The Shades of Time

by Diane Nelson

  "I cannot explain, Papà, but I fear an evil influence, from that woman, perhaps from another source. There is one other player I have not yet identified. I came close tonight but failed to find him. And it vexes me."

  "Yes, I have felt it also. So much so that my malady cripples me. Tell me more."

  "I suspect that Veluria has powers that go beyond even my own. She can control how you feel. I think she has enraptured Stefano, bewitched him … I don't know what to call it. But I can tell you I have been the victim of its powers, both from her and from this unnamed entity."

  "So you now believe that sending him to Friedrich's will insulate him from that woman's powers. Why not just steal him away yourself? You have the means to hide him. Why would you agree to this arranged marriage when you feel so strongly he will be unhappy?"

  "Because he has changed, Papà, changed because of me. He no longer knows himself. I fear for him. And I cannot trust him to act in his own, or our, best interests. Placing him at the Habsburg court would be like hiding him in plain sight. I would know where he is and the Duke's residence is not so far that I cannot keep an eye on him."

  Cosimo nodded sagely, clearly impressed with his eldest's reasoning. Though convoluted, and beginning from a premise far removed from the initial justifications, the logic remained sound and the outcome potentially favorable.

  "I am still curious what you plan to do with the French woman."

  "Study her."

  "Ah. And perhaps bring her back home to Florence? My tasks here are nearly completed. Our cousin, Guilio, the good Cardinal, returns to the Vatican as we speak. Our shipping arrangements are in order. There is nothing more to hold me in this den of pirates."

  "Then I shall return home with or without her. But I promise you this … she will no longer influence my brother."

  "Just take care, Tonio. You are strong, yes. But never underestimate the powers of a woman, especially that one."

  "I understand." Antonio walked to the terrace door, swung it open and waved to his man standing on the dock below the walled gardens. "I must make additional arrangements so that their escape does not appear too easy. I assume you will see to the details with the Duke?"

  "Yes, and send me Luca. Unless you have need…?"

  "No, good choice. I will caution him to follow your instructions to the letter. Now, until the morrow…"

  "Tonio? How are you getting to Spagna?"

  Antonio grimaced. "By horseback."

  "But you don't like…" Cosimo objected, but his son had already vanished into the thick night.

  ****

  Morning eased in, stifling with cloying humidity. Veluria lifted her skirts and stepped around a mound of hemp line littering the deck. She had traded her ornate gown for a simpler travel garment of finely woven silk but without the voluminous undergarments and stays. She felt pounds lighter though the fabric held the heat and was still grossly uncomfortable. Sweat trickled down her spine and beaded on her forehead. All around deckhands chattered and moved with precision, like a well-choreographed dance troupe, as the rowers carefully guided the ship away from the dock.

  She was about to enter the aft cabin when shouting from the southern portion of the dockyard caught her attention. A group of five or six men, all sporting burgundy doublets and brandishing short swords raced along the dock that paralleled the extension from which their ship moved with agonizing slowness. A quartermaster and two burley dockworkers stepped into their path. Veluria tried to move toward the rail for a better look but Stefano grasped her shoulders and pulled her toward the cabin.

  "My father's men," he gasped. "Get inside and stay there."

  Veluria tried to object but her lover hustled out the door, shutting and locking it from the outside. The air in the tiny cabin reeked of stale rum, urine and other noxious odors. That they would have to spend possibly weeks on the vessel made her stomach churn. Worse yet, having to entertain Stefano's increasingly unappetizing requests in and out of bed gave her further pause as to the wisdom of joining him on this insane flight from his family.

  Not that I had a lot of choice in the matter.

  She had the gut level feeling that she had seriously miscalculated Stefano's motivations. When he had opened to her, revealing what his Demon brother had done, how it had felt, how it had triggered a host of hidden desires, she had been appalled. She vowed to save him from the Dark One's evil influence, to protect him as best she could. Running away was only one of several options, but it had the value of buying her time to work out a more permanent solution. And for all she knew, saving Stefano might be the pivotal event that reset the timeline and saved both their worlds.

  The ship rocked fore and aft as if meeting swells. They must be getting underway. She heard no more shouting other than the deckhands going about their business. Stefano knocked softly, then opened the door. He grinned at her.

  "Definitely father's men. They were too late. We'll be safe now, my darling."

  "But how would they know to come here?"

  "This is Venezia, my love. The walls have ears." Stefano pulled her toward the narrow bunk. "Now, we have all the time in the world. I have some ideas how we can spend that. Do you want to hear…?"

  Veluria cringed inwardly. No, she did not want to hear. She fervently prayed for seasickness or some malady to keep her bed-ridden for the extent of the voyage. The best she could do was tamp down her energies so as not to feed the young man's fantasies. Though fully schooled to indulge her partner's every proclivity, she found Stefano's fixation on pain and submission personally distasteful.

  Confused and wishing for guidance, Veluria fingered the talisman hidden in her bodice—her escape route, her court of last resort. She had been in this dimension less than two months yet it seemed a lifetime and she was no closer to divining the who, the what or the how that would soon impact their worlds. She wished their statisticians were wrong, but they never were. And Reverend Mother, gifted with prognostication, had foreseen something so dire that she had taken a personal interest in the selection and training of her, their most experienced operative.

