Termination

by Deborah Chester

  Noel stared at him in surprise. “Three-dimensionally as opposed to what? Two-dimensional thinking?”

  “Sure. Two-dimensional is either linear, very logical and precise, point A to point B to point C, and so on, or it’s lateral and emotional, zigzagging back and forth. The linear ones are easiest to read. The lateral ones are easiest to manipulate. But you think in all directions, past and present, future projections, and old experiences, subconscious hunches, intuition and logic, like a sphere. If the potion makes you numb, it’s possible it slows down your rapid-fire thinking patterns to a degree where he can scan in. But I doubt he’s been able to get much.”

  “But if I keep taking the potion, I’ll become more susceptible.”

  “Possibly. I’m just guessing about this, you know.”

  Noel thought it over while Leon dug through the chest for a clean shirt. “So I could become a zombie, drug dependent, and receptive to hypnotic suggestion.”

  “Whatever,” Leon mumbled as he pulled the shirt over his head.

  “Next question,” Noel said. “What’s going on between the contessa and the Doge’s family? Why the attack on Lady Francesca?”

  “I told you it was a test of my—”

  “No,” broke in Noel impatiently. “What’s behind it? What’s the contessa trying to do?”

  Leon walked over to the fire, shivering, and stood next to it to dry his hair. “Everything in Venice revolves around money and power. The two usually go together. The contessa has no children of her own. But she does have a grown nephew, Claudio. He’s coming tonight to her dinner party.”

  “So?”

  “So, the contessa wants Claudio to marry Lady Francesca, only she’s betrothed to her cousin Vicente Contarini.”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “He’s very powerful, a senator. Rumor says he belongs to the Council of Ten although the identity of the members is kept a secret. He may even be an Inquisitor. No one knows. But the contessa thinks he was responsible for denouncing her brother, who was executed five years ago for treason against the state.”

  “So she’s out for revenge,” Noel said. “In one swoop, she allies her family with a more powerful one, also gaining the bride’s hefty dowry, and she puts a finger in Vicente’s eye.”

  “Exactly.” Leon grinned. “You may not like her, but the contessa has a diabolical mind.”

  “Let’s stick to what’s relevant,” Noel said, pulling thoughtfully at his lip. “Does Lady Francesca’s marriage have any bearing on history?”

  “That again?” Leon exploded. “The future no longer concerns you. You are here, and you will stay here until you die. So stop that sanctimonious trying to save the world—”

  “There’s a real chance of getting back,” Noel said.

  They stared at each other in silence.

  Leon’s face turned red. “You’re lying.”

  “Why should I? Besides, you already know this. I mentioned it in the garden.”

  Leon shook his head. “You know I won’t help you recover the other LOC if it means you can return to the future.”

  “Leon—”

  “No!” Leon made a chopping motion. “Why argue about it again? You’ll try to take me with you, and that means the end of me. I won’t do it, and I won’t help you destroy me.”

  “But—”

  “Forget it! I’ll kill you first.”

  Noel pushed himself stiffly to his feet and stared into Leon’s flushed face. “You can’t,” he said softly.

  “We aren’t linked that way anymore. I can. I’ve tried before in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Yes, you’ve tried,” Noel said, positioning himself between Leon and the door. “But you’ve never succeeded.”

  “Luck!” sneered Leon.

  “Was it?”

  Leon opened his mouth, but said nothing. Doubt flickered in his eyes, and Noel knew he had the advantage again. He held up his hand. “I told you not to evade me. You’ve consulted the working LOC. I want to know about the girl.”

  “What makes you so sure I asked it about her?”

  “Because Messer Tibo wanted a demonstration. He wanted to know the future, and you told him the girl’s. Tell me.”

  Several expressions chased across Leon’s face. He glared resentfully at Noel, then averted his gaze.

  “Tell me,” Noel said. He let some of his anger back into his voice. “Or I can add a few more bruises to your collection.”

  “Swine,” Leon muttered.

  Noel clenched his fists.

