âI didnât pray for the Father. If he had my prayers added to the others, maybe God would have kept him safe. Itâs my stupid fault heâs dead!â
Lincoln again found it hard to walk and mind-delve simultaneously.
âYou donât have to walk when youâre out of phase,â Medeea advised him, and she pointed a finger in the air. Immediately, Lincolnâs 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 Ugilinoâs toes being stubbed on loose cobblestones and the burning of his lungs from pushing himself to get to the funeral. Finally, Lincoln couldnât take any more of the turmoil which was Ugilinoâs 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.
âI disconnected you, sweetie,â the A.I. said. âYou did incredibly well for your first time.â She reached up to Lincolnâs 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.
âFeltrino!â
The younger Lincoln, Hansum and Shamira were standing a few paces away with Father Lurenzano. Feltrino was bowing to the bishop, then the Master â and now Guilietta.
Chapter 7
Hansum couldnât help it. When he said Feltrinoâs 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 Councilâs 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.
âIâm . . . Iâm okay,â Hansum said to Arimus, but when he followed his mentorâs gaze and looked down at his own hands, he saw himself gripping and re-gripping them into fists.
âYes, I see your level of self-control
is certainly something for you to extol.â
Hansum didnât 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 Hansumâs fists began clenching and unclenching again.
âRelax, my boy, relax,â 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, âWatch this,â and he leaned forward and whispered something in Guiliettaâs
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