  She listened to Stefano's hurried explanation, thinking … yes I can do that thing, just this once. If I shut my eyes and imagine…

  Her mind's eye filled with the image of a giant of a man—a dangerous, dark man—frightening in his intensity. Yet his touch was gentle, his heart fragile and welcoming. He seemed to haunt her every waking moment, her every dream, her every retreat into the safe house implanted by the sisterhood to shield her from the deprecations of her male prey. He was more than just the holder of the key. He had the potential to be the key—his violence, his energies, his connections, his family—all these things made him the nexus around which the drama would unfold. And she had left him in Venice … or had she?

  Somehow he had managed to stow away in her heart, hijacking her carefully shielded feelings and giving her surcease from the sick mind of his damaged brother. She would need to find a way to rectify her mistakes before it was too late for all of them. She knew it was already too late for her.

  ****

  Andreas leaned against the pillar next to the dock. All of his players had scattered to the four winds. The youngest brother, and he assumed the operative, had sailed that morning. The eldest had left for the mainland on a "journey of some importance" according to a chatty oarsman. The elder Medici made plans to return to Florence. Even the Cardinal had deserted the city.

  For once, Andreas felt at odds with his assignment. His entire leg ached no matter how much energy he fed it. He feared he faced surgery and an extensive period of painful rehabilitation if he could not have a real medic tend to the ankle, and soon. Though he walked in a shadow existence, whatever transpired in this world affected his physical being in his own. He no longer could afford to ignore the warning signs. He would return to his dimension and report to the Council, perhaps prevail upon them to send someone else while he healed. Whatever their decision, however uncomfortable they made him, no
matter how much derision he would endure, he desperately needed to let his battered body repair itself. Otherwise he, and they, had no hope of figuring out the specific threat to their timeline. He could not fix what he could not identify. And perhaps one of the scientists would have figured out how to deal with an operative from the Sisterhood. Better yet, how to get rid of her.

  Andreas slipped away from the docks. No one noticed or remarked on the odd cleric with the pronounced limp, a smallish man in a cowl, head bent in silent prayer, ghosting into the shadows.

  ****

  "I don't like it, Tonio."

  "I'm not asking you to like it, Nico. But I am out of options. The Duke's men arrived a day ahead of me. They have position and we do not. We play this my way and we have a chance to secure the prize."

  "And that being…?"

  "The woman."

  "I still don't see how sacrificing our brother is worth the price just so you can drag this tart to hell and gone to do some experiments. If she is like us, so what?"

  Antonio stared down at Nico. "More than like us, brother. Much more. There are depths to this one that must be explored."

  "And what happens when you are finished with her, huh? Do you go to Tyrol and rescue Stefano, bring him home? Or is he relegated to life imprisonment just so you and father can have a new toy to play with?"

  The allegation that Veluria was nothing more than a plaything stung. At one level it was true, by necessity. As long as he treated her as an object, a specimen, he avoided the adolescent pining that disrupted his nights and corrupted his days with racing thoughts and yearnings. He'd never before felt such the fool. There seemed no logic he could bring to bear to change his circumstances.

  Nico asked, "Tonio, are you all right?" His voice held an edge of concern. "I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect."

  Tonio acknowledged the apology with a slight nod but quickly pressed to explain why he had changed his position on Stefano being under the hegemony of the Habsburg court. It had nothing to do with Cosimo's plotting and everything to do with keeping his confused sibling safe for the time being.

  "Nico, you know him, you know how he shines with all that pandering and preening at the courts. He lives for that. He will adjust to his surroundings. He always has, it is his special gift. Without Veluria's influence, he will once more flower as the herald of Florentine culture and sophistication."

  Nico roared with laughter. "Such pretty words, spoken with eloquence. Tell me, what have you done with Tonio? Fetch me my brother for I miss him sorely."

  "This isn't funny, Nico. Don't make light of what has happened to Stefano. And for that I must take the blame."

  "Yes, for that you must and will. And I warned you, brother, do not hurt him again. I meant it then, I mean it now."

  Nico held up his wine goblet and motioned for the innkeeper for a refill. As they waited for their wine, he probed his brother discretely. Exhausted from the trip Tonio allowed the intrusion, taking no offense. But when he probed into areas that Tonio designated off-limits, even to himself, he shut down. Nico gave him a grimace of pain—the experience would have been akin to ramming his fist into a psychic stone wall: solid and secure and opaque.

  "Don't bother, Nico, you can't do that anymore. I learned this from her."

  And from that stranger who dared to control my actions.

  His younger brother looked surprised. "Well then, perhaps you are correct. That is a useful skill. I may have need for her myself. Are we going to share the bounty or must I petition Papà for my fair share?"

  "Petition away, you greedy bastard. You were always into my things."

  Tonio smiled indulgently at Nico—so different in looks and coloring from the rest of the clan—that most did not immediately recognize him as a Medici. That simple accident of nature often bought him valuable time and goodwill under stressful circumstances. It also made him inordinately attractive to the ladies of the Spanish courts who favored his exotic good looks and stocky build.

