Charon: A Dragon at the Gate flotd-3

by Jack L. Chalker

  “Any number,” Dumonia told him. “Who knows? Perhaps Matuze herself. But, remember your own power. Their minds are still the same, and their own Warden powers will be no greater than if they were human.”

  Koril nodded. “It’s a terrible problem—here. Heavy weapons may be no good at alL Still we will work something out. We will act.”

  “Soon?”

  “As soon as possible. As soon as we have even a half-decent chance to win.”

  “That, then, will have to do,” Dumonia told him.

  Suddenly I yelled, “Zala! Zala Embuay!”

  Everybody turned and looked at me as if I’d gone mad. Darva’s expression was even worse.

  “What makes you think of her? she snapped.

  I didn’t even recognize the tinge of jealousy. “She was from Takanna! The same world as Morah!”

  Koril’s eyes fixed grimly on me. “Who is this you speak of?”

  “A woman who came to Charon with me,” I told him. “We lived together in Bourget until the showdown there.” Briefly I told him the rest—including her apparent involvement with the Destroyer’s group there and her dual personality. “In fact,” I added, “Korman was convinced that she was the Confederacy’s assassin.”

  Koril looked at Dumonia. “Is that possible? Two of them—here?”

  Dumonia shrugged. “Possibly. But nothing I know about, although, let’s face it, the Confederacy and I trust each other equally—and you know what that means.”

  The sorcerer chuckled slightly. “This woman, then—she might be here.”

  “I didn’t see her at Tully’s encampment, nor any time since that shoot-out,” I told him. “Still, if she’s here, it might be time to get some answers to some questions.”

  Koril nodded. “I quite agree.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kira

  The huge complex beneath the desert of Gamush was indeed as impressive as it had appeared at first sight. Modern, efficient, and well-staffed, it was a mighty fortress, hidden completely from visual observation and also by more than a little subterfuge. Built as a modern lab and retreat while Koril was still in power, its location was deliberately obscured on maps and charts. Those who had been to it were saddled with spells of confusion that prevented their betraying, or even finding, the place again. By the same token, the isolated technical staff in the place was really stuck without Koril’s supply missions and hardly able to betray him—or escape—even if so inclined. Tens of thousands of square kilometers of parched desert that all looked exactly the same, but in which nasty small sand predators lived—and above which the highly intelligent naril flew, ready to pounce upon and eat anything it could—were formidable barriers.

  So, should Zala have been there, she was likely to be there still. Koril’s clerks quickly located her. She had entered even before me and had been assigned mostly to maintenance. Poor Zala—even in the stronghold of the rebel headquarters she was deemed fit only to scrub the floors.

  “Surely there can’t be any connection between this woman and Morah,” Darva protested as we walked down a long hall. “I mean, she can’t be more than in her twenties—and Morah’s been here since fifteen or more years before she was born. Their background has got to be just coincidence.”

  “That’s pretty much what “Koril figures,” I told her, “but I can’t buy it. There’s simply too many mysteries about her even without this new connection. Add to that a link between her and somebody high up in the Charonese power structure and I can’t buy coincidence. There are too many worlds out there and too few prisoners sent here for that.” “You don’t still feel anything for her, do you?” I had to laugh. “Don’t worry on that score. I never really did. Oh, at first I was fascinated—Korman’s two minds, all the mystery. But when Zala stayed simple, mousy, little Zala she became boring pretty quickly. Besides, we’re hardly even of the same race anymore.” “Still, I’d like to go in with you.”

  “No! This has to be one on one. Remember, I don’t look anything like I did before, so unless she’s got some really good spies she’ll have no link between me and the Park Lacoch she knew. That gives me a big advantage. Still, we don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

  We reached our destination. I turned and kissed Darva, then smiled “Wish me luck.”

  “Depends,” she responded cautiously, but let me go into the room without further protest.

  The room had been set up according to my instructions, which meant one chair, a small table in front of it, and nothing else. I ducked my head, a habit I was getting used to, and entered the room.

  Zala looked up. I could see a mixture of awe and fright in her face that couldn’t be faked—or so I thought. I was pretty imposing, after all. I stood there a moment, just looking at her, as the door slid shut behind me.

  She looked, I had to admit, no worse for wear. Aside from the loose-fitting blue slacks and shirt which marked her as a service worker she hadn’t changed since the last time I’d seen her, there on the street so many months before. And she still had Morah’s mark on her, the horns having settled in so well that they appeared almost natural. “Zala Embuay?” I asked, sounding as officious as possible.

  She nodded hesitantly, and I caught a slight gulp, but she said nothing.

  “Zala, I’m going to give you some hard-fact ground rules right in the beginning,” I went on. “First of all, you might notice in the far corner there two small devices. One is a camera—what is going on here is being recorded. The other is an automatic laser weapon that will follow you no matter what. The door will not open until and unless I say so, and it can only be operated by the person on the other end of that camera. Do you understand?”

  She nodded weakly, but summoned up enough courage to ask, in a trembling voice, “Wha… what’s this all about? What have I done?”

