The Dark Lady

by Mike Resnick

  “What is mount-diving?” I asked.

  “A sport in which the participant dives from a mountaintop into a rushing river.”

  I shuddered at the thought of it.

  “Who is the other?” I asked.

  “Vladimir Kobrynski of Saltmarsh. He has been a prizefighter, a skydiver, a test animal, a— ”

  “A test animal?” I interrupted. “Please explain.”

  “He volunteered to receive injections of virulent diseases for which cures were being sought.”

  “Is that not contrary to our nonbenevolence criterion?”

  “I do not believe so,” responded the computer. “At the time he was serving a prison sentence for the crime of manslaughter, resulting from the altercation on Altair III. He volunteered for the injections in exchange for a reduction of his sentence. Shall I continue?”

  “Please do.”

  “He has also been a hunter and an explorer, and he is currently an artist.”

  “What is life-threatening about being an artist?” I asked, mystified.

  “He has created a new art form called plasma painting, a highly dangerous procedure whereby hard radiation is illuminated and manipulated into a glowing work of cosmic art which dissipates in less than a minute.”

  “He certainly seems to have courted her vigorously,” I mused.

  “He has actually entered life-threatening situations on seventeen fewer occasions than Gottfried Schenke,” said the computer.

  “But Schenke may simply be a devoted collector,” I said. “This man seems to have structured his entire life in pursuit of the Dark Lady.”

  “Have you any further questions?”

  “I cannot think of any,” I replied with an exhausted sigh. “I just wish I knew whether or not this entire evening was simply an exercise in futility.”

  “I cannot answer that.”

  “I know,” I said wearily. “I don't suppose any of the four men on our final list has painted a portrait of the Dark Lady within the past two weeks?”

  “No,” answered the computer. “In fact, only one of them has ever evinced any interest in her portrait.”

  “Explain!” I commanded sharply.

  “Two years ago, through one of his agents, Malcolm Abercrombie purchased a portrait of the subject whom you refer to as the Dark Lady. The auction was held on Beta Santori V.”

  “Continue,” I said expectantly.

  “The underbidder was Vladimir Kobrynski. I realize that this has nothing to do with the hypothetical problem that you posed this evening, but there is only a .0000037 percent probability that his name would occur in both contexts unless there were a connection.”

  “May I have a hard-copy printout of any data you possess about him that is available for public access?”

  “Printing... ”

  A sheet of paper emerged from the machine.

  “And have you a hologram of him in your memory banks?”

  “I have not yet erased it. Please observe the screen.”

  The holographic screen shimmered to life, and for the first time I saw the harsh, craggy face of Vladimir Kobrynski.

  18.

  The Dark Lady stood before me, her arms outstretched, beckoning me to follow her. I took a tentative step forward, then another.

  “Come, Leonardo,” she crooned. “Come see such things as you have only dreamed about. Come cross the barrier with me. Come learn the eternal mysteries of Life and Death.”

  I took another, less tentative step.

  “Come,” she whispered. “Come with me and learn the sublime secrets of the Other Side. Come!”

  I sat upright on my sleeping cot, my hands shaking, my hue fluctuating wildly. Finally, as I realized that it had just been a dream, I became calmer.

  Or had it been a dream? I rarely dreamed, and when I did, I could not remember the details upon awakening— and yet I recalled this dream with perfect clarity.

  The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it was not a dream but a vision, a manifestation of the Mother of All Things. It seemed presumptuous to think that she would visit me— let alone any Bjornn male— yet every detail of the experience remained fresh and clear in my mind.

  “Lights!” I ordered hoarsely.

  The room was instantly illuminated, and I began pacing back and forth, pondering the meaning of what had happened. I had gone directly to Venzia's hotel from the library to tell him what I had discovered. He had become extraordinarily agitated, and told me that he planned to depart for Saltmarsh, Kobrynski's home planet, within the hour. He offered to take me with him, but I felt that I could not leave Far London without Tai Chong's permission, and although I had asked him to postpone his journey until the morning, he had refused, his face glowing with a fanatical zeal.

  So I had come back to my room, distressed that my part in the Dark Lady's saga had come to an end, and had gone directly to bed. Since she was prominent in my thoughts all evening, it was logical to assume that I had simply dreamed about her, subconsciously working out my frustration at being left behind.

  That was the logical explanation— but was it the right one? Did the Dark Lady merely visit human males, or had she also appeared to me? And if she had appeared to me, was she indeed the Mother of All Things? Was it blasphemous even to consider the possibility, or was it sacrilegious not to follow her when she had beckoned me?

  I didn't know, and the more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I was still considering all the ramifications of the problem when day dawned and I left my room to go to the gallery.

  As I entered the small, sparsely furnished lobby of my hotel, Valentine Heath was waiting for me, totally oblivious to the curious glances from the residents and the hostile glares from the humans who looked in while walking past.

  “Good morning, Leonardo,” he said. “You look awful.”

  “I did not sleep well, Friend Valentine,” I replied.

  “I'm sorry to hear it.”

  “How did you know that I lived here?” I asked. “I never told you.”