  “All right! If she marries Contarini as planned, their two sons have some kind of important bearing on things. One is the ancestor of an engine designer who helps create some sort of rocket. The other…I can’t remember. She has a great-great-several-greats-granddaughter who’s a physicist—”

  “Angelica Contarini,” said Noel, making a sudden connection. “The twenty-second-century chemist who won the Nobel for her breakthroughs in new isotopic transformations—”

  “Who cares?” Leon said. “These people aren’t even born yet. They probably don’t have a clue as to who their ancestors will be or might be or were. It’s too far away. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters a great deal. I wish you could understand that.”

  “Well, I don’t. And I don’t want to. It’s nothing to me.”

  “I know,” Noel said. “I wish you could see where I come from. I wish you could see the twenty-sixth century. What we have, and what we’ve lost. You’d care if you ever saw it.”

  Homesickness filled his chest, and he felt a longing so intense he could not continue talking.

  “But I’ll never see it.” Leon’s voice was as sharp as a stiletto. “I can’t exist there. It means nothing to me. It never will. So why should I care if it’s destroyed or not?”

  Noel swallowed hard. “We aren’t going to let the contessa mess up this marriage. What’s planned for tonight?”

  Leon didn’t reply. The sullen, self-pitying look returned to his face. Noel narrowed his eyes. He was tired of threats, tired of bullying. He wished that just this once Leon would cooperate and work willingly on his side, but it was never to be.

  “Think about this,” Noel said in a harsh voice. “Tibo doesn’t need or want you. If I ever fall completely under his power, he will eliminate you. Whose side do you want to be on?”

  “Mine!” Leon said. “You want me to help you, but—”

  “I can protect you.”

  Leon snorted. “Now who’s the liar? You said you can get back. If that’s true, then you’ll destroy me in trying. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Just answer my question. What’s planned for tonight? The contessa’s nephew is coming to dinner. What else? What is he going to do?”

  “You’re so smart. You figure it out.”

  Noel started toward Leon, but the sound of squeaking stopped him in midstride. He looked around wildly and saw a gray rat crouched in the far corner of the room. For a moment, as fanciful as it was, he had the impression that the rodent was laughing at them.

  Pet…familiar…spy. Rage swelled through Noel. He pivoted on one foot and launched himself at the rat. It turned to run, but he reached it before it could squeeze through a tiny hole in the wall. He kicked it with all his might, and the small animal slammed into the wall. Its hind legs kicked convulsively, then it lay still.

  Breathing hard, his rage still shaking through him, Noel braced his hand on the wall and stared at the creature with revulsion, wondering how much it had heard. Well, it would not carry any tales back to its master.

  “A rat,” Leon said. He glanced at Noel, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could move that fast.”

  “Messer Tibo will have to train a new spy.”

  Leon laughed incredulously. “You don’t think this rat was spying on us, do you?”

  Noel just glared at him. “In this place, anything is possible. Now, you were about to answer my question about tonight.”

  L
eon backed up, his smile fading nervously. “You don’t look so well. Why don’t you rest?”

  “Why don’t I kick you through the wall?” Noel said through his teeth. He advanced on Leon, who held up his hands.

  “All right! Originally they were going to have me put a spell on her, then ransom a cure in exchange for her marriage to Claudio. Now that you messed that up, their new plan is to invite the bridal couple and family here tonight for a celebratory feast. Vicente will be poisoned with something slow-acting that will kill him within a day or two—”

  “Wait a moment,” Noel said irritably. “That’s stupid. Why should any of them come here to eat?”

  “They don’t know who was behind the attack on Lady Francesca,” explained Leon. “You intervened before the spell was set—”

  “Oh, stop calling it a spell. You’re starting to believe in Tibo’s hocus-pocus too much. You just blanked her mind the way you always do.”

  “No, I didn’t. Messer Tibo gave me a vial. I snapped it open beneath her nostrils, and she collapsed.”

  Noel shook his head. “Wrong lie. I spoke to her, and she told me how you invaded her mind. You were pretty brutal with her, Leon. Someone needs to teach you not to do that to people, especially to young girls. I’m glad Tibo gave you a taste of it.”