  “I think you know. At first we thought you didn’t know, but now it’s been realized that you almost had to know, or at least suspect”

  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about”

  “I think you do. Tell me, you were a member of the cult of the Destroyer in Bourget?”

  She nodded hesitantly.

  “Who was the leader of the cult?”

  “I—I can’t tell you that It is forbidden.”

  “Zala, as you know well, we are the superiors of that organization. Hence, we already know the name.”

  “Then why ask me?”

  I smiled. She wasn’t quite as scared as she was pretending to be. “Because I want to see if you know.”

  “Of course I know. I said I was a member, didn’t I?”

  “Then tell me the name.”

  I could see thinking going on behind those frightened eyes. “I—I really can’t A spell was cast to prevent us from revealing it even if we wanted to. As protection.”

  Good ploy, I reflected. “You and I know that’s not really true. I want the name. You won’t leave here without giving it”

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “I—I really can’t I did get a spell. I was scared…”

  I smiled. “You can’t tell me, it’s true, but not because of a spell You can’t tell me. because you really don’t know. You don’t remember any of those meetings, do you?”

  “I—of course I do! That’s ridiculous!”

  “If you did remember, you’d know that the leader of the cult was disguised by a spell, as were most of the members. You couldn’t know Who that head was—and no spell would prevent you from telling me that. You’re lying, Zala Embuay. You were never a member of that cult.”

  “I—of course I was! See?” She pointed to the horns. “How else could I get these!”

  “That is the question we’re trying to answer here. You see, in the confusion there really wasn’t enough time or organization to check everybody against the membership rolls. They had to take anybody who suddenly sprouted a pair of horns. We’ve already caught a few spies.” That was a complete lie, a
lthough the thought had occurred to Koril and his staff and histories had been taken. The truth was, nobody could really be sure, so they were simply all under observation and in no case permitted to leave or even approach the cargo areas, Zala included, “They learned that death is the least punishment a spy can expect—here.”

  At that moment I reached out to her and touched her va, effortlessly weaving a mild demand spell. She gave a sharp cry and stood up. I had to give a slight paralyzing stroke to her legs to keep her from involuntarily bolting. I had to be dramatic while being careful not to juggle mass, since this was to be a strictly temporary spell—but that was all right. The wa took days, even weeks, to complete a physical change, whereas the perception of that change was immediate.

  She watched as her hands and arms shriveled, changed, became a mottled green and brown, then larger and heavier as they turned into perfectly repulsive suckered tentacles that, to her, weighed half a ton. “Nor she screamed.

  “Want a mirror to see the rest of you?” I taunted, feeling less than wonderful about all this but realizing its need. Korman said she would break only under extreme pressure, and this was certainly that.

  “No! No! Nor she wailed. “Kira!l Please help me! Kira! Kira!”

  I suddenly felt a little better. So she did know! I watched and waited to see what would happen next.

  Korman had told me that I would one day perceive the wa as he did—and I was well past that point The two forebrains of Zala Embuay showed clearly, not just as two brains but as two distinct and particularly weird ones. From the odd, distorted wa sense they looked about equal, each smaller than the norm for a human. If a person had the Power, you could see the information flow from wa to wa. Zala didn’t—but somebody did. Somebody, in fact, abruptly started doing the nearly impossible.

  The message flares, terribly strong, flowed from the brain to the body and back again, measuring, checking the spell which showed as a spider’s web of wa energy, then unraveling it in the same manner as I had unraveled Darva’s spell and my own. Whoever was doing it—and it had to be Zala herself—was a stronger sore than the spell, which was, of course, a simple one but still a level VI or VII. I began to wonder if this mind might be more powerful than my own, and reflected that I just might have to find out. One thing was clear—not only was the mind powerful, it was extremely well trained. When? And by whom?

  I made no effort to defend the spell and it broke easily, restoring Zala quickly to her former appearance. Very briefly I saw a vision of that stronger, Amazon like Zala of those last moments on the streets of Bourget. But the vision was fleeting and quickly gone. Kira, it appeared, was still not quite willing to meet me face to face.

  Zala sat down, looking weak and shaken. I did not intend to let her get off that easily.

  “Zala, who is Kira?” I asked her.

  She just shook her head and wouldn’t look at me directly.

  “She’s inside you, isn’t she?” I pressed. “Kira and you share the same body, don’t you? And that’s why you’re here, on Charon—because of Kira, isn’t that right? Zala, what is Kira?”

  She put her hands to her ears, trying to block out my voice, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “Kira, if you can hear me, understand me, you’d better put in an appearance,” I said sharply. “Your spells are good, but that was a minor one for me and I’m hardly the most powerful sore here. Any attempt to disable that laser by spell will be instantly detected and it will fire. Wa takes time to weave. I don’t think anybody can beat the speed of light. You’ll sit here until you come out, Kira. Sit here without food, without water, in a plain and empty room in a place in the desert from which there’s no escape.”

  Zala’s head turned and looked at the laser-camera combination, but she made no attempt at it. Finally she turned to me. “Damn you! Who the hell are you, anyway?’

  I smiled. “Why, Zala, honey, it’s your old loving husband, dear old Park, in his new suit of changeling clothes. Remember me?”