  “It's not very difficult to trace an alien on Far London,” he replied with a smile. Suddenly the smile vanished. “You really should move out,” he continued. “The carpeting is threadbare, the wallpaper is peeling, and the hired help keeps staring at me in a surly manner.”

  “It is the best hotel available to non-humans,” I responded.

  “I don't believe it!”

  “Neither did I, until I visited some of the others,” I said. I turned slightly so that I would not see the desk clerk, a Canphorite who was staring fixedly at Heath and myself with an expression of distaste. “Now that you have found me, what do you want of me?”

  “The same thing I wanted yesterday,” said Heath. He paused uncomfortably. “I owe the Far London Towers seventeen thousand credits. They've demanded payment by tomorrow morning.”

  “We have only been on Far London for four days,” I said in amazement. “How did you manage to spend so much money?”

  “I told you: I have expensive tastes. The Presidential Suite costs twenty-five hundred credits a night exclusive of meals, and since I came here without any extra clothes, I ordered a new wardrobe from the hotel's tailor.”

  “That was unwise, Friend Valentine. You should have stayed at a less expensive hotel.”

  “What's the difference?” he responded with a smile. “Given my current circumstances, I can't afford any of them until my funds are unfrozen.”

  “But why the Presidential Suite?” I said. “Surely you do not need such spaciousness.”

  “I require my little luxuries,” he replied defensively. “Besides, that's neither here nor there. I absolutely must raise some money or they'll arrest me tomorrow morning.”

  “Perhaps you should leave the planet,” I suggested.

  “I can't afford fuel for my ship, or even pay the hangar fee on it.” He paused again. “I went to Venzia's hotel late last night to see if I could borrow some money, but he had checked out
an hour before I got there.”

  “I know.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He is on his way to Saltmarsh.”

  “Saltmarsh?” repeated Heath. “I've never heard of it.”

  “It is a small planet in the Albion Cluster.”

  “Why has he gone there?”

  “To meet the Dark Lady,” I replied.

  “How does he know she's there?”

  “I told him.”

  “All right: How did you know?”

  “I deduced it, with the help of the library's computer,” I answered.

  “Are you certain you're right?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Then why didn't you go with Venzia?” he asked.

  “I have other obligations.”

  “To Claiborne?”

  “I thought they were more important when I spoke to Friend Reuben last night,” I said. “Now I do not know.”

  “What's changed?”

  “You will laugh if I tell you,” I said.

  “Not even if I want to,” he replied reassuringly. “What happened, Leonardo?”

  “The Dark Lady may have come to me in a vision.”

  “May have?” he repeated with a frown.

  “It may have only been a dream,” I answered truthfully. “I do not know.” I paused for a moment, then continued. “But if it was a vision, then I must see her again.”

  “How important is this to you, Leonardo?” asked Heath.

  “If it was a vision, it may be the most important thing in my life,” I replied with a dejected sigh. “But I cannot afford passage to Saltmarsh, so I will never know.”

  “Don't be so sure of that,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked suspiciously.

  “If you tell me what I need to know about Abercrombie's security system, by tomorrow morning I'll not only have enough money to fuel my ship, but I'll have to leave Far London in rather a hurry.” He paused meaningfully. “I see no reason why I shouldn't go into hiding on Saltmarsh, and take you along with me.”

  “I will not be blackmailed,” I said adamantly.

  “This isn't blackmail,” he replied. “It's an even trade. If you don't give me what I need, I can't give you what you need. It's as simple as that.”

  “I cannot do what you ask, Friend Valentine.”

  “I wish you'd change your mind, Leonardo,” he said. “But even if you don't, I've got to go after his collection tonight. I simply can't wait any longer.” He paused. “If you change your mind, you can contact me at my hotel until midnight.”

  “I will not change my mind.”

  He extended his hand. “Then wish me luck.”

  I shook his hand, but made no comment, and after a moment he turned and went out the door. I watched him until he was lost in the rush-hour crowd, and then began walking to the Claiborne Galleries, the image of the Dark Lady still vivid in my mind.

  When I arrived I went directly to my desk and began to write a letter.

  Dear Tai Chong:

  I find myself in a painful moral dilemma. There is a possibility that the Dark Lady visited me in a vision, and if this is so, I must find her and determine exactly who she is and what it is that she wants of me— but in order to do so, I must help a friend commit a criminal act, and I myself must enjoy the fruits of that crime.

  Yet if I do not help him, I will not be able to visit the world where she will make her next appearance, and if she is indeed who I suspect she is, this may literally constitute an act of heresy.

  There is also a possibility that I am wrong, that she did not contact me at all, and that she indeed has no interest whatsoever in non-humans. But I cannot know this until I speak to her, and I cannot speak to her unless I help my friend. Therefore, if I am wrong, if indeed she did not visit me, then I will have helped my friend commit this criminal act for no higher purpose than financial gain, and I will share his guilt.

  I require moral and ethical guidance, and there is no one else to whom I can turn. Therefore, I entreat you to

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and sat upright, startled.

  “The boss wants to see you,” said Hector Rayburn.

