Termination

by Deborah Chester

  “You fool!” he said angrily. “I have offered you my friendship, and you repay me with the behavior of a ruffiano.”

  Brushing off his robe, he dashed the contents of the wine cup in Noel’s face. “Get out. Soma!”

  The servant with no ears entered in a rush.

  Tibo gestured. “Get him out. At once!”

  Soma hurried forward and pulled Noel to his feet. All of Noel’s previous well-being had vanished. He felt clammy and wretched. His knees would barely support him and he would have fallen again had it not been for Soma’s arm. But he managed to lift his head and glanced back at the astrologer.

  “You can’t work it alone,” he said in a feeble taunt. “You can’t travel alone.”

  Tibo glared at him. “Then be certain I do not take Leon instead of you. Get out!”

  Noel was pushed out the door, which was slammed and bolted behind him. He stood there a moment, dizzy and furious. But there was nothing he could do right now, not while his whole side was on fire and sickly perspiration covered his body. He wanted only to lie down and never move again, but that wouldn’t help.

  “Stay together,” Trojan had warned him.

  How the devil was he going to do that now?

  He’d think of something. He had to. In the meantime…

  Gritting his teeth and swearing to himself, Noel worked his way down the stairs like a feeble old man.

  Chapter 9

  The contessa had left chapel and now sat in a lovely room with her family and little court, listening to a handsome young man sing and play the lute. Leon crouched at her feet like a dog, and the contessa idly stroked his hair while she listened to the music with her eyes half closed.

  Standing in the doorway, Noel saw them through a haze of anger. He did not trust himself to enter. A muscle was jumping in his jaw, and his hands kept clenching and unclenching.

  The song ended, and applause broke out. Leon glanced up and saw Noel. The smile on his face faded and he blinked uncertainly. Noel beckoned, then fumed impatiently while Leon excused himself to the contessa and asked her permission to leave the room. She nodded without glancing at him, and Leon came hurrying to Noel. His steps were quick and light. He did not act now like he’d had a beating. Probably he’d forgotten his act. Behind him the troubadour’s voice lifted like crystal.

  “Noel!” Leon said softly, gripping his arm. “You are back in one piece. I was worried about you. Messer Tibo is no one to—”

  Noel’s left fist connected with his jaw, and Leon went staggering back into the wall with a thud that knocked down a decorative bracket. The vase it supported crashed to the floor and shattered.

  Holding his jaw, Leon straightened slowly and gave his head a small shake. “What did you do that for—”

  “You damned Judas!” Noel hit him again, harder, driving him to the floor.

  In the sitting room, the song faded abruptly and people craned their necks. Noel didn’t care what they saw, and he paid no attention to the servants who came running. He stood over Leon, who was trying to sit up, and kicked him.

  Leon yelped in pain.

  Noel was gasping for breath. Sweat dripped in his eyes, and his lungs were on fire. That last punch had left him spent and dizzy, but he was too angry to let up now. Wishing he could bend over and drag Leon to his feet, he kicked his duplicate again.

  “Get up, you stupid punk. Get up!”

  “Hush, hush,” said the majordomo, running up and making agitated gestures. “You cannot brawl here. You disturb the family.”

  By now Leon had made it to his feet. He straightened painfully and faced Noel. “What’s the matter with—”

  Noel hit him again before the servants could intercede. Leon’s nose was bleeding, and his eyes were fuzzy. He made no effort to defend himself as Noel expected.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t understand—”

  “Oh, don’t I?” retorted Noel, panting heavily. “How many coins did he count into your filthy palm? Trust it with you, you said. You’d keep it safe, you said. Damn you!”

  He heaved himself bodily at Leon, but the servants dragged him back.

  “This one is mad,” said the majordomo in consternation. He bustled to close the door to the sitting room and gestured for the men to move Noel and Leon away. Out in the garden, they released Noel’s arms.

  He staggered and barely caught himself. Clamping his right arm against his throbbing side, he staggered to a bench and sank down. Leon dabbed at his bleeding nose and said nothing.

  “Now, signore, have you come to your senses?” demanded the majordomo. “This fighting, it cannot be done in the contessa’s house.”

