by Mike Resnick
Blue Peter was waiting for them.
"I'm glad you got here," he said. "Who knows what they're doing to him?"
"Whatever they're doing, he's probably so grogged up on bad booze and worse drugs that he's totally unaware of it," said the Bandit.
"Shouldn't we go get him?" asked Blue Peter as the Bandit walked into the hotel's restaurant.
"First we'll eat dinner," answered the Bandit. "We'll leave our gear here, get a good night's sleep, and go after him in the morning." He paused. "And tonight, before we're through eating, you'll tell us what you know about the Blixtor Maze."
"Nothing," said the alien. "Well, almost nothing."
"How could it spit you out?" asked Dante.
"That might be the wrong term," admitted Blue Peter. "I hid in this warehouse right across street from the jail where they were holding Virgil. I planned to wait until it was dark and then see if I could break him out." He paused. "When the sun set, I waited an hour and then I stepped out, ready to cross the street—and somehow I wasn't facing the jail. In fact, I wasn't even in the Maze. I was standing on the road that borders the north side of the Maze. I looked for the door I'd come through, but there was nothing but a solid wall for hundreds of yards." He smiled an odd alien smile. "The Maze didn't want me. That's when I knew I'd have to contact you if he was ever to get out of there."
"I can see the entrance to the Maze from the front of the hotel," said the Bandit. "Can you find him if we go through it?"
"Yes," said Blue Peter. Then, "No." Finally, "Maybe."
"Explain."
"It's never the same twice," said the blue alien. "If it's the way it was the last time Virgil and I entered it, and nothing inside the Maze has changed, I can find it—but the odds against that are thousands to one. I've been in the Maze a dozen times, and it's never been the same twice. I've talked to people who live in the Maze, who have been there for years, and they never know what they'll see when they walk out their front door."
"How do they keep finding their front door when it's time to go home?" asked Dante.
"Oh, if the Maze wants you to find something, you will," Blue Peter assured him. "It might even move things around just to accommodate you."
"You make it sound sentient."
"It's not sentient—I mean, how could it be?—but it's tricky as hell."
The Bandit stared at him for a moment, then walked to a table and called up the menu. The other two joined him, and they ate the meal in total silence.
"I'll see you in the morning," said the Bandit when he was through. He got to his feet. "Sunrise, right here."
He left and headed toward the airlift as Dante turned to Blue Peter.
"Just what the hell was Virgil doing that got him incarcerated?" asked the poet. "From what I know of this world, I'd have thought nothing was illegal. Certainly it couldn't just have been drugs."
"It wasn't."
"Well, then?"
The alien looked at him for a long moment. "I don't think I'm going to tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because you will want to work with him again, and if I told you, you might leave him here forever."
"It was that bad?"
"Let us say that it was that unusual."
"Were you involved?"
"I think I've told you everything that I'm going to tell you," said Blue Peter. "Goodnight, Rhymer. I'll see you in the morning."
"What's your room number?"
"This hotel is for humans only," said the alien with no sign of bitterness. "I am staying a few blocks away."
"See you in the morning, then," said Dante as Blue Peter left the restaurant and walked out the front door of the hotel. He spent a few minutes sitting at the table, staring at his empty wine glass and trying to imagine what new perversion Virgil had discovered. Finally he got up and went off to his room.
His bed woke him gently just before sunrise, as he had instructed it to do, and he showered and dressed quickly, then went down to the restaurant. He decided he couldn't stand the smell of food that early in the day, so he sat in the lobby and waited for the Bandit to finish. Blue Peter joined him a moment later, and the two of them sat, half asleep, until the Bandit emerged from the restaurant.
"Okay," he said. "Let's go get him."
The three of them went out into the cool dry air of Nandi III, turned right, and rode the slidewalk past a row of low angular buildings to the entrance to the Maze.
"This is it?" asked the Bandit.
"That's right," said Blue Peter.
"If everything moves around, how are we going to find him?" asked the Bandit.
"We'll hire a guide."
"A guide? You mean someone knows his way around the Maze?"
"It's not that simple," began Blue Peter.
"Somehow it never is," interjected Dante dryly.
"There is a alien race, almost extinct now, that can usually find what you're looking for. Not always, but usually. Rumor has it that they were imported to Nandi III centuries ago to help build it. These are their descendants. No one knows what world they originally came from."
"Can they find their way back out?" asked the Bandit.
"Frequently."
"How do we make contact with one?"
"We'll just enter the Maze," answered the alien. "They'll start contacting us."
"What do they look like?"
"They're humanoid," said Blue Peter. "Perhaps four feet tall. Covered with fur. Their colors differ markedly from one to the next."
"Has the race got a name?"
"Probably," said Blue Peter. "I mean, all races have names, don't they? Inside the Maze, though, we call them Lab Rats, since they're the only ones who can find their way around with any degree of accuracy."
"Lab Rats?" said Dante with a smile.
"Your face just lit up," said Blue Peter. "You're going to use them in your poem, aren't you?"
"How could I not write about a race known as the Lab Rats?" responded Dante.
The Bandit stared at the entrance, which was a broad archway.
"We just walk in, right?" he asked.
