afford to wait until the last minute with this?”
The LOC hummed to itself a long time. “Affirmative.”
Noel grinned. “Continue hypothesis. Question. If I return, what will happen to Leon?”
The LOC did not reply.
“Will he die?” asked Noel sharply. “Will he cease to exist?”
“Unknown.”
“Can he be brought through with me?”
“Possibility figures are seventy-eight percent.”
Noel stared awhile into the night. He didn’t like Leon, but he didn’t want to be the cause of his duplicate’s death either. However, judging from the LOC’s scanty answers, Leon might just be forced to tag along in the return to the twenty-sixth century. Then the Time Institute could decide what was to be done with him.
All Noel had to do was make it through one more day, take care of his duplicate, and make certain Theodore won the joust. Right then he had no doubt of success. The pieces of his plan were all falling into place.
“Deactivate,” he said and stood up to return to camp.
A figure detached itself from the shadows and leapt into the gully ahead of him, blocking his path.
Startled, Noel stumbled back and reached for his sword.
“I have an arrow trained on you,” said familiar, husky tones. “Do not draw your weapon.”
Noel swallowed and left his sword in its scabbard. “Elena,” he said quickly. ‘This is-“
“Say nothing! There is a reward on your head. I want it.”
Noel frowned. Sir Geoffrey must have been imagining things. Elena was no zombie. In fact, she sounded hornet mad.
“Elena,” he said, “you don’t really want to turn me in-”
He heard the dull twang of the bowstring a split second before the arrow hit him high in the left shoulder. It was either a remarkable display of skill in the darkness or a damned lucky shot. Either way, the impetus of the arrow fired at such close range drove him backward. He slammed into the side of the gully. The pain came then, hot and intense and deep. He gripped the shaft with his right hand and pulled himself upright although he had to lean against the bank for support.
His strength drained rapidly. If he was bleeding he couldn’t tell. The very thought of tugging out the arrow made him sweat.
Elena ran to his side and turned him to face her. His knees buckled, and he slid down against the bank.
“Why?” His voice was a weak thread. He battled back the pain and shock, aware that he needed his wits about him.
She said nothing. There was brisk purpose in her hands as she felt along his chest and shoulders. She bumped the arrow with her wrist, and he felt as though all the cartilage in his shoulder was being twisted like spaghetti on a spoon.
“For God’s sake!” he said, gasping. He caught her hand. “Don’t pull it out yet.”
She drew her hand from his and felt down his arm. Her hair, rough and smelling of grass and woodsmoke, swung against his face. She knelt before him, and her fingers found his left wrist.
He was going numb in his arm. Maybe that meant nerves were torn. Maybe that meant shock or blood loss. He didn’t know or care. Right now, the absence of feeling was a relief.
She tugged at his arm. Thinking she wanted him to stand up, he pushed her weakly away.
“Let me rest,” he said.
She tugged again, harder. Dimly he realized the bracelet was slipping on his wrist. She was trying to take his LOC.
“Hey!” he said sharply. He shoved her back. “Leave that alone.”
She reached for it again, as silent and as determined as an android programmed to perform a task.
Leon, he thought.
The puzzle pieces fit together with a snap. Somehow Leon had planted the suggestion in her to steal the LOC. If he got the computer in his possession, there would be no going home for Noel.
“No!” he shouted.
Her fingers slid beneath the copper band. The light shock administered did not deter her. Noel drew back his right fist and socked her in the jaw. She toppled over and he nearly fell with her. He pushed himself up, out of breath and shivery. The fletched end of the arrow raked the ground, and the corresponding agony made him groan. He had to get the thing out, but not now. She might wake up at any moment, and in this condition he was no match for her.
With effort, he made it to his feet and stumbled downhill toward camp. The stars overhead that had sparkled so beautifully upon the velvet sky now spun and swooped at him, making him dizzy. He staggered into a bush, and its sturdy branches swayed beneath his weight but kept him from falling.
He had to get to camp… had to hide… price on him… bounty collectors… Leon searching…
Somehow he kept going. Sweat poured into his eyes. He paused, swaying, to wipe it away.
The tent loomed ahead of him, the d’Angelier pennon hanging limply from its top. He remembered then that Frederick had gone, but someone would be there to guard the horses and possessions. A measure of hope sent him staggering forward. His hand stretched out to touch the white expanse of canvas.
Someone tackled him from behind, pitching him forward on his face. He barely had time to register that his attacker was Elena before the ground drove the arrow clean through his shoulder and snapped the shaft.
If he screamed he did not know it. Blinding agony convulsed him, and he was helpless against it.
It took an eternity for the terrible pain to recede. He found himself lying exhausted and limp. He was alone.
Elena had gone, and the sounds of a piping flute in the distance floated shrilly above the laughter and noise of the crowd. He heard the wheedling calls of peddlers. He heard a woman’s voice raised angrily after a cutpurse, calling on people to stop the thief. He heard a groom crooning softly to a horse, which rumbled and snorted in response. Help was close, so close, yet he could not find the strength to call out.
Possessed, Sir Geoffrey had said. Noel hadn’t believed it. He should have taken it as a warning. He shouldn’t have let his attraction to her distract him.
Easy to say now what he should or shouldn’t have done. Easy to say next time he would be more careful.
He blinked, conscious of the ground pressing into his cheek, and thought he’d better move a bit. Squirming about finally enabled him to roll over onto his right side. He rested, clutching his left elbow for support. There was blood now, the smell of it thick in his nostrils. He could feel it, wet and unpleasant, sticking his tunic to his skin.
Elena must have gone to alert the guards. After all, she had a reward to collect. But it seemed odd that she should have attacked him like a cougar stalking its prey, then left him here unfinished like this.
A sudden sense of foreboding filled him. Noel swept his hand down his left forearm. The bracelet was gone. Disguised as a cheap band of copper, it was a trinket of little worth to the local merchants. The idea of Elena selling it to a pawnbroker made him ill. He struggled to sit up, carried more on fear than strength. The LOC was all the lifeline he had left. He had to get it back.
“Slow down,” he whispered aloud, sweat pouring off his face. The pain in his shoulder was brutal. His senses swam from the effort he was expending. “Think. You’ve got to think.”
She wasn’t going to sell the bracelet; she was taking it to Leon.
Come tomorrow night, Leon would wink back to the twenty-sixth century. He could take Noel’s place, and no one would ever know. He could travel again in time if he chose. He could wreak havoc elsewhere in history if he failed to do so here. He would be gone, and Noel would be trapped here forever.
‘ No,“ said Noel, scooting himself along.
He reached one of the tall tent stakes and gripped it, groaning loudly with the effort of pulling himself to his feet. The ground swirled around him. His head felt as though it floated miles above his body. None of that mattered, however. He had to find Leon, and he had to do it now before Leon accessed the data banks and learned how to really cause harm. The isomorphic design of the controls mightn’t stop him; after all, he was a duplicate.
Straightening his body took all the strength reserves Noel still possessed. He stared up the hill at the castle, its black crenellations outlined against the starry sky. An owl hooted nearby in the darkness, making a low mournful
