polishing weapons. Grooms paused in brushing horses. Knights in long surcoats who stood in companionable clusters glanced up, and those at the chessboard stopped their play. Noel’s instincts went on alert.
“I don’t like this,” he said softly.
Frederick’s eyes were wide, but he kept his head high. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. “If they want trouble, I vow they will have it.”
“Keep your head,” said Noel harshly. He glanced back at the other knights and saw they were looking somber and watchful.
“D’Angelier,” called a man in a blue surcoat embellished with brown chevrons, “you travel light this year. Is that your sorcerer with you?”
A sense of cold dismay crawled straight to Noel’s bones. He shot a grim look in Frederick’s direction and saw anger and worry mingled in the boy’s expression. Noel swallowed. During the council of war in Sir Olin’s chambers, they had argued over whether Frederick could handle this situation. Sir Olin and Noel had said yes, and Lord Theodore had said no. At the moment it looked like Theodore might be proven right.
“I keep no sorcerer for a pet, Mathieu Phrangopoulos,” said Frederick. His voice rang out too loudly perhaps and held a hint of a quaver, but it was stronger than Noel expected. “I trust in God, rather than my horoscope.”
Some of the onlookers chuckled, and the tension loosened noticeably. Noel realized Frederick referred to an inside joke at this knight’s expense. It was gutsy of the kid. Noel smiled to himself.
“No,” said Sir Mathieu, swaggering forward. He was a thin whippet of a man, bearded, with intense dark eyes. ‘Talk says that your father has fallen under a spell. He does not travel with you tonight, boy. Is Sir Olin indisposed?“
“He is well,” retorted Frederick. “He arrives tomorrow with the rest of his train, and you may tell your brother so.”
The knights laughed loudly at this, and one said, “The banty has fire. Hell’s teeth, he ought to join the lists.”
Frederick puffed up with visible pride. “And I will,” he boasted, “once I am knighted. I’ll-”
“Does Sir Olin’s coming mean he will swear fealty to my brother?” asked Sir Mathieu.
Noel tensed again, furious at the man’s insistence.
“My father is coming,” said Frederick, cocky and insolent now. “He could have stayed home.”
“But if he-”
“Politics are for Sir Magnin to discuss with my father,” interrupted Frederick. “I have horses to feed and a camp to set up. Excuse me, sir.”
He spurred his mount to a trot and Noel jounced along beside him. They held silence, not looking at each other, until they were out of earshot. Frederick wheeled into their campsite and jumped down. Only then did he crow merrily and slap Noel on the leg while Noel was still dismounting.
They looked at each other in the shadows and burst into laughter.
“I put him in his place, did I not?” said Frederick. “I would love to use him for a quintain. How he enjoys sneering at Father every chance he gets. Calls us country bumpkins and puts on his fine court airs. Oh, it felt good, Noel, to speak to him sharply and get away with it. Father will never stoop to reply to his barbs, but I say that-”
“He isn’t the relative that we’re trying to get on our side, is he?” asked Noel worriedly.
“Oh, no, not him. Sir Magnin has four sisters, and Peter Phrantzes married the eldest,” said Frederick. “Did you see Sir Mathieu’s face when I-”
“Yes, yes, Frederick,” said Noel with a smile. “You did great. I’ll leave you to this, all right? It’s time I looked around.”
“But you said we would explore the town together,” said Frederick, his maturity falling from him in an instant. “I want to go to the fair.”
Noel curbed his impatience with difficulty. “You’ll see the fair. I won’t be long.”
He turned away, but Frederick caught his arm. “I do not think you should go off by yourself. Sir Mathieu can cause you mischief if your paths cross. Father said we should all stick together for safety.”
Gently Noel took Frederick’s hand from his sleeve. “Your father is wise. But I won’t stray far. I’ll be fine. And if I don’t get back quick enough to suit you, start the fair without me.”
“But, Noel-”
“I’ll be all right.”
With a smile, Noel moved into the darkness and made his way hastily behind a row of tents, avoiding the torchlight as much as possible. He found a shallow gully and dropped into it, threading his way through brush and stumping his toes on rocks unseen in the starlight. He winced, hating cloth shoes, and limped on until he felt far enough away from people.
Crouching in the bottom of the gully, he listened a moment to the crickets and the sound of his own breathing. Above him on the hill, the dark shape of the palace walls loomed against the night sky. Below him, torchlight twinkled and the lively sound of lutes twanging out dance music floated on the air.
“LOC, activate,” he said.
His copper bracelet shimmered, and the real shape of the LOC appeared, its clear sides pulsing with the light circuitry operating inside.
“Acknowledged,” it replied.
“LOC,” he said, “scan internal diagnostics. Is return possible?”
“Specify.”
“Voluntary return, dammit!” he said. “Come on. You know what I’m talking about. Chicago. Time Institute. Monday, May 14, 2503 A.D. You still have that destination code, don’t you?”
“Negative.”
His head felt cold and light as though someone had lopped it off and sent it spinning through the air. For a moment he simply sat there, then he blinked and was able to think again.
“Impossible!” he said sharply. “I’ve asked you that question before, and you have ‘return time and destination codes. Scan safety-chain program and verify.”
The LOC hummed while Noel wiped the perspiration from his face and put his hand on the back of his neck, tilting back his head to ease tension.
“Verified,” said the LOC. “Time and destination codes for return in place.”
“That’s better,” said Noel. “How about self-repairs?”
“Some repair possible.”
The last time he’d asked this question, the LOC had said no repair was possible. Now, hope hit him like a skyrocket.
“Sufficient?” he asked eagerly.
“Unknown.”
“Continue scan of safety-chain program. How much time remaining?”
“Running… program ends in twenty-two hours, fifty-two minutes-”
“Stop,” said Noel, sweating. This was down to the wire. “Is there anyone on the other end? I wonder. Have the anarchists blown up the old TI?”
“I am not able to scan this material,” said the LOC.
“I know. You can’t get me back. You can’t tell me how to fix you so we can get back. You can’t even open a direct communications line to them because for all we know they don’t even exist as history stands right now. So what good are you?”
“Rhetorical question,” said the LOC.
“Yeah,” said Noel bitterly. “What about it?”
“Rhetorical-”
“Stop!” He shoved his fingers through his hair several times until he regained control of his emotions. Stressing out wouldn’t help. Besides, he needed to think how to ask his next series of questions without running the LOC straight into a malfunction warning. “Okay. Run hypothesis.”
“Ready.”
“If I succeed in restoring Theodore to power at any point within my time margin, will recall function? Can I