"That's right."
"Okay, let's get on with it."
He strode forward, and Dante and the alien fell into step behind him. Ten feet into the Maze he stopped and looked behind him.
"The entrance is still there," he noted.
"Yes, it is," agreed Blue Peter.
"Maybe you were exaggerating a little bit?"
"I wasn't," said the alien adamantly.
They followed the street for fifty yards, until it dead-ended against a large modular triangular building built of imported alien alloys.
"Let's try the left," said the Bandit, walking off in a new direction.
They followed him. The street narrowed until the buildings were so close together that he couldn't fit through the opening.
"So much for that," he muttered. "All right, let's go in the other direction."
He turned and backtracked, but when they came to the triangular building, everything seemed different.
"Something's wrong," he muttered, looking around.
"What is it?" asked Dante, who was bringing up the rear.
"That alley," said the Bandit, pointing. "It wasn't there before." On a hunch, he turned to his right, toward the entrance. It was gone. "Okay, so you weren't exaggerating."
Suddenly a creature the size of a child emerged from the shadows and approached them. It was covered by dull gray fur, and its face was long and angular, with wideset green eyes and a broad purple nose.
"Need a guide?" it hissed in a sibilant whisper. "Need a girly-girly house? Need a trip to Dreamland? Like to make a bet? I take you anywhere you want for 20-credits-20."
The Bandit tossed a coin to the Lab Rat. "Tell him," he ordered Blue Peter.
"I'm looking for a friend," began the alien.
"No blue girly-girly houses in the Maze."
Blue Peter shook his head. "This is a human friend. He's been locked up. His name is Vi
rgil Soaring Hawk. I want to find him."
"I must search," said the Lab Rat. "I tell you soon."
"Should we wait here?" asked the Bandit.
"Go wherever," said the Lab Rat. "When I am ready, I find you."
He shambled off and scuttled around a corner.
"No sense following him," said Blue Peter. "When you get to the corner and look for him, he won't be there."
"Then let's walk around and see what the Maze is like, as long as he says he can find us," said Dante.
The Bandit agreed, and the three of them set off. The farther into the Maze they got, the stranger it became. Streets ended inside buildings, or curved and twisted back onto themselves. Buildings were all shapes; some seemed to blink in and out of the men's dimension, though when they approached them they seemed solid enough. There were doorless, windowless buildings from which peals of human laughter emanated, and stores that sold objects that were totally unfamiliar to Dante. There were brothels showcasing males and females of a dozen different races, and gambling dens with long, winding, seemingly endless tunnels leading to individual games. They followed a corridor, found a room with aliens playing jabob, retraced their steps, and found themselves inside an alien shrine that featured an altar stone still wet with blood. They walked out the exit, and found themselves blocks from the gambling den, on a four-level avenue covered by a building that rose from the ground on both sides of the street, leaned toward the middle, and joined about ten feet above the top level, forming a huge triangular arch.
"This gets weirder and weirder," said Dante.
"This is the ordinary part," said Blue Peter. "It gets really weird about three blocks from here."
Another Lab Rat, this one light tan with large black spots on its fur, approached them. "Psst!" it hissed.
"Go away," said Blue Peter. "We've already got a guide."
"Psst!" it repeated. "Your guide has deserted you. I will never do that. I offer the unusual, the exotic, the bizarre. All for only 20 credits."
"Not interested," said the Bandit.
"For you, 15 credits," said the Lab Rat. It pulled its thin lips back in a distorted smile. "Eat at Joe's."
"If we want a restaurant, we'll find one without your help," said Blue Peter irritably.
"Not like Joe's," said the Lab Rat. "Your meal is lightly basted and still alive. You can listen to it scream as it slides down your gullet."
"Forget it."
"It is forgotten," said the Lab Rat. "Psst! Girly-girly house of cyborgs, only 12 credits."
Their own guide suddenly appeared. He stared at the other Lab Rat and growled deep in his throat. The new Lab Rat hissed at him. A moment later they were roaring and screeching, jumping up and down and making threatening gestures. Finally, as the noise reached a crescendo, they both stopped at the same instant, and the new Lab Rat raced away.
"Do not let my brother disturb you," said their guide. "I will kill him later."
"He's your brother?" asked Dante.
"Probably," was the answer.
"Did you find Virgil Soaring Hawk?" asked the Bandit.
"Ah, the unfortunate Virgil," said the Lab Rat. "Yes."
"Why 'unfortunate'?" asked Dante.
"He is guilty of sins for which they have not yet created any names," replied the Lab Rat. He turned to Blue Peter. "You helped."
"Take us there," said the Bandit.
"They will not release him."
"That is not your concern," said the Bandit, tossing him another coin. "Just take us there and then leave."
"If I leave, you will never find your way out."
"That is our concern," said the Bandit.
"You will die of old age here, all but the blue one," warned the Lab Rat.
"Why not me?" asked Blue Peter.
"The Maze finds your presence offensive. It will throw you out."
"How do you know?"
"The same way I know how to find Virgil Soaring Hawk," replied the Lab Rat, as if that answered everything.
"But—" began Blue Peter.
