Poul Anderson - The Shield of Time

Approaching the gate, he slowed to a halt. The sentries there had not heard anything yet. He hoped they wouldn’t notice how he smelled. “Good evening,” he said casually and sauntered on, as if bound for a party or an assignation.

When beyond their view, he took to the byways. Dusk deepened. He could reach a city portal before closing time and, if questioned, talk his way through. He wasn’t glib by nature, but he’d learned assorted fox-tricks, as Karel never did. By morning the hunt for him would be ranging across the countryside. He’d need his woodcraft, and probably two or three days, to stay free till he reached the dell where Jack Hall waited—by then, worried half loco. After that, he thought, things will really get hairy.

“Tamberly checking in. Volstrup isn’t here, he’s with some of the men guests, but I’m alone in our room and taking this chance to call. We’re both okay.”

“Hi, Wanda.”

“Manse! Is that you? How are you? How’ve you been? Oh, it’s good to hear your voice!”

“And yours, honey. I’m here with Agop Mikelian, your contact. Will you have a few uninterrupted minutes?”

“Should. Wait, I’ll bar the door to make certain…. Manse, listen, we’ve found out that Lorenzo de Conti is alive and getting set to marry—”

“I know. And I’ve confirmed uptime that he’s the figure on whom everything turns, has been turning and will be, unless we put a stop to it. The information damn near cost Karel Novak his life.”

“Oh, no.”

“Well, he covered my retreat. Once I’d reached the hopper, Jack and I doubled back downtime and snatched him out of the fracas he was in. That isn’t a history we care about preserving.”

“Your tone of voice—It was a near thing for you, wasn’t it, Manse?”

“Never mind. I’m unhurt, if that’s what’s fretting you. Tell you all about it later. Have you anything new to report?”

“Well, uh, yesterday Bartolommeo Conti de Segni arrived, as per invitation.”

“Huh?”

“You remember, don’t you? You’re the one who told me about him. He’s a cousin or something. Young, bachelor. Seems in a pretty sour mood. My impression is, he’d hoped to marry Ilaria. It’d be a useful alliance for his family.”

“That figures. He’s got to be the man who did marry her, in our history, and fathered Pope Gregory. What we have to do is clear Lorenzo out of the way. Fast. I hear the wedding’s set for next week.—Wanda? Wanda?”

“Yes. I—Manse, you aren’t thinking … you can’t be—to off him?”

“I hate the notion too. Have we any choice, though? It can be instant, painless, not a mark on the body; neural projector, stop his heart, like switching off a light. Everybody will suppose it was natural. They’ll grieve, but life will go on. Our people’s life, Wanda.”

“ No . Prevent this marriage of his, sure. We must be able to finagle that somehow. But murder him? I, I can’t believe that’s you talking.”

“I wish to God it weren’t.”

“Then talk different, damn you.”

“Wanda, listen. He’s too dangerous. It isn’t his fault, but I discovered at Frederick’s court he’s the focus of, of chaos. So many world lines come together with his that—even his great-grandson nearly ruined our mission; would have, except for Karel. Lorenzo’s got to go.”

“You listen, Manson Everard. Kidnap him or what-lever, fine—”

“What kind of trouble might his sudden disappearance bring on? I tell you, the entire future is balanced in Anagni this month. On him. I didn’t know any better, so I didn’t make sure of him at Rignano, and look what’s come of that. We’ve no right to take any more unnecessary chances. Don’t forget, I like him. This hurts like cancer.”

“Shut up. Let me finish. I’m in a position to help you pull off a smooth operation. I don’t think you can do it without me. And you better not think I’ll make myself a party to murder. He—we can’t—”

“Hey, Wanda, don’t cry.”

“I’m not! I, I—Okay, Ev-Ev-Everard. Take it or leave it. Haul me up for insubordination if you want. Whatever they do to me, I ought to have a lot of years left to spend despising you.”

“Manse? Are … you there yet?”

“Yeah. Been thinking. Look, I’m not so weak or selfish I can’t shoulder guilt if necessary. But will you believe me when I say it’d have been easier to die there with Karel? If we really can find some other way that doesn’t spawn still a third monster, why, Wanda, I’ll be in your debt to the bounds of infinity and the end of eternity.”

“Manse, Manse! I knew you’d agree!”

“Easy, gal. No promises, except to try my damnedest. We’ll see what we can figure out. Suggestions?”

“I’ll have to think. It, uh, it’s a question of what will work on him, isn’t it? His psychology. Intuitive stuff. But I have gotten to know him pretty well.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he’s been giving me quite a play. I’ve never had my virtue more delightfully threatened.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t you see, that’s why I can’t go along with—If he were just a charming rascal, I might. But he’s for real. Honest, brave, loyal, no matter how wrongheaded his causes may be; not well educated by our standards, but with as much life between his ears as any man I’ve ever met.”

“Well, let’s both consider how we might use these many qualities of his, and get back to each other tomorrow.”

“Why, Manse! Did I catch a note of jealousy?”

Master Emilius van Waterloo explained that he was indisposed and had best take to his bed. He wished to make certain he would be in condition to attend the wedding mass and feast three days hence. Sir Lorenzo found goodwife Walburga moping in the solarium. “Wherefore so disconsolate, my lady?” he asked. “Surely it’s but a slight malady your man suffers.”

“God willing.” She sighed. “But—forgive my worldliness—I looked forward more than you know to that outing you spoke of.”

“I understand.” His gaze ranged over her. Flowing garb did not hide litheness and fullness. From beneath the headcovering peeped a lock or two of golden hair. “One such as you, youthful, far-traveled, must come to feel penned between these walls amidst the clucking of lesser women. I too, Walburga, often and often.”

She regarded him wistfully. “You see deeper and kindlier than I would ever have thought a great warrior could.”

He smiled. “Well, later I’ll take you forth, I swear.”

“Alas, make no promises you cannot keep. You shall be wedded, with better duties, while we—we must not presume longer on your father. Straightaway after the joyous day, we start homeward.” Tamberly dropped her glance. “I will always remember.”

“Uhm, uhm!” He cleared his throat. “My lady, if this is improper, tell me, but … perhaps you might grant me the pleasure of escorting you, at least, tomorrow?”

“Oh, you—You overwhelm me, sir.” Am I laying it on too thick? How should I know? He doesn’t seem to mind. “Surely your time is more valuable than—No, but I’ve come to know you somewhat. You say what you mean. Yes, I’ll ask my husband, and believe he will be pleased and honored. Though not as much as me.”

Lorenzo flourished a bow. “Threefold are the pleasure and honor mine.”

They talked on, merrily, till evening. Conversation with him was easy to maintain, despite his curiosity about the lands she claimed to have come from and to have seen. Like practically every man, he could be steered onto discoursing of himself. Unlike most, he made it interesting.