  Leon frowned and opened his mouth, but Noel wasn’t in the mood to listen to more twisted half-truths. “So the ransom note was never delivered since she recovered too fast. And they’re still looking for us as the culprits. If we leave this house we’ll be on the run.”

  “We’ll be arrested,” Leon said darkly. “Tortured. Beheaded. We have to stay here. We have to do what Messer Tibo and the contessa want.”

  “Bull! We are going to make a plan of our own.” Noel glanced around to make sure no other little spies had crept through the mousehole and he lowered his voice. “First we ambush Tibo and recover the LOC, then we warn Vicente and get ourselves out of this palazzo.”

  “You’re a fool. Contarini will have you arrested on sight. Leave him to his fate.”

  “And leave myself possibly nothing to return to?” Noel said bitterly.

  “If you’re dead you can’t get home. Besides, you’ll never get the LOC away from Messer Tibo.”

  “Oh, yes, I will,” Noel said with determination. “I’m going to lay a little trap for him, and you’re going to help me.

  Leon started laughing, but it had more hysteria than scorn in it. “And he can read me like a book. Sure, I can help. I’ll give it all away.”

  “You aren’t going to give anything away,” Noel said. “Pull yourself together. You know how to shield yourself, for a few minutes anyway.”

  “Ever the optimist,” Leon said, giving him a mocking salute. “Yes, master. Allow me to assist you, master. When Tibo orders me to turn against you, I’ll do it, master.” His face twisted with sudden bitterness and he said in a choking voice, “I’m programmed, you see. One Judas, wrapped in a neat package, ready to be used.”

  Noel stared at him, trying to determine if he was lying yet again or telling the truth.

  “Yeah, stare all you like, brother dear,” Leon said. “I always let you down, don’t I? You never stop hoping I’ll come through for you, but it can’t happen. I can’t be what you want from me. I can’t! Maybe I would have helped you this time, just to pay him back for what he did to me. But he made sure I can’t.”

  “What are you saying?” Noel asked. “That he’s got a hold over you?”

  Leon’s wild laugh rang through the room again. “Here you’re worried about becoming his zombie. Better worry about me instead. One snap of his fingers, and I obey him.” His voice nearly broke and he swung around to put his back to Noel. “Just a warning,” he said hoarsely. “You might as well know now not to tell me anything important. I’ll only take it to him when he calls me.”

  Noel stared at him and didn’t know what to say.

  Finally Leon swung around. His eyes held defiance and something worse. “Well?” he asked. “Lost your tongue, brother dear? Maybe you should just go ahead and snap my back the way you did the rat’s. I’m more danger to you than the rat ever was.”

  Noel thought of Leon’s tears, thought of that strange kiss, thought of how Leon had tended his injuries while he lay helpless. The capacity for good was there, yet had Leon done those things merely to trick Noel into trusting him? He saw Leon now, trapped in his own misery and hatred, too twisted to ever help himself, too unreliable to trust. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe not. There would never be a sure way to tell.

  “Why don’t you kill me?” Leon was saying. “You wanted to a few minutes ago. Why don’t you now? If you can’t attack me in cold blood, maybe I can heat it up. I know how to provoke your temper. Shall I?”

  The disappointment in Noel was brutal. His anger surged into his throat, but he held it back. He wasn’t going that route.

  “If you go back to the future, you’ll kill me anyway,” Leon said. “Why not do it now? Put me out of my misery. Don’t leave me chained to him. Please!”

  He drew a small dagger from his belt and held it out, hilt first. Noel took the weapon. His fingers touched Leon’s momentarily. Leon’s were icy cold against the warmth of his. He looked into Leon’s tormented eyes and his hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger.

  “Get out,” he said quietly through his teeth.

  Leon blinked as though he didn’t trust what he’d heard.

  “Get out.”

