03. Gods at the Well of Souls (33 page)

She was so startled, she backed away. There were eyes of a sort on the ends of  those things! Or at least they sure looked like eyes, one per vine ending. And now the vines moved in a cluster. Quite slowly and lazily, yet as  deliberately as snakes, which they reminded Julian of. 

She walked a bit to the right, and the clump of eyes slowly followed her. Back  to the left, the same. She wasn't imagining it! 

Were they all part of a single organism, part of the tree, or parasites on it?  Some sort of plantlike worms, perhaps? She'd better find out, she decided,  because now that this bunch had blown their cover, as it were, all the vines on  all the other trees were looking at her, too. 

This may be the dumbest thing I've ever done in a lifetime of dumb things, she  thought furiously, but it's worth a try. 

"Hello." she said. "We are strangers here, brought here by others. Bad people we  are now trying to escape from. We don't want to harm anything, but we do not  know the rules here. Are you the Lebans?" 

Did translators work even on plants? Or was she talking to a common variety of  parasitic worm with no more intelligence than any other worm? 

The vines got very agitated and seemed to speed up their motion, curling in and  out, back and forth among one another until it looked like they were caught in  some sort of windstorm. The other clusters on other trees were doing much the  same. 

It's almost like they're talking with each other, discussing me, she thought,  still not sure if she wasn't just imagining this. She looked nervously upward  into the trees for perhaps a giant open mouth at the end of the tendrils, but  while they did vanish into the upper reaches of the tree, there was no clear  body to them. 

But how were they talking, if that was what it was? While the translator might  be able to get through to them if, presumably, whatever they were attached to  had some way to hear or feel vibrations, what if they communicated by a totally  different means? That was still assuming that she was talking to Lebans. Now is  the kind of time when I wish I could confer with the others, she thought. There was suddenly the sound of a wind, although she could feel no air moving  against her skin. 

Then there came a deep, melodic bass tone that seemed to come from within the  tree itself. Incredibly, it seemed to be forming words, although they were a  bizarre-sounding monotone, like trying to listen to conversation from the  world's largest one-note tuba. 

"You may pass in safety," the voice seemed to say. "Do not touch the vines. Do  not harm the trees. Eat what you will of the forest floor but pick nothing." She wasn't crazy! These were the Lebans! "We will obey all of your rules. I  promise," she told the clusters of eyes. "We go north by night to the equator  beyond your lands." 

"We have heard what the others have done," the monotonous horn responded. "They  will not find you in Leba if you give Leba respect." 

"It is a very pretty place," she said, trying to butter them up a bit, still  wondering if they were the vines, the trees, or something inside the trees and  out of sight. "But it is not our place. We would not harm it, and we need to  leave it. Um . . . You wouldn't happen to know which way is north?" The vines swirled, curled, and then pointed off in one direction. "Thank you,"  she told them. "I must get some sleep now. We have a long way to go." "You will not be disturbed," the voice promised. 

The vines slowly subsided in their rhythm, then hung limp and still once more. It was very odd, but she felt like she could sleep here now. She wasn't exactly  sure why and she probably could never explain it to the others, even if they'd  believe it, but she felt suddenly more secure, no longer watched but rather  watched over. 

If you are polite to the Lebans and show respect, they are very friendly . . . Somehow she'd just have to make do with the ropes. 

She wondered what would happen to somebody who wasn't polite and respectful. The  ones who would be after them might be such people. One could certainly outrun a  Leban, but one couldn't run out of them. She wondered just how strong those  tendril-like vines could be ... 