  Noel lowered his head to fight off dizziness. He wanted to be sick, but he wasn’t sure if it was from his wound or from his anger. He had never been in such a rage before. It burned from his stomach up into his throat like acid. He could not even look at Leon without wanting to choke him.

  “Careful!” Leon’s voice said in alarm. “He is swooning. Don’t let him fall.”

  Someone’s hands caught Noel by the shoulders. He tried to swat them away and glared up at his duplicate. “Don’t touch me,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’ll never trust you again.”

  Hurt flashed across Leon’s face. “You don’t understand.”

  “What has happened here?” asked Messer Tibo’s deep voice.

  The servants broke out in a babble of explanation.

  “Fighting?” Messer Tibo said. “Leon, you fool! You have hurt him.”

  “No, it was the other way—” began the majordomo, but Tibo would not listen to him. He slapped Leon across the mouth.

  “Stand back out of the way. I blame you for this.”

  Leon slunk over to the fountain and stood there sullenly. Noel could not bear to look at him. He closed his eyes, hating the weakness in his body. Right now all he wanted to do was pummel Leon to a pulp. He’d show him what a beating really was.

  Tibo’s hand, icy cold, touched Noel’s cheek. Noel flinched and opened his eyes. He stiffened at once, but Messer Tibo was already turning away to issue orders.

  “Bring wine. Quickly!”

  A cup was fetched and filled, and Messer Tibo held it out to Leon with a snap of his fingers. “Give this to your brother.”

  Leon hesitated, and Messer Tibo scowled. “Have you not done enough damage for one day? Give it to him!”

  Leon ran forward to take the cup. His hands were shaking so much he almost spilled it.

  “Careful, you fool!” Messer Tibo said.

  Leon cringed away from him as though warding off a blow. He crept up to Noel. “Drink it, please,” he whispered.

  Noel glared at him through slitted eyes. “Go to hell.”

  “Help him,” Messer Tibo commanded.

  The servants gathered around Noel, ignoring his protests. He found himself clamped and held; the cup was pressed to his lips; his head was tilted back forcibly. Leon poured the wine between his lips. Noel could taste the bitter potion that Tibo had slipped into it. He choked and coughed, trying to spit it out, but it was impossible the way they were holding him. The cup’s entire contents went down his throat.

  His eyes, hot with resentment and fury, blazed at Leon who was expressionless.

  Tibo gestured a dismissal and the servants released Noel.

  “That is better,” the astrologer said in satisfaction. He peered at Noel with the glimmer of a smile.

  Shuddering, Noel bent over, hoping he would gag it up. But he did not. Already he could feel the numbness spreading through him. He figured he would pass out, but he did not. The pain faded away, bit by bit, until he could breathe without misery and even sit up straight.

  “We are only trying to help you,” Messer Tibo said softly, his black eyes smiling into Noel’s alone. “Now calm yourself and do yourself no further harm. I shall see you again at sunset.”

  He glided away through the shrubbery. Noel glanced at the sky, where the sunshine deepened to late afternoon gol
d. Already the clouds were growing rosy. Sunset was perhaps an hour away, if that long.

  “Leave us,” Leon said to the servants who lingered. “It is over.”

  Alone in the garden with the fussing birds and the soft water babble of the fountain, Noel and Leon faced each other. Leon pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to his nose. In a moment the snowy cloth was stained crimson. Above it, Leon’s eyes looked bruised and wary.

  Noel levered himself to his feet, not wanting Leon to tower over him.

  Leon backed up a half step. “It’s not how you think,” he said nervously.

  “Then how is it?”

  “You haven’t seen what he’s really like.”

  “I think I have.”

  Leon’s eyes widened, then he shook his head. “No, you’ve no idea. He’s—he’s some kind of—”

  “Sorcerer?” Noel broke in softly. “Hypnotist? Conjurer? Chemist? Charlatan?”

  “You know better!” Leon snapped.

  “Do I? You just said I didn’t know.”

  Leon frowned and turned away in confusion. “Don’t—stop playing games with me. I tried to help you.”

