Roadmarks

by Roger Zelazny

  "No. You're right. We've got to go back."

  "I wouldn't advise it."

  "This time I override. Take the next tumoff. Get back on the other side. Then swing around again. I have to know."

  "Why?"

  "Just do it."

  "You're the boss."

  The light began to pulse as the truck slowed, then it drew to the right and onto a ramp. Frowning, Red traced designs in the air and then on a pad.

  "Yes," he finally said as they headed back.

  "Yes, what?"

  "Life is getting interesting. Go faster."

  "Are you sure you want to find him again?"

  "He won't be there."

  "You're guessing."

  They headed down a ramp, through an underpass, and up again.

  "Just a few minutes more. There! Up ahead. The police car is still there. Are you certain we should stop?"

  "Do it!"

  They pulled off the Road, came to a halt behind the teardrop-shaped vehicle. Red climbed out, walked forward. As he advanced, he could smell burnt upholstery and burnt flesh. The right-hand door of the car was open and slightly twisted. The interior had been thoroughly burned out. The charred body of one man

  lay sprawled across the front seat, badge blackened, gun in hand. The other officer's remains lay on the ground near the front of the car. The tires had been melted, the rear of the vehicle torn open. Red paced the length of the car several times.

  Frazier's suitcase lay sprung on a mound of snowy leaves to his right, its contents strewn on the ground. Red's brow furrowed and he shook his head as he regarded the dildoes, contraceptives, and bondage and discipline devices it had contained. They began to smoke and steam, flow and melt, as he looked at them. He looked about for footprints, but nothing was clear.

  Returning to his pickup, he announced, "All right C Eleven. I'll take over at Twelve, though."

  "I could monitor from here. Some sort of bomb, I'd say. Any sign of where he went?"

  'No."

  'You're lucky."

  'Not quite."

  'What do you mean?"

  'Well, we let it get away."

  'I'd call that lucky."

  Red yanked his cap down over his eyes and folded his arms. His breathing deepened.

  Two

  Timyin Tin worked in the monastery garden, apologizing to the weeds as he removed them. A small man, whose shaven head made his age even more difficult to determine, he hoed with great enthusiasm, his movements sharp and supple. His gown hung loosely about him, occasionally disturbed by the cool wind from the snow-capped mountains. He seldom looked at the mountains. He knew them too well. He was instantly alert to the approach of a fellow monk, however, though he gave no sign of this awareness until the other came to a halt at the head of the row he was working.

  "You are wanted within," said the other.

  Timyin Tin nodded.

  "Good-bye, my friends," he said to the plants, and he went to clean his tools and place them in the shed.

  "The garden grows well," the other said.

  "Yes."

  "I believe this summons involves the visitors."

  "Oh? I heard the gong earlier, announcing the arrival of travelers, but I did not see who had come."

  "Their names are Sundoc and Toba. Do you know them?"

  "No."

  The two men passed toward the main building, paus ing briefly before a statue of the Buddha. They entered and moved along a hall to a cell near its end. The second man entered there with proper observances and

  addressed the small, shriveled man who was the head of the monastery.

  "He is here, worthy one." "Then bid him enter."

  He returned to the doorway, barely glancing at the

  two strangers who sat on mats across from the master, drinking tea.

  "You may come in,'' he said, withdrawing himself as Timyin Tin entered the cell.

  "You sent for me, honored sir," he said.

  The master regarded him for several moments before speaking.

  "These gentlemen wish you to accompany them on a journey," he finally said.

  "Myself, esteemed one? There are many who know the area far better."

  "Of this I am aware, but it seems they want more

  than a guide. I will leave it to them to make matters clear to you."

  With this, the master rose to his feet, carrying with

  him a saddlebag that clinked and rattled, and departed the cell.

  Both strangers stood as Timyin Tin regarded them. "My name is Toba," said the dark-skinned one with the beard. He was heavily built and stood perhaps a head taller than Timyin Tin. "My companion is called Sundoc." He indicated the very tall, copper-haired man, whose skin was pale, whose eyes were blue. "His fourteenth-century Chinese of this district is not as

  good as my own, so I will speak for both of us. Who are you, Timyin Tin?"

  "I do not understand," the monk replied. "I am he whom you see before you."

  Toba laughed. A moment later, Sundoc laughed also.

  "Forgive us," Toba said then. "But what were you before you came to this place? Where did you live? What did you do?"

  The monk spread his hands.

  ''I do not remember."

  "You work in the gardens here. Do you like that?"

  "Yes. Very much."

  Toba shook his head.

  "How are the mighty fallen," he said. "Do you think-"

  The larger man had taken a step nearer the monk. His fist suddenly shot forward.

  Timyin Tin appeared to shift only slightly, but Sundoc's fist passed him without making contact. The fingers of the monk's left hand seemed but to graze the passing elbow to guide it. His body turned somewhat His other hand disappeared behind the larger man.

  Sundoc was swept across the room to crash into the wall, head-downward. He fell to the floor and lay still.

  "Ex—" Toba began. Then he, too, lay on the floor, senseless.