Somehow Anne Marie was not surprised to see three Cloptan men and the colonel  ride out and three Cloptan women and the colonel ride back in. "Ever the Talleyrand type, aren't you, Colonel?" she said with acidic sweetness. "What's she talking about?" Juana Campos asked him suspiciously. 'Talleyrand," the colonel explained, "was a pragmatist in royalist France. A  minor functionary, he saw the French Revolution coming and, when it happened,  helped the revolutionaries find royalists and arrest them. He survived the reign  of terror, survived the excesses, and in the end supported a young officer named  Napoleon who became emperor himself and made Talleyrand a count. When Napoleon  faced defeat, he negotiated with the old royalists and brought them back to  power. He died a wealthy and respected statesman, in bed, of old age, but he  never betrayed those he served or lost his honor, which is why they all trusted  him. I do not consider her comment an insult but rather a compliment." The two gunmen were more shocked and not as understanding. That had to be put  right immediately. 

"Listen, you two, you are very fortunate to have been here!" Juana Campos told  them. "You are still alive and you have futures, if you wish to take the  colonel's example. Taluud is dead. His empire in Clopta is even now being  crushed. You have a choice to make. Serve me in the same way you served Taluud  and you will prosper and be high in the new organization I will build when this  is over. Choose wrongly and I will allow you to enjoy the colonel's embrace. I  do not need you for controlling this lot, but I can certainly use you." The two men didn't like it; their own world was being turned upside down in the  same way their captives' had been. Still, the alternative was certainly worse.  "All right, ma'am. We'll stay with you," one said. 

She nodded. "You will take orders from me and from Kuzi here as if she were  speaking my own words. You will keep your manners intact as regards all three of  us and will keep your hands off. Be faithful, and your rewards will be great.  Hesitate, foul up, or betray us, and you will be dead. Remember that if you are  testing any of us with your manly strength, you are also testing that strength  against all of us, including the colonel. You understand that? Do you understand  that?" 

"Yes, ma'am," they both said. 

"You call them 'ma'am.' You call me 'boss.' " 

"Yes, boss." 

Campos looked around and saw Terry. For her part, the girl was totally confused  as to what had gone on, but she understood that Gus had been hurt and that those  who had hurt him were now in control. Of them all, though, it was Campos who  terrified her. There was something there, inside her, something awful,  particularly when she looked at Terry. It was not something that could be  explained but rather something that was intrinsic, something ancient, something  rarely glimpsed. The colonel had elements of it, and so had the duckmen, but in  Campos it was not hidden, it was not partial, it was the essence of her, and it  was frightening. 

It was pure, uncompromised, unequivocated evil. 

And yet somehow, while she felt Campos's particular evil whenever she looked at  her, she also sensed that at least for now. that evil was not a direct threat.  Not yet. For some reason Campos did not want to harm the baby. Campos felt such satisfaction at finally having Terry in her clutches that it  was a moment before she realized that something was wrong. The two Dillians, the  girl, the big monster in the shed . . . 

"Where is the other? The Erdomite?" 

"These were the only ones here. We checked the whole place out thoroughly," one  of the gunmen said. 

Campos turned to Tony and Anne Marie. "All right- where is she? And no games!" "We don't know, and that's the truth," Tony told her. "She left us yesterday  evening to go to scout for where you might be. She thought you'd head for the  tracks and perhaps lay an ambush. We haven't seen or heard from her since. When  she didn't come back with you, we thought perhaps she was a casualty." Campos shook her head. "So that was how it was done. While we fought with  Taluud, your friend came in and liberated the others." 

"Likely," the colonel agreed. "We had no knowledge of it. I wouldn't think she'd  be much of a threat otherwise, though. Their women don't have the proper hands  and are not otherwise built for fighting. You are certain that the other two  cannot understand each other or anyone but you?" 

"I am certain of that, yes. They cannot talk, which means they cannot plot with  each other. I see your point. But they are going to be very difficult to track  and to catch in this terrain." 

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. They will feel us at their backs no matter where they run  and whether we are there or not. They will zig, and zag, and perhaps get lost a  few times, but eventually they will get their bearings. In the end, we know the  direction in which they must go. They must go to Verion, then west, to the  northwest corner of that place. They have no other choice." 

Campos looked at the Leeming and frowned. "You believe it, then? That if she can  get inside, she can become like a god?" 