  “Right now?” I asked.

  “That's what she says.”

  “Thank you, Friend Hector,” I said.

  I instructed my computer to store the letter in its memory, then got to my feet and walked to Tai Chong's office.

  “Come in, Leonardo,” she said with a pleasant smile.

  “Yes, Great Lady,” I said, entering the room. I noticed immediately that a new hologram had been added to those that showed her winning awards and posing with various artists: This one depicted her being led to the Kennicott jail by two burly policemen, a triumphant expression on her face.

  “Interesting, isn't it?” she said, following my gaze.

  “It is frightening, Great Lady,” I said truthfully. “The policemen look very powerful and very angry.”

  “They were,” she said happily. “I think I am prouder of that hologram than any of the others.”

  I did not know what to reply to a person who took such obvious delight at being arrested for breaking the law, so I made no reply.

  After a moment she cleared her throat and spoke again: “I was wondering if you've heard from Valentine Heath yet?”

  “I spoke to him this morning, Great Lady.”

  “And?”

  “He is still determined to rob Malcolm Abercrombie.”

  “Did you tell him that I wanted to see him?”

  My hue deepened in humiliation.

  “I forgot, Great Lady.”

  “Well, no matter,” she said. “But please remember to tell him the next time you see him.”

  “I will not see him again, Great Lady.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “Because he intends to rob Malcolm Abercrombie tonight, and he will almost certainly be apprehended.” I paused. “He is staying at the Far London Towers, Great Lady. Possibly you can dissuade him.”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “What makes you so sure that he will be caught? He's a very clever man.”

  “Because he has never been inside Malcolm Abercrombie's house, and he is unfamiliar with the security system. He has asked for my help, but I refused.”

  “I see.”

  I shifted my weight uneasily. “I have a request to make, Great Lady.”

  “What is it?”

  “Does Claiborne have a branch on Saltmarsh?”

  “That's in the Albion Cluster, isn't it?”

  “Yes, Great Lady.”

  “I believe we do have a small outlet there,” she said. “Why?”

  “I desire an immediate transfer to Saltmarsh.”

  She frowned. “Why? Are you unhappy here?”

  “No, Great Lady!” I exclaimed. “Quite the contrary: I love my work and I am happy with my surroundings. But I believe that the Dark Lady will soon be on Saltmarsh, and it is imperative that I speak to her.”

  “Why?”

  “There is a possibility— not a certainty, but a possibility— that she may have enormous religious significance for the race of Bjornn,” I replied. “I realize that it sounds ludicrous when I say it, but I must see her again to determine the truth.”

  “Why didn't you mention this to me yesterday?” she asked.

  “I only found out last night,” I replied. “I had hoped to take a leave of absence and go to Saltmarsh with Reuben Venzia, but he has already departed without me.” I paused. “You are my only hope.”

  She stared at me thoughtfully. “What about Heath?” she asked at last. “You are friends, are you not?”

  “He lacks the money even to fuel his ship,” I said. “That is why he is so intent on robbing Malcolm Abercrombie.”

  “Has he any interest in the Dark Lady?” she asked, drawing meaningless little patterns on a pad of paper as she spoke.

  “He is interested in her only as a piece of property that he can sell to Malcolm Aber
crombie,” I said.

  “How vulgar,” she replied. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then she suddenly stood up. “I wish I could help you, Leonardo,” she said sympathetically, “but the fact of the matter is that I simply cannot send you to our Saltmarsh branch.”

  “Is it because of the problems on Charlemagne?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied. “You have been completely exonerated of all wrongdoing.” She paused. “But your contract is with the Far London branch of the Claiborne Galleries. The Saltmarsh branch has no authority to employ you.”

  “Cannot an exception be made?” I asked. “This may be a matter of vital importance.”

  She shook her head. “I'm afraid not, Leonardo. If you had the means of getting there, I could conceivably grant you a brief leave of absence— but I must justify all my actions to my superiors, and I can't justify transferring you to Saltmarsh merely for your personal convenience.”

  “I understand, Great Lady,” I said unhappily, my hue reflecting my disappointment. “I am sorry to have bothered you.”

  “It was no bother, Leonardo,” she said soothingly. “I'm just sorry that I couldn't be of more help to you.”

  I left her office, returned to my desk, sat perfectly still, and analyzed my conversation with Tai Chong. There was a time when I would have accepted it verbatim, but my continued association with Men had taught me to question every statement and every motive— and as I questioned her statements and motives, I began to realize that, far from wishing to stop Valentine Heath from robbing Malcolm Abercrombie, Tai Chong actually wanted him to succeed. That was why she wished to speak to him: to tell him which paintings she could place without any embarrassing questions being asked. And that was why she had refused to transfer me to Saltmarsh: to eliminate any possibility of my meeting the Dark Lady again unless I helped Heath.

  Or could I be mistaken? I knew that Tai Chong was not unwilling to deal in art of questionable ownership, but could such an intelligent and compassionate woman truly be willing to stand by and allow one of her clients to be robbed? And even if that were true, would she actually try to manipulate events to guarantee the success of the robbery?