carousing with his friends.
Noel sighed. He should have known his plan was too simplistic to work. Hours were passing, and he was no closer to getting his hands on his duplicate than when he’d started. Besides, since he’d been stupid enough to fall asleep, Leon could have come to the house, sensed his presence, and left.
“Damn!” said Noel.
His sense of unease increased. He listened at the door but heard nothing beyond the ordinary sounds of a household. Yet something was wrong. He felt restless, too uneasy to linger in this room. It had begun to feel like a trap to him, too small, too dark.
Picking up his pistol, he took a cloak of Leon’s, and a hat that did not quite fit, and eased open the door. The stairs beyond the landing were quite dark. He made his way down them cautiously, feeling each step, and let himself out the side door.
As he was crossing the garden, however, he saw a furtive shadow move among the shrubbery. A second later, a lean silhouette faced him by the starlight, one that he would recognize anywhere.
Noel froze, mentally kicking himself for not waiting just a few minutes more. When was he ever going to learn more patience?
Still, the mistake had been made. There was no going back now.
“Leon,” he said quietly.
“Noel,” came the reply.
Leon’s voice was hoarse and oddly breathless. Since Noel was aware of the intense hatred Leon felt for him, he was hardly surprised that his du
plicate sounded under a strain. He made a surreptitious move for the pistol in his pocket and heard the sound of a gun hammer being pulled back.
“Don’t,” said Leon.
Noel grimaced to himself. “I should have known I couldn’t surprise you.”
“No, you are always predictable, at least where I am concerned. I blame you for this. Why didn’t you stay away?”
“I’m not here by choice,” said Noel.
Leon gave a choking laugh. “Three months of life…the sweetness of it. Just when I began to hope, you come to tell me it was all just a great cosmic joke at my expense. Did you laugh, Noel? I hope you laughed.”
The bitterness in Leon’s voice was rawer than Noel had ever heard it. He thought of the little book and the silver-backed brushes and felt the stirrings of compassion.
“Why?” asked Leon. “Why? I didn’t tamper this time. I swear I didn’t. I’ve stolen nothing, seduced few—”
“Don’t,” said Noel harshly, unable to bear the appeal.
A short span of silence stretched between them. Then Leon said, “This is hard to believe. You aren’t protesting your innocence or giving me a lecture on the evils of my ways.”
“Would it do any good?” asked Noel wearily. “You have to go back with me.”
“Oh, yes, at last here it is. I wondered when you would get to the speech. Now tell me, brother dear, what is the cataclysm awaiting the world—excuse me—the future world this time? And exactly how is it my fault?”
“I don’t know what you’ve done,” said Noel. “Nothing that I can determine.”
Leon gave a muted, mocking whistle.
“That doesn’t change anything!” said Noel desperately.
“I thought I always changed things. That’s your constant accusation.”
“The rip in the time stream is still out there. We were joined for a moment, but it didn’t hold.”
“Because we’re not one being, as you’d like to believe. I can’t imagine why you’re so desperate to have me, since you despise me.”
“I don’t—”
“I’m a cockroach to you!” shouted Leon.
“That isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” said Leon with a jeer. “And what’s this new note I hear in your voice, brother dear? Pity? Hah! I want none of that, thank you.”
“What do you want?” asked Noel quietly.
Leon tensed. The hatred rolling off him was palpable, even in the shadows. “Yes, mock me. Pretend you don’t know. As though I haven’t pleaded with you a dozen times, begging you heart and soul to let me live.”
“No,” said Noel in puzzlement. “There’s something different about you this time. Something else you want.”
“I want a promotion from my commanding officer,” said Leon raggedly. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“I’m really trying this time.”
“So it seems.”
“I want a real life. I have friends this time, a job, a place in this community. I’ve had time to become a part of it. I want to stay.”
Noel heard the aching sincerity in his voice and regretted it. “You know it isn’t possible.”
“But I’ve proven myself. I haven’t tampered, haven’t used my telepathy to do harm.”
“Perhaps.”
“You doubt my word?”
Noel said nothing.
“Why did you wait so long?” demanded Leon. “Why did you let me think I had a chance—”
“It wasn’t my doing—”
“It never is,” said Leon bitterly. “How can you always come up with this sanctimonious drivel?”
Keeping a wary eye on the pistol in Leon’s hand, Noel changed the subject swiftly. “Where did you materialize?” he asked. “At the battle of—”
“I don’t want to discuss that,” said Leon sharply.
“But it’s important. I landed right in the middle of a battle and had to run for my life from British soldiers.”
Leon chuckled so softly it was like hearing a ghost laugh. “I wish I had seen that.”
“You should have. I expected you to be there.”
“Nonsense!” said Leon. “Don’t tell me that you’ve been here for three months too. Your LOC would have recalled you long ago.”
Noel said nothing.
Leon drew in a sharp breath. “You still have it, don’t you?”
