The Loved and the Lost by Lory Kaufman Page B

‘I didn’t pray for the Father. If he had my prayers added to the others, maybe God would have kept him safe. It’s my stupid fault he’s dead!’
    Lincoln again found it hard to walk and mind-delve simultaneously.
    â€œYou don’t have to walk when you’re out of phase,” Medeea advised him, and she pointed a finger in the air. Immediately, Lincoln’s feet rose a few inches off the ground and he began floating close to the weeping Ugilino. Ugilino ran and ran, all the while berating himself for being the murderer of the only person who had acted consistently kind to him. Lincoln even felt Ugilino’s toes being stubbed on loose cobblestones and the burning of his lungs from pushing himself to get to the funeral. Finally, Lincoln couldn’t take any more of the turmoil which was Ugilino’s life. He was just about to disengage the delve when his mind went silent. He blinked and looked at Medeea who, despite speeding along, smiled at him like they were alone on a picnic.
    â€œI disconnected you, sweetie,” the A.I. said. “You did incredibly well for your first time.” She reached up to Lincoln’s face. He felt her caress it, and put a hand to his own face. His cheeks were wet with tears.
    One hundred paces from Basilica San Zeno, Ugilino spied the funeral procession coming onto the concourse from the direction of the crypts. Ugi was indeed too late and Lincoln watched Ugilino collapse in the roadway and begin weeping. While not in his mind anymore, Lincoln could now empathize with this person he had previously considered as only a joke.
    Standing around the steps of San Zeno, Lincoln saw his younger self with the rest of the family, as well as priests and monks. The Master and Guilietta were standing by the bishop, but there was also someone else there, someone the older Lincoln had very sour feelings about.
    â€œFeltrino!”
    The younger Lincoln, Hansum and Shamira were standing a few paces away with Father Lurenzano. Feltrino was bowing to the bishop, then the Master — and now Guilietta.
Chapter 7
    Hansum couldn’t help it. When he said Feltrino’s name, he actually growled, and this in the middle of saying how he had his anger under control. While one part of his mind seethed with rage, another was frantically exhorting itself to cool down. Getting the History Camp Time Travel Council’s permission to become a time traveler and help save Guilietta was at stake.
    So, Hansum bit his lip and said nothing more. He watched Feltrino standing haughtily on the steps as the funeral procession finished its walk from the catacombs.
    â€œI’m . . . I’m okay,” Hansum said to Arimus, but when he followed his mentor’s gaze and looked down at his own hands, he saw himself gripping and re-gripping them into fists.
    â€œYes, I see your level of self-control
is certainly something for you to extol.”
    Hansum didn’t respond to the sarcasm. Instead, he looked straight ahead, trying to see the good things about the scene in front of him. The Master was being seen chatting in public with the bishop of San Zeno. That was good for business. He and Guilietta had just touched hands for the first time. That was a nice memory. He felt under more control.
    Forcing a smile, Hansum watched Feltrino step forward and bow to the bishop and then the Master. As he knew he would, Feltrino turned his gaze on Guilietta, who lowered her eyes. The older Hansum watched his younger self step forward to intervene, only to be jerked back by Father Lurenzano. The older Hansum’s fists began clenching and unclenching again.
    â€œRelax, my boy, relax,” Arimus said.
    Hansum forced a counterfeit smile again. He saw Feltrino and the younger Hansum lock gazes, Feltrino reflexively putting a hand to his sword. Feltrino smirked, as if to say to an unworthy rival, “Watch this,” and he leaned forward and whispered something in Guilietta’s