  “So you said. But you’ve said that before, just as you’ve set me up before.”

  “All right, all right! I gave it to him. What choice did I have?” Leon shuddered. “He—he gets into your brain and you can’t resist him.”

  “Oh, that’s right. He hurt you, didn’t he? He whipped you and invaded your mind and made you cry.”

  Leon’s face puckered. “You’ll never understand. You don’t want to.”

  “I understand that Messer Tibo has been told about the future,” Noel said coldly. “I understand that he has been given a LOC, which he intends to use to travel to the twenty-sixth century.”

  “But he can’t!” Leon said. He checked his handkerchief, sniffed, and pressed the cloth to his nose again. “The portal is shut. You closed it forever to keep Qwip out.”

  Noel crossed his arms. His anger simmered deep. He watched Leon stonily.

  Leon continued nervously. “And—and besides, the LOC won’t work for him. It’s set for you and what harm—”

  Noel uncrossed his arms, his hands swinging into fists. Leon scuttled back, holding his hand in front of his face.

  “Nothing works, so just give the man a LOC for a toy,” Noel said sarcastically. “Brilliant, Leon. We should give you a prize.”

  “Stop it!” Leon cried. “He can’t use it—”

  “Why not? If you wanted to be sure of that, why didn’t you at least give him the damaged one?”

  “I did.”

  Noel bit down on his temper to keep it under control. “Look at your wrist, damnit, and tell me what you see.”

  Leon jerked up his sleeve and stared. His mouth fell open. “I meant to. I really meant to. Noel, you have to believe—”

  “Sure, I believe you had the best intentions.”

  “I did!”

  “Yeah? And I’m Medusa. My God, you idiot, do you have any idea of what you’ve done? The good LOC is unprotected.”

  Leon frowned.

  Noel watched him figure it out.

  Leon said slowly, “You mean—”

  “Exactly.”

  “But—”

  “Look, do I have to spell it out? It will work for him. It will activate and answer any question he puts to it. Even if the technicians don’t repair the portal and recall him, he’s got access to—”

  Leon began to laugh. “No wonder you’re so angry. I see now. You’re going to be left here with me, while he goes back. That’s ironic, isn’t it? You’ve finally been outwitted. You’ve finally met your match. My brother Noel, the pillar of perfection, dumped here in the past to rot, just like you intend to dump me.”

  “I thought you wanted to stay here and live your own life. That’s what you’ve always said before.”

  Leon’s laughter choked in his throat. He sputtered a moment, then said, “Don’t confuse me. I can’t—I don’t—”

  Noel said with deliberate cruelty, “Do you know that Tibo no longer thinks we’re twins? He says you’re my familiar, a creature that I use to deceive and distract people.”

  “That bastard! He can’t—he said he would—”

  “Yes? He would do what?” taunted Noel. “Give you what? I’m still interested to know how much you sold us out for.”

  “I won’t tell you.”

  “Fine,” Noel said, turning away. “Go hang yourself.”

  Leon came running after him and spun him around. “Damn you!” he cried in a rage. “Damn you! You never understand. You never see what’s before you.”

  Noel sighed. “I’ve been waiting for an explanation all day.”

  Tears shone in Leon’s silver eyes. He lifted his hands, then let them fall. Defeat filled his face, and he said nothing. In silence he began to cry.

  Noel watched him a moment, unmoved. The tears had worked once, but they wouldn’t again. This was the same old stupid, venal, illogical Leon he had always known. Noel wanted to drag him outside to the canal and drown him, but he couldn’t. Not as long as there remained the slimmest, most remote chance of getting back. The hologram of Trojan’s bearded face shimmered in his mind like a ray of hope.

  “We’re too much in the open here,” Noel said, glancing around at the loggia and windows overhead. “Let’s go to the room and talk there.”

  Leon wrenched free. “And then I can hang myself?” he said bitterly.

  Noel looked into the wretched face so like his own and no longer felt any pity. Leon had played him for the fool once too often. That trick would never work again.

  “Forget it,” Leon said as though sensing his thoughts. “I don’t care anymore. I don’t want your help. I don’t want to explain anything to you. Why should I?”