"Shut up," said the Bandit. He turned to their guide. "No more talk. Take us to Virgil."
The Lab Rat stared at him, gave a shrug that rippled down its entire body, and headed off down a dank, twisting alley. The Bandit and his companions fell into step behind the furry creature, following as it turned one way and then another, seeming to follow no rational course—but they noticed that while they were constantly backtracking, they never passed the same street or building twice.
Finally the Lab Rat ascended two levels, walked a block, climbed back down to the pavement, and waited for his party to assemble.
"Here we are," he said.
"Where are we?" said the Bandit.
"You wanted to find Virgil Soaring Hawk, didn't you?"
"Yes."
The Lab Rat pointed to an unmarked door. "Just walk through there."
"There are 50 identical doors on this block," said the Bandit. "How do you know it's this one?"
"Because."
"All right. Open it."
"I am done. You are not paying me to stay."
"I paid you to find Virgil Soaring Hawk. You're not done until I know he's inside."
The Lab Rat turned to him. "Have I ever lied to you?"
"You haven't said five sentences to me."
"There. You see?"
"Open the door."
"I weep at your distrust."
"You'll do more than weep if he's not in there."
The Lab Rat stared at him for a long moment. "This door," it said, walking to a door next to the one it had originally indicated.
"I thought it was the other door."
"I changed my mind."
The Bandit opened the door and turned to Dante. "Keep an eye on him until I make sure that Virgil's here." He entered the building.
"What's behind the first door?" asked Dante.
"Open it," said the Lab Rat.
"Just tell me."
The Lab Rat forced his lips into another smile. "That would spoil the surprise."
"I notice your Terran has become a lot more fluent since our first meeting," noted Dante.
"That's because it is noon in the Maze."
"It gets better or worse depending on the time of day?"
"And the weather."
Dante was about to reply when the door opened and the Bandit reappeared.
"Okay, let him go and follow me."
Dante turned to tell the Lab Rat to leave, but it was already gone. He walked forward and entered the building, followed by Blue Peter. They walked down a narrow arched corridor that curved to the left, and after a moment came to a lighted room. There was a strange multi-leveled desk with a small, olive-skinned man seated behind it.
"This gentleman," said the Bandit, indicating the man, "seems to be in charge of the place."
"I am in charge."
"It's not a jail and it's not a stockade, right?"
"That is correct."
"And yet you freely admit that you have incarcerated Virgil Soaring Hawk here."
"The Maze is used to aberrant behavior," said the man. "It is used to perversions that I hope you cannot begin to imagine. And yet your friend has performed acts that offend not only the inhabitants of the Maze but the Maze itself."
"And the Maze told you that, did it?" asked Dante.
"Not in so many words, but if you live here long enough, you know how to interpret its moods."
"I am sorry our friend has offended you," said the Bandit. "Tell me how much we owe you for damages, I'll pay his tab, and we'll be on our way."
"The same perversions, performed on another world, will be no less offensive," said the man.
"But since you won't know about them, they won't offend you," the Bandit pointed out.
"The Maze says he must stay. He will not be harmed, he will be well treated—but he will be confined alone for the rest of his life."
"He belongs to me," said the Bandit. "I'm taking him awa
y with me."
"Do you indulge in similar sins?" demanded the man.
"What I do is no one's business but my own."
"And I suppose you're going to tell me that what Virgil Soaring Hawk does is no one else's business?"
"That's right."
"That's wrong. Two men and a female Tellargian have been taken to a psychiatric ward after spending less than half the night with him."
"What the hell did he do to them?"
"We have no idea, but it is our duty to make sure that he never does it again."
"Enough talk," said the Bandit. "Name your price and I'll pay it. Just turn him over to me and we'll leave."
"That's out of the question."
"Nothing is out of the question for Santiago. Now, where is he?"
"He's quite safe, not only from his own urges, but also from delusional intruders who think they're Santiago."
"I'm only going to ask once more," said the Bandit. "Where is he?"
The olive-skinned man glared at him and offered no response.
The Bandit looked around the room, turned to the wall at the far end of it, and pointed his finger. A laser beam shot out, and soon cut a doorway through it.
"Rhymer," he said, purposely avoiding mentioning Dante's name, "go see if he's there."
Dante stepped through and found himself in what seemed to be a haberdasher's storehouse. He stepped back into the room.
"No, there's nothing there."
The Bandit turned back to the olive-skinned man. "I'm going to count to five," he said, "and if you haven't told me where I can find Virgil Soaring Hawk, I'm going to melt one of your fingers to putty. Then I'll count again. When we run out of fingers and toes, I'll melt more vital things. Look into my eyes and tell me if you think I'm bluffing."
The man stared into the Bandit's eyes and swallowed hard. "You're not bluffing."
"Then save yourself a world of pain and tell me what I want to know."
"I'll take you there," said the man with an air of defeat.
He got up and led them back down the corridor through which they had come, but instead of letting them out into the street, it dead-ended at a metal door.
"He's in there?" asked the Bandit.
"Yes."
"Open it."
The man uttered a code that was half-mathematical formula and half-song. The door vanished and Virgil, who had been lying on a floating pallet, got to his feet.