  When the light returned to his eyes, Toba looked about the cell. The monk stood near the door, regarding him.

  "Why did he attack me?" Timyin Tin asked. "It was but a test," Toba gasped. "It is now ended

  and you have passed it. Do they practice such unarmed

  combat here?"

  "Some," the monk said. "But I knew much from— before."

  "Tell me about before. Where was it? When?"

  Timyin Tin shook his head.

  "I do not know."

  "Another life, perhaps?"

  "Perhaps."

  'You believe in such things here—having lived other lives, do you not?"

  "Yes."

  Toba got to his feet. Across the chamber, Sundoc sighed and stirred.

  "We wish you no harm," Toba said. "Quite the contrary. You must accompany us on a journey. It is very important. The head of your order has agreed to this."

  "Where are we to go?"

  "The place names would be meaningless to you at this time."

  "What is it that you want me to do in the place where we are to go?"

  "You would not understand that either, in your present condition. A different you—an earlier incarnation —would have. Have you never wondered about the man you once might have been?"

  "I have wondered."

  "We will restore these memories to you."

  "How were they taken away?"

  "By sophisticated chemical and neurological techniques you would not understand. You see, even to mention them, I have had to use words which are not in your present vocabulary."

  "You know what I was—before?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell me what I was like."

  "It is better for you to discover it for yourself. We will assist you."

  "How will you do this?"

  "We will give you a series of injections of— You would not know what RNA is, but we will treat you with your own RNA, from samples taken before you were changed."

  "This substance will return knowledge of my earlier
life to me?"

  "We think so. Sundoc is a highly skilled physician. He will administer it"

  "I do not know..."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I am not certain that I wish to become acquainted with the man I once was. What if I do not like him?"

  Sundoc, who had risen to his feet and stood rubbing his head, smiled.

  Toba said, "I can tell you this: You did not undergo the first change willingly."

  "Why would someone force me to become another

  man?" "There is only one way for you to learn this. What

  do you say?"

  Timyin Tin crossed the cell to the urn and poured himself a cup of tea. He seated himself upon a mat and stared into the cup. He took a sip. After a time, Sundoc and Toba also settled to the floor.

  "Yes, it is frightening," Toba said finally, groping for words and shaping them slowly. "It is the— uncertainty. You seem to have adjusted well to life here. Now we come along and offer to change it all, without really telling you what the alternative will be. This is not perversity on our part. In your present state of mind, you simply would not understand what we have to say. We are asking you to accept a strange gift—your own past—because we wish to talk with the man you used to be. It may be that, when you have remembered, you will not choose to deal with us. Then, of course, you would be free to go your own way, to return here if you wish. But the gift we will have given you is not a thing we can recall."

  "Self-knowledge is a thing I desire," Timyin Tin stated, "and the recollection of past lives is an important step along that road. For this reason, I should say yes immediately. But I have meditated upon just this in the past. Supposing I were to achieve recall of a previous existence—not just a few memories, but all of it? Supposing I not only did not like that individual, but discovered that he was stronger than I—and instead of assimilating him into my existence, he were to assimilate me? What then? Would it not be a turning

  backward of the Great Wheel? By accepting knowledge from a source I do not understand, may I not be laying myself open to such possession by an earlier self?"

  Neither man answered him, and he took another sip of tea.

  "But why should I ask you?" he said then. "No man can answer such a question for another."

  "Yet," said Toba, "it is a fair question. Of course, I cannot answer it for you. I can only suggest that, in terms of your beliefs, one of your future selves may one day be wondering that same thing about you. What would your feelings be about that?"

  Abruptly, Timyin Tin laughed.

  "Very good," he said. "The self always wants to be at the center of things, does it not?"

  "You've got me."

  Timyin Tin finished his tea, and when he looked up, there was a new expression on his face. It was difficult to understand how that slight squint with the small rising of the cheeks above a half-smile could convey the sense of recklessness, boldness and defiance that it did.

  "I am ready for this enlightenment," he announced. "Let it begin."

  "It will probably take many days," Toba said cautiously. "There must be a number of treatments."

  "Then there must be a first one," Timyin Tin said. "What am I to do?"

  Sundoc glanced at Toba. Toba nodded.

  "All right, we will begin the treatments now," Sundoc stated. He rose and moved to the corner of the cell where his gear was stacked. "How soon can you be ready to travel?" he asked.

  "My possessions are few," the monk replied. "As soon as this business is concluded, I will fetch my things and we can depart."

  "Good," said the tall man, opening a small case containing a syringe and a number of ampules. "Good."

  * * *

  That night they camped in the mountains high above the monastery. They had sought a rocky declivity which broke the howling winds. Fine grains of snow swirled about their small campfire—like souls rushing to be melted, vaporized, returned to the heavens—recast, thought Timyin Tin—and he regarded them for a long while after the others had retired.

  In the morning, he said to Toba, "I had a strange

  dream."

  "What was it?"

  "I dreamed there were some men in a vehicle of a sort with which I am not familiar. I was in a building, watching as it came to a halt. When the men emerged from it, I pointed a weapon at them—a tube with a handle and a small lever. I directed it toward them and drew back on the lever. They were destroyed. Could this dream be a part of my other life?"

