The girl was another thing. She was absolutely uncanny at spotting any potential threats or irritants, and they’d been together long enough that he could read her reactions when somebody was around who was taking an inordinate interest in them. Several times she’d had brief flashes of this wariness when he’d sensed the tail, yet after a moment, she would frown as if puzzled, then seemingly dismiss it. She could sense the colonel coming three blocks away, but she barely reacted, and then only for this brief check, when he felt a shadow so close that he could almost smell its bad breath.
He had tried without success to convince himself that it was nerves. Certainly he was antsy and frustrated as hell at being stuck in this desolate place for so long, and his money was virtually gone while his prospects for earning any more were negligible unless he moved quickly. In this one sense he envied the girl; she appeared to need absolutely nothing except his companionship.
Still, he knew that someone was around, lurking, always near. At this stage in his life such feelings and instincts were almost never wrong. But what could it want?
He was as certain of the shadow’s reality as he was that there was only one, and the same one, too. Like at the pier whenever he’d temporarily shaken the tail, he’d heard it, and it wasn’t a tiny creature like the pixieish Lata, who could fly and hide in any number of small places, or any of the other obvious possibilities. The thing was big, bigger than he was, and certainly heavier by far.
In his hotel, away from close prying eyes, he’d gone through his reference books on the Well World. The standardized written trading language had definitely changed a lot, but the basics were still there and there wasn’t a language with a fundamental multicultural linguistic base that he hadn’t been able to master in the amount of time he’d wasted here. Not that his reading ability was perfect, but at least he was at the point where it was mostly nouns that stymied him, and those one could look up in a dictionary.
Fifteen hundred sixty separate species of sentient beings… That was a lot, but one could eliminate a couple of hundred off the bat: those who were not mobile, unable to function in the south, or too insular to leave their hexes, etc. That still left more than half, though.
Which could it be? And why?
The books, which were of course simplified and intended for businesspeople, diplomats, even tourists, were of little help in his attempts to solve the mystery, but they did give him a different sort of shock.
How they had changed! How much almost all of them had changed. Some socially and culturally—although few as radically as the Glathrielians—and physically as well. Up until now, the only familiar species he’d encountered were the Ambreza, who, while becoming even more xenophobic as the reasons for it had faded into half-remembered legend, weren’t all that much different from what they had been the last time.
Dillians, though… He’d always loved the centaurs. The last time they’d been basically the stuff of ancient Greek legend, large and gruff and looking very much like ordinary Earth-human types welded to sturdy working-horse bodies.
If the two photos in the book could be believed, though, they looked quite a bit different now. Sleeker, smaller, almost streamlined. Of course, Dillia wasn’t about to pose anything but its best-looking for an international publication, but the changes were too radical in the male and female shown to just be a matter of centaur public relations. They just, well, no longer looked like the hybrids they’d always seemed, but perfectly and logically designed as a whole. If those two were typical, he almost felt as if he were half a Dillian rather than a Dillian being half man, half horse.
And if they’d been the only ones, he still might have passed it off as a slick photograph, but they weren’t. Quite a number of old familiar races looked at least as different. None were unrecognizable; none had undergone that radical a transformation. But the Uliks looked more streamlined, a bit less of the serpent, and the lower pair of arms seemed to be quite different, almost as if they were changing into clawlike feet. The Yaxa body had become fuller, a bit more humanoid, the head and chest enlarged as well… It went on and on. Nothing so glaring as to shout at a person, but noticeable in picture after picture.
Something was definitely going on here, something totally unexpected.
There was no shot of a Gedemondan, of course. He hadn’t expected one, and for one to have been there would have been as radical a change in their culture as had happened in Glathriel. The book indicated that one could now climb their mountains if it were just for sport or passage and that Dillians had an actual trail network through there all the way to Palim and the Sea of Storms and through Alestol to the Sea of Turigen, giving them access to much of the Well World in spite of their less than hospitable neighbors. But, the book also warned, do not expect to see a Gedemondan at any point, and those who damaged their land or strayed off the prescribed trails or took anything with them had a tendency to suffer mental torments of one sort or another or, in cases of gross transgression, to simply disappear.
Well, it was nice to know that at least the Gedemondans hadn’t changed much.
He wondered idly if the shadow might be a Gedemondan. It was certainly large and heavy enough. The Gedemondans could also play tricks with one’s mind and had other strange powers and abilities, but overall, he doubted it. Their religion, their culture, the focus of their entire race required isolation. Sending one out into the world would be as radical a change for them as, well, the Glathrielians.
Maybe it was a Gedemondan, after all. It fit, and he hadn’t really found much evidence of more mobile cultures who could perform the kind of vanishing act this one could. Several could blend in, chameleonlike, with their surroundings, but that wouldn’t explain the speed and variety of places this tail had been or the wide-open spaces where he’d felt the thing nearby and yet could see nothing out of the ordinary.
