Duel Identity

Chapter 11

"I can't believe what I'm hearing!" Megan stared in shock at Leif's image on the holo connection. "You mean Roberta fell down the stairs answering the doorbell while you were pressing it?"

"No, that's not what the doctors think," Leif replied. "It's something to do with bruises having formed already, and her skin showing how dehydrated she was. The emergency services people weren't talking much- they were busy rushing her over to George Washington University Hospital. But they did tell me she was most likely collapsed at the foot of the stairs for hours- maybe all night."

"Sounds like she's lucky to be alive," Megan said numbly.

"If you call being in a coma with a cracked skull lucky." Leif's muttered response was half-drowned out by an ambulance siren in the background.

He must be calling from the hospital, she realized.

"Beats a broken neck," Megan finally managed.

That got a ghost of a smile from Leif. "Maybe. You don't think that string of bad luck she had in Latvinia leaked out into real life, do you?"

"Don't be silly," Megan replied, her voice a little sharper than she'd intended.

"At least they've got Roberta stabilized, but they have no idea when she'll come out of this. Her parents are coming home from Europe-" Leif grimaced. "And all I want to do right now is get the smell of hospital out of my nose."

He hesitated for a second, then said, "I'm down here with my dad, but he's busy with some big deal or other. You free to do anything?"

Megan shook her head. "I'm stuck here. It's my week to do the dreaded laundry-and with a family as large as ours, it really is the dreaded laundry. Then Alan asked me to link in early-what?" she asked at the look on Leif's face.

"You're going back into Latvinia after this?" Leif's expression was definitely disapproving.

"You make it sound as though we should establish a day of national mourning," Megan said. "I'm sorry for what happened to Roberta, but it's not as if she died or anything. And there's certainly no link to Latvinia. Why shouldn't we go on with the beta-test?"

Leif shrugged, but Megan knew she hadn't changed his mind. For that matter, why was she feeling so defensive about this?

"I know you'll do whatever you intend to do," Leif finally said. "I just feel it's… inappropriate. Wrong, somehow. Oh well, have fun with the laundry. I'll see you later."

Megan said goodbye and hung up the phone, vaguely disquieted by the conversation. Or maybe, she thought, it was the thought of the laundry she now had no excuse to put off that was bothering her. Shaking her head, she went off to deal with it.

Coming home to an empty apartment only intensified Leif's bad mood.

Nothing like being turned down when I ask someone out to make me feel lousy, he thought. She'd rather do laundry than see me! And sitting around alone afterward-that's just the icing on the cake.

He went to the living room computer console and put in a call to David Gray.

David picked up in the hallway of his family's apartment. Judging from the hooting and hollering in the background, his little brothers were busily inventing another of their weird games. When Leif filled him in on what had happened to Roberta, David shook his head. "Nobody deserves to have that happen to them-even if they are a pain in the butt."

He gave Leif a sidewise glance. "Although I might have a little more sympathy for her than a few other people would."

"Tell me about it," Leif said sourly. "Megan's flying right back into Latvinia-after she finishes the family laundry."

"From washerwoman to princess-you can see why the place has its attractions for her." David shook his head. "It's not quite the same for me."

"Or for me," Leif agreed. "You think it's any fun having my rump handed to me whenever I cross swords with someone? I can understand why Roberta finally got hit with lightning-she was really trying to stand the sim on its head. But-"

"You really want to see something?" David interrupted. "Go to your computer link and jack in. I'll meet you at your room in the palace."

A little surprised, Leif got up, went to his room, and set up his computer-link couch. He lay back, closed his eyes, gave the command… and found himself in Latvinia. He was glad that the program usually integrated arriving role-players in neutral settings-walking down a palace hallway, for instance. It was a lot easier than opening his eyes to find himself on a horse-or fighting a duel.

This time Leif found himself at the writing desk in his apartment at the palace. He was biting the end of an old-fashioned dip-the-point-in-the-ink pen, looking over a letter covering the events at court-including a couple Leif personally hadn't been present to see.

At a knock from the door, Leif put down his pen and went to answer. David stood in the doorway, wearing distinctly more European clothes than he usually wore as Prince Menelik.

"So, what's up?" Leif asked.

Not exactly what you'd call old-fashioned eloquence, he thought critically. In fact, it's almost babbling. Leif felt weird, linking in to Latvinia after giving Megan a hard time about her decision to visit the sim.

"Just follow me," David said, wearing his most impenetrable poker face. "I thought we'd just take a stroll through the streets of Herzen."

"Sure." Leif hadn't really had a chance to explore the capital. It might be interesting to check the city out.

Starting from the mansion district around the palace, they headed downhill to the city's ritzy carriage-trade stores. Leif walked along, taking in the various architectural styles of the buildings-and looking at the occasional pretty chambermaid sashaying by. So far, Herzen reminded him of one of those historical theme parks-just not quite so shiny and pastel. There were touches of reality; for instance, horses relieved themselves in the street frequently enough to make you watch where you were stepping.

Leif recognized the street where they'd chugged up to the palace in their vintage Mercedes. The boulevard wasn't as crowded as it had been during the impromptu parade. But there were plenty of citizens-busy burghers-moving around to shop or complete errands.

It's like watching an old-time photograph come to life, Leif thought as a carriage clattered by. Or rather, one of the colored illustrations in an old book.

They were perhaps halfway down the street when he noticed one of the coachmen turning away, flicking his hand in an odd gesture. The forefinger and pinkie seemed to point at them for a second, the two fingers in between held down with the thumb.

As the boys proceeded along to the less prosperous section of the shopping street, down the street, Leif caught more and more of those quick, surreptitious hand-flicks.

David glanced at him. "Beginning to notice, huh?"

"What-" Leif began.

