Read Online The Loved and the Lost by Lory Kaufman - Free Book Online Page B

them.
    Hansum began walking slowly behind the couple, letting the distance between them grow. They were now visible only as silhouettes in the moonlight. He heard them giggling and saw them stop to kiss and pet. He wouldn’t let himself be hurried by Arimus, insisting on keeping a discreet distance.
    â€œI must remind you,
We cannot be detected.”
    â€œWe’re close enough,” Hansum insisted. That’s when they lost sight of them and Hansum knew they had come to the empty guard room. Hansum stopped.
    â€œIt’s all right to see this tenderness.”
    â€œIt’s not necessary,” Hansum said somewhat sternly, but Arimus just raised a finger, rotated it once in the air and they were instantly site transported in front of the open garderoom door. Hansum was positioned so he could not help but see inside. His eyes widened, filled with tears and he pulled himself away and stood, back against the cold brick wall of the guardhouse. “I . . . I’ve had enough,” he said to Arimus.
    â€œPerhaps one more event, to complete the test.
And when that’s done, successful or not,
I’ll let you rest.”
    And with that, Arimus took hold of Hansum’s arm. He felt a slight tremble as the huge golden Sands of Time streaked up from the stone floor. Hansum closed his eyes and felt the walkway disappear under his feet as the roar of the vortex filled his ears.
    Quiet. Birds chirping. Then the familiar distant sound of the busy market. Hansum felt Arimus let go of his sleeve and opened his eyes. They were standing on a quiet Verona street just off the Grande Urbe market. There was only one person visible, a man standing about twenty paces away with his back to them. He was peering around the corner of a building. Beside him was a common wagon, like a farmer from the market would use. There were two horses harnessed to it. A large wagon horse and a slighter, leaner horse. Hansum froze. Those animals looked familiar. He saw the sword at the person’s waist.
    â€œSteady my boy, don’t be queasy.
Nobody said this would be easy.”
    â€œFeltrino!” Hansum hissed.
Chapter 8
    Lincoln looked down at Ugilino weeping on the ground, despondent about missing Father Aaron’s funeral. Having mind-delved Ugi, Lincoln truly knew how badly the fellow was hurting. He looked at a chipper Medeea.
    â€œIt’s not that I don’t feel sorry for the poor creature,” she said. “ I maintain a professional detachment from my subjects, a skill that you must acquire.”
    The crowd for Father Aaron’s funeral began to dispurse and Lincoln watched his younger self, along with the rest of his Verona family, begin walking home. They would have to pass right by. Ugilino made to scuttle away, but then remained put, sitting dejectedly in their path.
    â€œ Ugi thinks the Master is going to scream at him,” Medeea told Lincoln.
    The family stopped when they got to Ugilino and Lincoln saw how his younger self, Shamira and Hansum were holding onto each other for dear life.
    â€œWe were confused and frightened,” he told Medeea. “We didn’t know if this was for real or what. Man, look at us. We’re really freaked. I hardly remember stopping for Ugi.”
    Master della Cappa was standing over a visibly shaking Ugilino. Finally Ugi crawled over to the big man and lay prostrate at his feet, embracing one of his master’s boots. Agistino reached down, his hand clenched in a fist. As it reached Ugilino’s head, he hesitated, and then opened it up. He patted the prone youth. Ugilino raised his head, eyes full of tears.
    â€œI got drunk, Master. I’m so sad.”
    â€œGet up,” Agistino commanded, his stony face impossible to read. Ugilino rose, but lowered his eyes. “You saw where my drinking brought the family, Ugi,” the Master said. Ugilino looked up at the Master. “You do not want to go down that path.” He paused.