himself.
Lincoln opened his eyes to see what Ugilino was doing. He was just squatting there, eyes open, a sad, blank look on his face.
Ugilino was now remembering the last time he saw Father Aaron. It was in the market and Signora Baroni had cleaned and salved the big cut the Master had given him. She told him to go wash the rest of himself at the fountain before going home and Ugilino, now scrubbed and still wet, was starting off home when he saw Father Aaron talking to the herbalist.
âThe Father has come to pay Signora Baroni for fixinâ my head,â he thought. âThe Father does not lie and cheat like everybody else. He does what he says he will do.â Ugilino remembered walking up to the Father and herbalist, catching them by surprise. Father Aaron was talking to the Signora, and when he got close, he could hear they were talking in some odd language. He remembered only one strange word from the conversation. â. . . Australia . . .â
Lincoln looked at Medeea. She raised her eyebrows, like she was asking Lincoln, âSo, do you know what to do now?â Lincoln closed his eyes and went back into Ugiâs mind. Remembering what he was told to do in a case like this at one of the lectures, he dove deeper into Ugilinoâs memory. Ugi might not be able to recall the conversation he had overheard, but it was there, buried. The neuron degradation might not make it possible for complete recovery, but it would be close.
âAh, here it is.â
âSo, Catherine. Have you been home to Australia lately?â Arimus had said in Earth Common.
âYes, I was home a month with my family,â Signora Baroni answered. âI just got back a few days ago.â
Lincolnâs eyes popped open again.
âSignora Baroni is a History Camp elder?â he asked Medeea.
Again, she shrugged. âWeâll talk of that later. Get back in there.â
Lincoln put a hand to his head and leapt back into Ugiâs mind. Ugilino remembered the Father being surprised to see him as he turned. Then the priest smiled. Ugi, and thus Lincoln, watched Father Aaron looking at the different, freshly washed parts of Ugilino, touching his wet hair in a friendly fashion.
âWhat language was that you and the Signora spoke?â Ugilino asked.
âOh, Herbalist Baroni and I are old friends,â Arimus replied evasively, but still smiling.
âThatâs what I . . . like . . . about you Father. You are friends with everybody. You have no enemies,â Ugilino had said, but now he cursed himself. âWhy did I say âlikeâ? I wanted to say âloveâ. Why, why, why?â
Thatâs when Father Aaron had given him the satchel of herbs to take home for his mistress. He told Ugi to tell everybody he would be back in a month. Then he put his arm around Ugilino and walked with him a bit. Lincoln felt the warm feeling Ugilino got from knowing that someone was not afraid to touch his ugly body.
âIâm going on a journey through the mountains, Ugilino,â the Father had said. âPray for me as I shall pray for you. Remember, in this world where we donât know when God will call us to him, believe in yourself and remember always, God loves you and . . . I love you.â
Lincoln now knew Arimus was telling Ugilino this because he was going to fake his own death, and this would be the last time he could ever talk to the youth. Now that Lincoln could see into the mind of the boy, he felt sorry for him.
Lincoln felt a break in his subjectâs thoughts and opened his eyes again. Ugilino had finished his business and was standing up. A church bell began to peal in the distance. It rang eight times.
âI still might be able to get to the funeral,â Ugilino thought as he pulled up his braise and quickly tied the cord. He began to run, remembering Father Arimus asking him, âPray for me,â and tears began to run from Ugilinoâs eyes again.
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