  “So you’re going to stay out here crying in the garden?”

  Leon rubbed fiercely at his eyes and sniffed. “Leave me alone.”

  “Look, I don’t know what kind of weird potion Tibo’s been giving me, but you can see what it does,” Noel said, out of patience with him. “It’s not opium. It’s something much stranger than that. I figure you know what it is.”

  “You don’t want to know,” Leon said miserably.

  “Great. That’s very useful. Thank you. So in about an hour I turn into a pumpkin or become a zombie chained to Tibo for life. Before that happens I want to know exactly what’s going on around here. It’s obvious Tibo has combed your brain. I’m hoping you dug around in his in exchange.”

  “I already told you what he did to me,” Leon said uneasily. “There’s nothing more to say.”

  “Leon, I want some answers and I’m going to get them.” Noel gripped him by the sleeve. “Come on. We’re running out of time.”

  The chamber Noel had left was just the same. No one had come in and straightened the rumpled bed linens or dusted or closed the window where cold air now poured in. The sunshine had faded, and the reflected light had stopped dancing off the ceiling and walls. Noel shut and latched the window and turned to his duplicate.

  “Have a seat.”

  Instead Leon knelt at the hearth and lit a fire. He poked and fussed with it for several minutes until a cheery blaze began hissing from the logs. Using a strip of kindling he lit the candles on the bedside table and a small bronze lamp. Light filled the room.

  Noel walked over to Leon and gripped him by the arm. Leon stiffened warily, but Noel merely pulled up his sleeve and unfastened the LOC. Walking away with it, he took the only chair in the room and sat down.

  “We’ll start with the easy questions,” Noel said. “What is this stuff Tibo’s been giving me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Noel’s temper flared. “You understand this once and for all. I want straight answers. No evasions, no messing around.”

  “I don’t know! If you want me to list the ingredients, I can’t. He doesn’t like me, remember? I’m not privy to his secrets.”

 
“Will it do any damage? Will it put me under his control?”

  “Perhaps.” Leon shrugged sullenly. “I don’t know! I’m sure that’s why he gives it to you. Each dosage is probably stronger. You may think the ancient dark arts are just mumbo jumbo, but some of them work. Remember the voodoo?”

  Noel’s mouth still went dry whenever he thought of those experiences among the pirates. “How could I forget?”

  “You scoffed then until you got caught—”

  “Yes, Leon, and that’s exactly why I’m not scoffing now. Exactly what can this wizard do to me?”

  Leon turned and pulled off his doublet and shirt. His back was crisscrossed with angry welts, but only a couple of them looked like serious cuts. He tossed his clothes over the prie-dieu as though he had no idea of what it was and reached for a ewer of water. His chest and stomach were covered with fist-sized bruises.

  Holding the ewer, he said, “Has he tried to read your mind?”

  Noel frowned. “I’m not sure. I haven’t felt anything. Would I know?”

  “Probably. From what he says, does he know too much?”

  Noel’s face heated with fresh anger. “That’s a good question, coming from you.”

  “You told me to speak straight!” Leon retorted. “Why don’t you do the same?”

  “Okay, okay.” Noel forced himself to calm down. “Tibo’s pretty suspicious of me, but I don’t think he’s been walking in and out of my mind.”

  “I can’t read you. I doubt he can either.” Leon poured the water over his head and shoulders, heedless of the mess he made on the floor. He pulled the top sheet off the bed and used it to dry himself. “How does the potion make you feel? Dizzy? Sleepy? Careless?”

  “No, I feel better. The pain is masked, and my mind is very clear.”

  Leon sighed and shook his head as though baffled.

  “Wait a minute,” Noel said. “I feel numb right at the very first. It spreads up to the top of my head and then travels down. Then the numbness goes away.”

  “The first time you passed out. But this time you didn’t.”

  “Right.”

  “He could be reading you in those few seconds of numbness, or trying to. I can’t read you because we’re two sides of the same person. The reversal is like a mirror. It reflects my probe right back at me. But I figure Messer Tibo has trouble reading you because you think three-dimensionally.”