  The innkeeper returned with wine and plates of cheese and fruits. The brothers settled in to talk of better times when all three were boys with no worries other than getting each other into trouble. When the afternoon shadows grew long, Tonio stretched and mumbled, "Time to go, Nico."

  "Yes. I will take care of the dock master. No one will interfere, no one will ask questions later. Do what you have to do and I wish you Godspeed, brother. The arrangements at the coast should meet with your approval."

  Nico rose from the table, leaned forward and squeezed his brother's shoulder. A short blast of energy flashed between them. Nico shuddered and backed away unsteadily, unsure of what Tonio had just fed him.

  "Dolcissimo Gesù, che cosa era quella?"he husked, "what the fuck...?"

  "Now I am the one who is sorry, mio fratello. Now you know what I know."

  Mostly, but hopefully not everything.

  Some things were not to be shared no matter how close he was to his brother. In any case, Nico would need quiet time in the arms of his mistress to mull over all the chaotic images and thoughts he'd just imparted. With luck, perhaps his smarter brother could sort out the jumbled mess and come up with another plan. A plan that did not involve putting his heart at risk and his youngest brother in the clutches of conniving dukes.

  Tonio watched Nico exit the inn. Already he regretted involving his brother, though he'd had little choice given the few assets at his disposal. Fingering the goblet he lost himself in introspection. Wherever he turned his world seemed on the threshold of disintegration, decisions that once could be justified with cold logic were now riddled with hidden consequences.

  Who am I? Was he the man who would betray his own brother in pursuit of some nebulous greater good? Or was that betrayal based on something baser, more self-serving? He knew many like that. He just never thought he would become one of them.

  Maybe the question is: What am I?

  Antonio threw some coins on the table and stalked out the door. The inn sat two long blocks from the harbor. His men had sighted the ship carrying Stefano and Veluria out by the point. If they were correct about the wind shifts and the tide, then he could expect them to disembark before dusk. He knew the Duke's men were stationed about the wharf.

  The Reichstag pretender would leave nothing to chance. Stefano was a prize well worth extra effort. The position of Friedrich's duchy in the shifting alliances of the Reichstag rested on convincing the reluctant bridegroom to accept Teutonic hospitality and provide him with heirs. With three daughters and a proven stud of impeccable pedigree, his Duchy's future would be secure.

  Tonio found a narrow alleyway running crosswise to the docks where he settled in to wait, out of sight of the Duke's men. He still had time to once more examine his motives. The reasoning, the logic was sound. The outcomes reasonably predictable.

  At some point he would come to terms with the fact that it was all a lie.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Antonio crossed to the opposite side of the narrow passageway, still keeping out of line of sight of the Duke's men stationed at all points that bottlenecked egress from the ship. He could see the gangway clearly and kept a sharp eye as it disgorged deckhands to secure lines and see to arrangements for off-loading cargo.

  To his knowledge his brother and paramour were the only passengers. Angry voices from the stern caught his attention. He recognized Stefano's irritated bark, the plaintive note prominent when he was not getting his way. Tonio was surprised that the irritation was aimed solely at the tiny figure emerging from the cabin. He could not make out the words nor could he fathom from the intonation what the argument was about. Whatever it was, it appeared to be mutual.

  Stefano made one last comment, then stalked down the gangway into the waiting mass of the Duke's guard. Antonio was still too far away to hear clearly, but it appeared that the captain of the guard made a strong case for his brother to accompany the group. He was shocked to see Stefano march away with nary a backward glance at the woman now standi
ng stranded and alone at the top of the gangway.

  The small figure seemed wan, tired, her hair a tangled mass of dull black strands. She moved awkwardly, stiffly, as if she'd been ill for a long time. Her energies tracked as weak and diffuse—she looked pathetic, confused and in need of a bath and a good meal.

  Veluria? What the hell—?

  Antonio willed patience, keeping his senses tuned to the woman while he watched his brother and the Duke's escort squad retreat toward the town center. He couldn't risk being seen by Friedrich's men—his sheer size removed any hope of anonymity and he had no wish to explain his presence and risk upsetting his plans, such as they were. Nico's intervention and assistance rested on a confluence of luck and timing—there would be no second chance.

  He also knew there were other, more compelling reasons to hesitate. For all his resolve, just seeing Veluria sent his gut into a tailspin, heat flooding his groin and making him light-headed. And that had nothing to do with her using any special siren powers … no, he seemed quite capable of driving himself mad with lust all on his own.

  He approached the gangway cautiously until time seemed suspended, divorced from the frenetic movement and incessant noise of commerce. A familiar bouquet of brine and the rank odor of decay assaulted his nostrils. The wave of dock workers swept about him, giving him wide berth. With his face set in the comfort of a scowl he lifted his eyes to stare at the deck, fully expecting the woman to have bolted for the safety of her cabin.

  Instead, Veluria gazed down at him and smiled shyly. She looked neither shocked nor outraged to see him standing there. In fact, a fleeting wisp of hope and relief crossed her pale features. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was happy to see him.

  The blood left his head in a rush and it took all his strength not to bolt up the gangway and sweep her into his arms.