Well, there was no way to get around the tail, particularly when he was stuck here. This invisible follower had also scotched his idea to just take a hike west, maybe to Jorgasnovara, a nontech hex that might well be a place to shake anyone. What difference would it make, though, if the shadow just followed at a discreet distance and remained invisible?
Better to get out by sea if possible. Such creatures as this had to eat and sleep; either they’d miss the boat or they would become more obvious, and more manageable, out in the middle of the ocean. He was pretty sure that a Gedemondan would have a tough time if forced to swim, although, damn it, the big bastards could probably walk on water by now.
He slammed the book shut. Damn it, he just couldn’t stay around here! He didn’t want to live in a damned tent out in this perennially lousy weather, and that was what would happen within another week. It was time to move, to do something, no matter whether it made a major difference or not. The colonel had been delaying and hemming and hawing about sailing opportunities but had yet to come up with anything concrete. Tomorrow he’d give the old bastard an ultimatum. Come up with something now or it was farewell. Damn it, if Jorgasnovara was any sort of option, he’d take it. If not, he’d use the Zone Gate and go back into Ambreza and get the hell out of there somehow via Glathriel to the Sea of Turigen. He could certainly work that out with the Ambrezan Zone ambassador, and that would shake up any tails and meddlers! If nothing else, this damned shadow would have to follow him through the Gate, where he’d be perfectly satisfied to sit and wait awhile for it, or give it up.
At least it would be doing something. God knows where Mavra is by this time, he thought sourly. Probably doing better than I am, anyway.
The shadow was there in the hotel lobby. He could feel it, even though, as usual, he could put neither face nor form to it. It was another reason why he felt he had to bolt. He’d shaken it once and was certain he could do it again. The watcher depended too much on its invisibility or whatever it was using; it hadn’t been subtle in any other way, and that would be its undoing.
The colonel was his usual oozy self, and that didn’t apply just to hi
s external appearance, Brazil thought. In this case at least, the Well’s oddball sense of humor—some sort of reflection, probably, of an early puckish programmer—had simply made the outside match what was already there inside.
“I can’t wait any longer, Colonel,” he told the Leeming. “I believe that this is farewell for us. I will be leaving very soon.”
The colonel was visibly upset, as shown by his sudden involuntary imitation of a gelatin mold. “But—but just give me a few more days, Captain! The ship is almost completed. These things take time, you know, and one cannot will a complex ship into seaworthiness!”
“It doesn’t matter. Either I’m on a ship within the next day or I’m out of here,” Brazil said flatly. “And since, as you say, you can’t materialize a working ship going anywhere near where I want to go, I’ll be making other arrangements.”
“Indeed? What other arrangements, if I might be so bold? I mean, there is considerable ocean between this continent and anywhere else.”
“I have other possibilities. They’re just more work, that’s all. I’ve been getting too soft and lazy here, and too broke. No, Colonel, it won’t do. I’m gone.”
The colonel, still quivering, was also thinking furiously. “Well, give me until tomorrow morning at least. One more night. That is not asking too much, I think. If I do not come up with anything useful, you can still leave.”
Brazil frowned. “And what makes you think you can come up with something in so short a time when you haven’t been able to come up with anything for weeks?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh, well, ah, we have been waiting for the ship to be completed to go where you wished to go, have we not? And if you leave on your own, you will have to make a very circuitous route, is that not so? While it is true that I might not be able to get you near your destination, I can certainly get you on the same continent. Let me look at what ships are in. What I find might not be very comfortable, but at least it will get you somewhere closer. Agreed?”
A half smile crept over Nathan Brazil’s face. “I believe I understand things perfectly now, Colonel. In fact, I feel somewhat chagrined that it took me this long. Tell you what—you go and see what you can come up with and then contact me back here. If I’m still here, we’ll talk some more. If you find that I’ve checked out, forget me. That is the best I can do.”
“I—I think you are being very unreasonable, but I will try and find something with all speed, I promise you. Wait for my call. Until tonight at least.”
“We will see, Colonel. We will see.”
He watched the creature slither off and knew that he didn’t have much of a window of opportunity. Within minutes the colonel would be calling in, reporting to whoever had sent him here, telling them to find him some kind of passage in a hurry, but something slow and sure to wind up going in the wrong direction. Others would be dispatched to put a close watch on him in case he did try to leave.
Of course, there was also the shadow, but somehow he didn’t think that whatever it was worked for the same people who obviously employed the colonel. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but as usual, he knew to trust his instincts.
The girl seemed surprised when he went back toward the room, but she followed. He’d gotten into the habit of using the stairs with her most of the time, not because it was easier for her but because he’d felt he was getting soft and needed the exercise. Well, he’d get his exercise now, that was for sure.
The shadow rarely followed them to the room either because it had trouble with the stairs or because it didn’t feel it needed to cover him from that point.
He’d been settling his bill on a day-to-day basis, so he didn’t need to clear anything with the desk. If they wanted to complain that he hadn’t formally checked out and owed another day, well, let them find him to collect.