David cut him off. "Do me a favor," he said. "Walk on ahead for a block or so." He turned away, apparently fascinated by something on display in a shop window.

Leif walked on alone, glancing around, using windows as mirrors. None of those odd signs.

A couple of minutes later David rejoined him. They continued along. As the neighborhood got shabbier, more and more people shot them the hand gesture, some more overtly than others.

David stopped, thrusting out an arm. "The train station is over that way, along with the warehouse district-a perfect setup for dens of thieves, or headquarters for conspiracies."

What Leif noticed however, was how passers-by avoided the pointing hand-even across the street.

Abruptly turning away, David led them in a different direction. "Over here, we have a case of urban decay-a neighborhood that would have been nicer once upon a time. They still have a park in the middle of this square."

The houses had probably been minor mansions once upon a time, and were now cut up to provide homes for several families. The trees in the square could have done with pruning, and shoots of grass thrust their way through the thin gravel on the walks. But young mothers were taking advantage of the nice weather to take their babies for a walk. Often they were accompanied by older women in head-scarves-babushkas. No one seemed to meet their gaze-but almost everyone was shooting that odd sign. If they weren't doing that, mothers and grandmothers were rearranging the kids' clothing.

David took Leif once around the park. Wherever they went, happy chattering in the peasant dialect went silent. One little guy, maybe three years old, came running along, playing some game. When he spotted David, he stopped in his tracks, staring up at David. A mother swooped down on him, hustling him away. As she nearly dragged the kid off, Leif saw one hand set in the odd sign. The other held up a scrap of red ribbon pinned to little one's collar.

"Two for two," David muttered, heading away. Leif marched along in silence until they were halfway up the high street again.

"Okay," he finally said. "What was that all about?"

"I began wondering, too, after I noticed it happening a lot," David said pleasantly. "Had a heck of a time looking it up. It appears to be a genuine aversion sign, known in Italian as the corno-the horns. It's supposed to keep away the nastier side of supernatural life, like a rabbit's foot, or those little red ribbons you noticed on the kid. They neutralize the evil eye, or keep demons at bay."

"Demons?" Leif repeated a little stupidly.

"You know." David held out one hand and rubbed the back of it vigorously. "Doesn't rub off."

"Uh, well, uh-" Leif fumbled for a minute. "I suppose that's pretty authentic. Nasty, but realistic. The farther down the road we went, the more peasants we saw. And peasants in the Balkan back in the 1900s would probably never have encountered a black person-"

"Oh, I figured all that out, thanks." David's voice was sharp. "And it would be an authentic West Texas reaction for P. J. to call me 'boy,' too."

Leif stared. "P. J. would never-none of those people-I mean, they had to be nonrole-playing characters." He finally gave up explaining what David knew all too well.

"Yeah." David looked him straight in the eyes. "It would have to be part of the program. Maybe not as obvious as a lightning bolt or a sword in the face… just a subtle way to make sure I won't feel welcome in Latvinia."

They walked in silence back to the palace, Leif troubled, David just plain angry. When they came in view of the gates, one of the guards ran to intercept them.

"What now?" David muttered. "Do we have to go in by the back door?"

"S-sirs," the breathless guard stammered. "Her Majesty and the prime minister request your presence."

Megan and Graf von Esbach sat waiting for them in the same upstairs library/study where Roberta had been exiled. As Leif and David walked in, Megan looked up from the heavy oak table where she'd been resting her elbows. It was a beautifully carved piece of furniture, with shelves for books cut into either end. Sitting on the table, right between Megan's arms, was a gold chain. It held a diamond pendant, the stone about as large as the last joint of Leif's little finger.

"One of the crown jewels," Megan told him. "About ten carats."

Leif did the math with modern diamond prices and got a good-sized number in the six-figure range. "Nice."

Megan picked up a small bronze statue and brought it down heavily on the gemstone. When she lifted it up, there was only powder on the table. "Paste," she said conversationally. "Someone switched a fake for the real diamond."

David glanced shrewdly over at the Graf von Esbach. "And I suppose you don't need three guesses to pinpoint who's behind this."

The prime minister nodded. "I heard rumors that several disreputable types connected with Gray Piotr had been seen in the vicinity of the royal vault, and took it upon myself to investigate. Now I hear that one of Piotr's henchmen has set off for Vienna. If he were to dispose of several gemstones like this one, the Master of Grauheim would have sufficient ready money to hire himself an army."

"And stage his own coup d'etat," Leif finished. He frowned. "Where can we find this henchman now?"

"He is out of the country," von Esbach said. "We have no legal way to detain him."

"But if he's in Vienna-" Fresh memories of Albrecht von Hengist called to Leif's attention, memories of disreputable characters he'd dealt with in the past. "I have certain connections there. The fellow might be found- and thwarted."

"Hold on," David suddenly said. "Time for a reality check. System, would this simulation actually allow a role-player to go to Vienna?"

A soft voice responded. "Negative. This simulation would calculate the time allowance for players traveling outside Latvinia, and arrange for an appropriate return. Actions taken outside of Latvinia would be resolved on a probability matrix-"

"That's enough, thanks," David interrupted. He shook his head in disapproval. "Not very slick designing. If you really wanted to factor in a plot twist like this, it wouldn't be that hard to program in the trip, condensing the time if necessary. I've done that myself for Mars voyages. It's kind of clunky to do it this way, running things like an old-time Dungeon Master with too many dice."

He frowned for a moment, then called on the system again. "Generate an estimate on how long players would have to be absent from Latvinia."

"Minimum journey and stay, seven to ten days," the computer replied.

David turned to Leif, one eyebrow raised, a lopsided smile on his lips.

What did he say? Leif thought. Not as obvious as a lightning bolt?

Still, Leif got the message.

"Well," he finally said. "When is the earliest we could set off?"