"Until I got to know Captain Brazil, I thought it was nonsense," Lunderman  admitted. "And then, after, when I saw him survive what would have, should have  killed anything alive, I was nearly convinced. But it was when talking with Tony  here, back before the raid, that I became certain that this is not nonsense." "Why?" 

"You were dragged here. So was Gus. Lori and even the girl here were more or  less brought here by Mavra Chang. I and our missing Erdomese fell through by  accident. But there is no getting around it. Nathan Brazil walked here,  knowingly, of his own free will. He invited these two to come along. He promised  them what they achieved. And Mavra Chang, too, took great risks to voluntarily  come through. Of all of us, only Brazil and Chang came freely, knowingly. Why?  Because they knew what they would find here. And of all of us, only they and the  girl here, whose pregnancy prevented a change, remained Earth-human. All the  rest of us were dramatically transformed. No, it is beyond chance. And where  does that pair try and head once they set out separately, independently? To the  equator. To the door inside the world. No, it more defies logic to deny their  true nature than to believe in it, however fanciful. They are not human. They  have merely chosen to appear that way. Brazil may heal, but he is out of this.  Safely away. That leaves Mavra Chang, and I do not believe mat she will let any  obstacle stand in her way." 

"She could just wait. Bide her time and wait for Brazil to save her. After all,  she cannot know he is a prisoner." 

"No, I believe we took care of that possibility. They are rivals. Each is  convinced that the other means to assume total and sole control. As far as Chang  is concerned, this race is still on. She cannot afford to wait." "She'll know that we know this, too. Is Verion the only door?" "No, there are many, but she will be forced to go for Verion because it is  closest. Any other choice means more travel, more hexes, more chances of  discovery, and, most of all, much more time." 

"Will it be guarded?" 

"There is a token force there. There is one at all of them. Nothing that cannot  be handled, though. I have authority with some of the council even now, and  those two have authority with others. A nontech hex, a boring and routine guard  assignment-it should not be much of a problem." 

"What makes you think we'll help you?" Tony asked him. 

"Several things. First, it is your only hope of returning to Dillia alive.  Second, there is still one of your number that you might well be able to help,  and that is all you were ever promised. And third and finally, your friends here  will need you. We can transport our party and supplies, but Gus either travels  with you or he must be disposed of here and now. I would like to keep him around  because it will keep the girl in line and certain to stick close to us as well.  By the same token, concern for her safety will keep him in line, even if he  fully recovers. But you must understand that you are the most expendable of us  all." 

Campos looked at the centaurs. "Think about this, Dillians. It would take very  little to spoil those pretty looks for good. You will do nothing except what you  are ordered to do. You will take no hostile action against us. You will say  nothing to others except what we tell you to say or both of your tongues will be  cut out. Do anything, anything that displeases me and I will blind you. You are  packhorses to me, nothing more. Raise a hand or a weapon against me and you will  lose both weapon and hand. Try and escape and I will kill you. If you make it,  the ones who remain will suffer your punishment. The girl, for example, does not  need eyes or ears or hands to do what I am interested in. She will not leave her  strange paramour, and she will be kept close to me and the colonel at all times.  Do we have an understanding here?" 

"I believe we do, yes," Tony said gravely. But if I could kill you, even at the  cost of my own life, I think I would do it. 

"Well, get the big lizard ready to move, then," Campos instructed. "Even as he  is, I want him tied down to the litter at all times, and one of you must always  be watching him. With these horses and supplies, where they can go, we can go;  where we cannot, I doubt if they could, either. We will track them if we can. If  we lose them, we go for Verion immediately. Now, move!" 

Verion  

Julian had no way to mark time in Leba, but it had seemed an interminable  journey, made all the more so by her inability to really talk with anybody. Sure, she did some questions and answers with Lori, who seemed to need some  mental contact anyway, and some more bits-and-pieces discussions with Mavra by  the stick method, but those were almost always to ask specific things or just to  keep from going nuts. The Lebans remained friendly and true to their word, but  they weren't exactly conversationalists, either.