Noel thought back to their last encounter in Restoration London, when they’d fought to the bitter end and Leon had destroyed his own LOC, thus trapping them both in a new time loop. The old anger returned, and he took an involuntary step forward.
Leon raised the pistol. “Careful.”
“You idiot,” said Noel through his teeth. “When you destroyed your LOC, you trapped us both. I hope that’s satisfied you.”
“I was perfectly satisfied until you came here.”
Noel looked at him. “You do realize that in a few more months the tide of this war will turn in the colonials’ favor? Do you plan to stay in the army and return to England? What if you’re killed in battle?’
“Worried?” retorted Leon.
“Anytime you’re on the scene, I’m worried,” said Noel with equal sharpness.
“Are you saying that your LOC no longer functions?”
“Why are you so concerned with my LOC?” asked Noel with fresh puzzlement. “You can’t steal it. You know it won’t work for you. Besides, how do you think I got here without it?”
“How did I get here?”
“I told you. I materialized on the battlefield. That’s how you came along. I’m sure that’s how you acquired a uniform.”
“Full of theories, aren’t you?”
“Your pattern is consistent.”
“And you’re full of lies.”
Noel sighed. “Yes, you think so. I’m always lying to you, betraying you, trying to destroy you. You’re suffering from a persecution complex.”
“How’s your metabolism this trip?” asked Leon angrily. “A little more normal? Will you survive a lead ball in your chest?”
Noel tensed. Leon was unpredictable and half-crazy. He might just shoot.
“Don’t look so worried,” said Leon. “I’m not ready to shoot you yet. First of all, I’d have to explain you.”
“Oh, I’m your brother and I’m here to take you back to England at the request of our father,” said Noel blithely. “And you’re illegitimate, by the way.”
Leon snorted. “Nice touch.”
“I thought so.”
“I won’t sell my commission.”
“You must. Especially when I’ve explained matters to your commanding officer.”
“Burton won’t believe your tale.”
“But I’m obviously your twin,” said Noel reasonably. “No one can doubt our relationship.”
“Who says anyone is going to meet you?”
“But I’ve met so many of your acquaintances already.”
Leon stiffened. “Who, damn you? Who?”
“Let’s see. The Crewes and—”
“Sally Crewe?”
Surprised by the alarm in Leon’s voice, Noel stared at him. “Yes.”
“How the hell did you—never mind!”
“Oh, I know all about her,” said Noel cheerfully, ready to goad any weak point he could find. “Tell me, is this little romance with the major all in her mind, or does Burton feel the same way about her?”
“You devil—”
“What does it matter if I’ve met her?” asked Noel blankly.
“Nothing!” said Leon, but with too much vehemence.
“I just spoke with her briefly at—”
“I said to forget it. It doesn’t matter,” snapped Leon.
Noel could tell that it did. “She’s kind of snooty,” he remarked. “But everything else about her is spectacular.”
“Just shut up.”
“Why?”
“Shut up!”
Noel stared at him in dawnin
g realization. “You like her!” he said in amazement. “My God, you’ve got it for your commander’s girlfriend!”
“Why don’t you shout it across the town square?” growled Leon. “I told you to shut up about it.”
“But why?” asked Noel, laughing. “Leon in love? I didn’t think you could feel anything but greed and hatred. Perhaps you’re becoming human after all.”
Leon glared at him. “I could shoot you for that,” he said in a low, furious voice. “I can’t right now, but if it weren’t for—” He broke off, breathing hard, then continued raggedly. “The moment will come when you’ll regret making fun of me.”
“But I’m not—”
“Enough!” He gestured with the pistol. “It’s too exposed out here. Anyone from the house could see us. Go that way, behind the house.”
Holding his hands where Leon could see them, Noel turned slowly and walked across the garden. His footsteps crunched on the frost, and the air was so cold it hurt to breathe it. His back felt exposed. There was a spot just beneath his left shoulder blade that itched with anticipation, but so far Leon hadn’t shot him. Perhaps Leon had lost his nerve again. But Noel knew he couldn’t count on that.
Past the garden wall there was a sort of common field, with woods beyond. Noel stopped, still holding up his hands.
“Now where?” he asked.
He heard the quick scrape of Leon’s boots behind him and started to turn, but he was too late.
The hard pistol butt crashed into his head. With a grunt, Noel pitched forward on his face and knew no more.
Noel awakened to the unpleasant sensation of being dragged by one heel across some cold and very lumpy ground. His head was muzzy and throbbing, but after a few moments his wits cleared. He raised his head and saw that he was indeed being dragged, by Leon.
His duplicate was taking him across the field behind the town for some inexplicable reason, to bury him perhaps. But worse than that was the sound Leon was making, a mewing kind of mindless noise over and over in his throat. It was the sound of something deranged, something wild. It made Noel’s skin crawl.
He thought about calling out to his duplicate, but a sense of caution held him silent. They were perhaps twenty yards from the trees, and instinct warned Noel against letting himself be dragged there.
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