It was easy to pack, particularly now. He wanted to travel light and had almost everything he needed in a backpack. He already wore the warm clothing required, and while he might get a little gamy after a while from the lack of too many changes of clothes, he’d coped with that and worse before.
The thermal windows were not designed to open, not only to insulate the room but also to contain any climatic adjustments that inhabitants from other hexes might require, but he’d long ago figured out how they were fastened on and how they were removed for servicing and replacement. It took him about twenty minutes to undo the window he’d picked long ago and to scoop out the puttylike sealant. The window was stubborn, and while working it he almost caused it to fall outward and crash down below, but he managed at the last minute to catch it and carefully manipulate it into the room. Another bill they’d have to send him.
The girl watched, both puzzled and fascinated, as the cold, damp wind blew into the room. She watched, too, as he took out a thin rope of some very strong synthetic material, looped it and buckled one end to a grate just inside the window, then let the rest drop almost five stories to the extended lobby roof below. Satisfied that he had a good solid hold, he put on the backpack and his hat, hoping he wouldn’t lose it in the wind, and went over to the open window. He looked down a bit nervously, then nodded to himself and turned back to her. There was no way around this, and he felt he knew her well enough that she’d figure a way to follow. Her refusal to use things was more a belief pattern than anything imposed, and as with most religious tenants, followers could and did compromise when they had to.
“Well, you either come out this way or you stay here,” he told her. “I am going, and I am not coming back. At least I hope I’m not.”
She stared at him, not comprehending the words, but she got the idea as he climbed up onto the sill and grabbed on to the rope. She knew that he was leaving, sneaking away so that he wouldn’t be seen or followed, and it was no contest in her mind between using the rope and remaining until somebody opened the door. She ran to the window as he was making his way down the side of the building and looked down. When he was clearly close enough to the roof level to jump, she reached out, grasped the rope, and began to descend.
Brazil watched her come down, admiring her seeming effortlessness at the pretty daunting descent. When she reached his side, he took the rope and twirled and twisted one end; the other came free and fell at their feet. He quickly coiled it back up and went to the left side of the roof area.
They had been clever in making certain he had a front-facing room, although he doubted that they had expected anything like this. The roof ran the length of the building’s front but had only a small turn on either side, tapering quickly down to nothing. It was constructed of some metallic-looking synthetic, smooth as glass and unlikely to take anything driven into it with any power he could muster. The drop itself was five, maybe closer to six meters—makable, but he preferred not to unless it was forced on him since it would be onto a stone-hard surface. Nor was there anything he felt was secure enough to attach the rope to. He wished he had plungers or a basic chemistry kit, either of which would allow him to create some kind of suction cup, but while such things were readily available, their purpose would be easily divined by anyone watching him, and he knew they were watching him. Maybe more than one group.
He took a deep breath. Well, there was nothing for it but to jump and risk a break or sprain. He’d jumped worse and made it. He was just getting up the nerve when he felt her hand on his shoulder. He turned, puzzled, and she pointed to the rope. Curious, and relieved at least for the moment from thinking about the jump, he handed it to her. She took it and twisted a fair amount of it around her waist, then handed the rest back. He understood immediately what she was offering to do, but he was unsure about the wisdom of it. She wasn’t, after all, any taller than he was, and while she undoubtedly weighed more, it still would be quite a load with no handholds. Still, he could hardly argue with her, and if she managed to hold long enough for him to get halfway, he could easily drop the rest of the distance. He assumed that she would then jump; she was extremely athletic for one of her hefty bui
ld.
It was starting to rain, one of the icy rains that passed for a warm front in beautiful Hakazit, but in this case he didn’t mind since it had pretty well cleared the streets of general traffic. Not that there weren’t various denizens of the hex and people of various stripes from the hotel bustling about, but they were hurried and busy. Still, it would have to be fast.
“Okay,” he told her with a sigh. “Here goes.” With that he dropped the rope over the side, took it, and climbed quickly down hand over hand. It wasn’t until he dropped the last little bit to the sidewalk that he realized that the rope had been rock steady.
She did not wait to uncoil the rope but jumped the instant he was down, hitting on her bare feet, flexing the knees, then standing up straight. For all it had seemed, it might have been a one-meter jump. She slipped the rope off and handed it to him. He did not wait to coil it but took off for the rear of the building, the girl quickly following behind.
Walking the long distance out would have been absurd; both Brazil and the girl stuck out like lighthouses in this hex. The watchers would have the transport terminals covered, of course, and even if they didn’t, they could trace them easily. That was why Brazil had decided not to leave in those ways but rather in his own.
As the rain came harder, mixed now with ice and creating a frigid slush, he made his way by the alleys and service lanes down toward the docks.
He didn’t care if the Hakazit workers saw them; they were doing nothing illegal or improper using the back ways, and so they would be nothing more than idle curiosities in a boring routine. He was in his element once they reached the docks, where he’d even managed to give the slip to the mysterious shadow.
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