  That got her, more than the threats or anything. “Park?” she managed weakly. “Is that really—you?”

  I bowed slightly. “It’s me, all right. And if it’s any consolation, you were blown from the beginning. Korman actually assigned me to keep close to you and report. He thought you were a new kind of Confederacy assassin. Your rather unique mind shines like a beacon to all who can see the wa, I’m afraid.”

  She gasped. I could tell that this was genuine news to her—and to her counterpart too, I suspected. The fact is, self-control or not, we never accurately see ourselves in wa terms. Wa doesn’t reflect in mirrors.

  “What I’m telling you is all on the level,” I assured her. “Koril’s had a small team trying to figure out the unique part of your brain almost from the moment you arrived. There’s been some debate on the science and security staffs about you. They’ve let you run, so far, to see what would happen—and nothing did. So we’re making it happen. Now, don’t you think it’s time the truth comes out? If you’re working for Morah, you might as well admit it and go from there. If you’re working for anybody else, we want to know. And if you’re not working for anybody, we want to know just what the hell this is all about.”

  She shook her head, as if to clear it. “I—oh, hell. What’s the use of going on any further? I’m going to tell you—unless I’m stopped.”

  “By Kira.”

  She nodded. “By Kira.”

  “Zala, what is Kira?”

  “She—she’s my sister. What I told you—you really are Park?—at the start was mostly true. I was an experiment. We were. A whole different kind of brain, they said. Two of us. Two complete people in one body. It’s really funny saying that, ’cause I don’t really know what it’s like not to have it.”

  I shook my head in wonder. “But why? What was the purpose? What was the aim? Surely somebody didn’t take this kind of chance just to experiment? It wouldn’t be worth the risk.”

  She chuckled dryly. “The risk. What risk? You have too high an opinion of the Confederacy, Park. That’s your trouble. You see only what’s on top, out there for show, and you swallow it whole, just like most of the jerks. You think the Four Lords just sit here and run then* little worlds? Just because they’re trapped here? That’s a laugh. They run a lot you don’t see all over the Confederacy. They’re just the new examples of what’s been around for thousands of years—maybe forever. A business. A business that sells things that nobody else does. Things that people say they don’t want, but they really do: perversions, gambling outside the official casinos, special loans, even promotions. Fancy jewels, works of art, stuff like that is stolen or bought and a lot of it comes here, to the Diamond. They’re everywhere and into everything. Drugs for bored frontier folk and space-navy people who might be out for a year or more. Anything you want they can get—anywhere—at a price.”

  “I’m not as naive as you think,” I told her. “But go on. This syndicate, then, bred you?”

  She nodded. “Bred me—and others.”

  That was interesting. “Others? Many others?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? We were raised independently.”

  “Yeah—but why? For what purpose?”

  “The Confederacy has an elite force, bred to their jobs. They’re called assassins, although they don’t often kill. Did you know that?”

  “I know something about them, yes,” I admitted rather evasively.

  “Well, bow do you think the Four Lords got stuck here? Or most of the rest of the people, for that matter? They—the assassins—got them. The assassins are bred for the job, as I said, so they’re almost impossible to corrupt. They love their work, and do nothing else. Their true identities aren’t even known to the bureaus that employ them, and any time one is contacted, that contact is brief. After the job is done, all memory of them is wiped from even Security’s minds and general records. Their anonymity is the one thing the Four Lords have never broken. Those men and women are the only people the hig
h-ranking members of the Brethren, as the organization usually calls itself, are scared of. The only ones. Only one has ever been exposed and corrupted—and he’s one of the Four Lords!”

  “Marek Kreegan of Lilith,” I responded. “He’s dead, you know.”

  Her head shot up. “Dead! How?”

  “A Confederacy assassin got him, it seems.”

  “You see, then?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t see at all. What’s all this leading to?”

  “The Four Lords, the entire Brethren, need people who can identify and kill these assassins before they themselves are killed. They’ve tried every way in the universe to crack the system, and been frustrated every time. Even Kreegan couldn’t help them, for no assassin ever knows enough of the security system, which is changing anyway all the time, to break it So, the Brethren figured, if they couldn’t expose the system, they’d breed their own. Assassin killers, you might say.”

  I had to laugh. “You are an assassin killer?”

  She shook her head. “No, not me. Kira. She’s amazing, Park. Amazing. She learns almost anything from one lesson, and never forgets. She’s got total control of her—our—body. Total. She is an analytical killing machine, and brilliant” She was saying this admiringly, but as if she were talking about someone else entirely. It was eerie. And, of course, it raised more questions than it solved.

  If Zala were telling the truth, then Koril already knew what she was—he’d have to. And Korman probably would, too. Why didn’t they? Or if they did, why all the charade? Something definitely smelled funny now, and Zala was the first suspect. She hadn’t exactly proved reliable in the past.

  “Zala, why two of you?” I asked. “Why both you and Kira?”

  “Oh, that’s supposed to be a safeguard if we were caught They couldn’t psych Kira, only me. They couldn’t wipe her—only me.”

  “That only makes sense if you don’t know about her yourself,” I pointed out. “And of course you had to know.”