  “But this is your chance, your only chance,” Leon said in bewilderment. “I’ll tell him, warn him. I can’t help it. I’ll betray you, and you’ll fail tonight. You won’t get the LOC back from him, and you won’t save Vicente Contarini’s life. Go ahead. Drive the dagger through my heart. It’s on the right side, remember? Defective, wrong…just like the rest of me. You’ve never wanted me to live. You’ve hated me since the day I came into existence. So kill me. I can’t ever live as a complete human being. Put a stop to me now.”

  “No,” whispered Noel.

  “You have to. You know what I am. You know what I like to do. I like hurting people, Noel. I always have. I’ll never stop. You’ll never be free of me. If they kill you tonight, then I’ll die with you. I can’t exist without you, but you don’t need me. You’re the real one. Even Messer Tibo knows that. Put an end to it, Noel. Please.”

  Noel’s heartbeat drummed inside him. He could feel the temptation curling down to his fingertips. His grip tightened even harder on the dagger.

  “Why?” he asked through the closure in his throat. “Why warn me?”

  Leon’s eyes met his steadily for once, letting him see the longing and the misery that had always lain in Leon’s heart. “Because you’re the good one, and I’m not,” he whispered. “Finish me.”

  There was something too sharp and compelling in the way he spoke those last two words. Noel drew a quick breath and flung the dagger on the floor. It went spinning across the terrazzo and ended up beneath the bed.

  “No, Messer Tibo,” Noel said loudly to the air. “I will not kill my brother. You will not ensnare me that way. If you want to put a chain on my soul, you’ll have to think of something for me to do besides commit fratricide.”

  He returned his gaze to Leon, whose face was blank and stony except for his blazing eyes. Noel pointed at the door.

  Leon bared his teeth in a bizarre grin and formed the silent words, “Help me.”

  Noel closed his eyes. “Get out.”

  And in silence Leon left.

  Chapter 10

  Oppressive silence filled the room following Leon’s departure. Noel shivered, frowning to himself, then he pulled himself together. He had things to do.

  Kneeling, he reached beneath the bed and pulled out the dagger. He turned it over in his hands, examining the carved hilt and sharp blade. Good workmanship, but nothing fancy. He tucked it in his belt and squared his shoulders.

  Somehow he had to figure out a way to warn Vicente Contarini. No
thing brilliant had yet occurred to him, but he had hopes of coming up with a plan in time.

  As he set his hand on the door, he glanced over at the dead rat. An unwelcome trickle of uneasiness ran through him and he frowned. Shaking it off, he opened the door and slipped outside.

  Servants moved busily about the public rooms of the palazzo, lighting lamps and candles, kindling fires upon the marble hearths until the rooms blazed with heat and light. Twilight gathered at the windows, and he could smell the cold air beneath the fragrances of food and wood smoke. Keeping on the fringes of the activity, Noel watched the tables being set up for the banquet. Flowers were arranged, plates of gold were set out, forks were placed, napkins were folded into the shapes of pyramids, jeweled goblets were set next to gold toothpicks. Wine coolers of copper were carried in while other servants sprinkled costly perfume over the linen tablecloths.

  Noel saw the dwarf wandering about as though in search of someone. Noel pressed himself into the shadows and slipped downstairs to escape notice. It was his plan to remain out of Messer Tibo’s path. He wasn’t ready for that particular confrontation just yet.

  Finally the contessa appeared on the main staircase, resplendent in cloth of gold and rubies. At her side was a barrel-chested youth with a petulant face that would quickly lose its good looks to drink and dissipation. They stood between the stone griffins and the lamplight glowed in a nimbus about the contessa’s blond curls.

  False gold, thought Noel, gazing up at her. Like her experiments into alchemy, like her friendship toward the unsuspecting guests coming to dine tonight.

  She called out her orders to the porter, her voice rich and imperious. The tall entry doors of the palazzo were pushed open and the light within the palazzo spilled outdoors into the darkness beyond.

  All the scents of Venice rushed in upon the cold night air, the fishy smell of the canals predominating. Gondola traffic filled the canal running at the base of the steps. Lanterns bobbed, and voices of passersby babbled pleasantly.