  "I do not know for certain," Toba said, gathering and packing his gear. "It could be. At this time, it is better not to regard any such things too critically. It is best simply to let them fall into place by themselves." Timyin Tin received an injection before they decamped and another that evening, following many leagues' travel along mountain trails.

  "I feel that something is happening," he said. "There were peculiar—intrusions—into my thoughts today."

  "What sort of intrusions?"

  "Images, words..."

  Sundoc drew nearer.

  "What images?" he asked.

  Timyin Tin shook his head.

  "Too brief, too fleeting. I can no longer recall them."

  "And the words?..."

  "They were foreign, though they seemed familiar. I no longer recall any of them, either."

  "You may take it as a good sign," Sundoc said. "The treatments are beginning to work. You may have more

  strange dreams tonight. Do not let them trouble you. It is best simply to observe and to learn."

  That night Timyin Tin did not sit up meditating.

  On the second morning, there was something different in his manner. When questioned by Toba concerning dreams, he simply replied, "Fragments."

  "Fragments? What were they like?"

  "I cannot remember. Nothing important. Let's have the morning's shot, huh?"

  "Do you realize that the last thing you said was not spoken in Chinese?"

  Timyin Tin's eyes widened. He looked away. He looked down at his feet. He looked back at Toba.

  "No," he said. "It just came out that way."

  His eyes filled with tears.

  "What is happening to me? Who will win?"

  "You will be the ultimate winner, by regaining what you had lost."

  "But perhaps—" Then his expression changed. His eyes narrowed, the lines of his cheeks softened, a faint smile curved the corner of his lips. "Of course," he said, "and I thank you for it.

  "How far must we journey?" he asked then.

  "It is difficult to explain," Toba said, "but we should be out of these mountains in three days. Then perhaps a week's travel will take us to a major trail we must follow. It will be much easier after that, but the exact destination will depend on word we receive at a rest stop along the way. Let us give you your treatment now and begin."

  "Very well."

  That evening and the following day, Timyin Tin did not speak of whatever recollections might have come to him. When asked, he was vague. Sundoc and Toba did not press the matter. The treatments continued. The next afternoon, however, as they were making their way down through a pass toward the foothills, Timyin Tin pulled upon their sleeves to gain their attention.

  "We are being followed," he whispered. "Continue on as if all is well. I will join you later."

  "Wait!" said Toba. "I do not want you to take any risks. You see, we have weapons of a sort you do not understand. We—"

  He stopped, for the smaller man was smiling.

  "Really?" Timyin Tin said. "Are you quite certain about that? No, I fear that your firearms would not help you against a storm of arrows from above. As I said, I will join you shortly."

  He turned and vanished among the rocks to their

  right.

  "What shall we do?" Toba asked.

  "What he told us: continue on," Sundoc replied. "The man is no fool."

  "But he is not in a normal state of mind."

  "It is obvious that he remembers more than he has said. We mus
t trust him now. Actually, we haven't much of a choice."

  They continued on.

  Almost an hour passed. The wind fled about them and the echoes of their mounts' hoofs sounded against the rocky walls. Twice, Sundoc had dissuaded Toba from returning to search for their charge. Now his face, too, was tight, and his eyes shifted often toward the heights. Both men were more than normally hunched as they rode.

  "If we've lost him," Toba said, "we are in deep trouble."

  The larger man's voice did not carry conviction as he replied, "We haven't lost him."

  They rode a little farther and a dark object fell to the trail some distance before them. It bounced, then rolled, giving, for a moment, the appearance of a rock. Then they noticed the hair. Shortly thereafter, the torso struck the ground. Two entire bodies followed moments later.

  They drew rein just as a shout echoed about them.

  Seeking its source, they saw Timyin Tin atop a crag high above them to the right. He waved a saber, placed it upon the ground, then commenced climbing down the rocky wall.

  "I told you we hadn't lost him," Sundoc said.

  When the smaller man had completed his descent and approached them, Toba shifted and frowned.

  "You took unnecessary risks," he said. "You do not know what weapons we have with us. We could have helped you. Three against one are not good odds."

  Timyin Tin smiled faintly.

  "There were seven," he replied. "Only three were so positioned that they were borne over the edge. But I took no unnecessary chances, and your weapons would only have gotten in the way."

  Sundoc whistled softly. Toba shook his head.

  "We were worried. Whatever your prowess, your mind is not yet normal."

  "In this it is," the other replied. "Shall we continue our journey?"

  They rode for a long while without speaking, then Sundoc asked, "How do you feel now?"

  Timyin Tin nodded.

  "All right."

  "Yet you have been frowning, as if something troubles you. Has this to do with this afternoon's— conflict?"

  "Yes, I am somewhat troubled by what occurred."

  "It is understandable. That part of you which is a monk—"

  The smaller man shook his head violently.

  "No! That is not it! We may kill in self-defense, and this was surely that. My concern runs deeper than the act and its justifications, karmic or otherwise."