Although born looking physically eight or nine in size and proportion—and able to stand, walk, even run within a few hours of birth—the child would be toothless for over a year and could only feed by nursing. It needed almost constant supervision, even though hair developed in the first few weeks affording a measure of protection. Born only with the instincts of a wild animal, the boy would have to learn how to reason, to speak, to act responsibly. It was difficult for Julee to get used to at first, since after the first month the child looked like a boy of about ten.
But he would look that way for years, they told her, perhaps eight or ten, until puberty. Until then they would be his world; after that, he would have to pull his own load.
But this peaceful, almost idyllic existence was interrupted by the start of her nightmares. They often involved racing pain, torture, and an evil, leering monstrous face that demanded horrible things of her. Many nights she woke up screaming, and it took hours to calm her down.
She began seeing the town Healer—the Dillian wasn't a doctor, because they had never been able to talk one into moving up into the isolated wilderness, but she could treat minor injuries and illnesses and set broken bones and the like. Anything really serious required using the old treadmill-powered raft to get the patient downlake. That was not really as difficult as it sounded because there was a fairly strong current that led to the falls at the downlake town.
Talking to the Healer helped, but the sleeping powders didn't. As fall started turning the leaves a riot of colors, and the snow began to creep down from the mountaintops, with occasional cold winds breaking through the still comfortable warm air, she was drawn and looked not at all well. Drinking the warm, potent ale seemed to help for a while, but she was more and more in a state of intoxication which made her less useful and harder to live with.
The villagers and her two companions were concerned but felt helpless as she seemed to deteriorate daily. The nightmares became worse and more frequent, the drinking increasing to compensate. She had been there almost twelve weeks, and she was miserable.
One particularly chilly day she came from the little bar in a high state of inebriation that even the cold wouldn't moderate, wandering down to the dock as the steamboat came in. She stared at a figure dressed in rugged furs sitting on the top deck, outside the little pilothouse that had been erected when the season changed.
It was alien. It looked human, but had only two legs and no hindquarters. Its features were hidden under a big fur hat, but it seemed to be smoking a pipe—a habit only a few of the oldest around did because of the difficulty of getting the weeds to stuff into it. She wasn't sure if this was a creature of her drunk or of her nightmares, and she just stared at it.
The boat tied up and the creature, or vision, joined the captain in walking down to the first level and onto the dock. Klamath spotted her, and pointed. The funny two-legged creature, so small next to the Dillians, nodded and walked over to her.
She drew back apprehensively, stifling a sudden and overwhelming urge to run.
The creature approached her cautiously and called out, in Dillian, "Wu Julee? Is that you, Wu Julee?" The voice seemed familiar, somehow. He stopped about two meters from her, took the huge, curved pipe from his mouth, and pulled off the furry headpiece.
Wu Julee screamed and screamed, then suddenly seemed to collapse, hitting the ground hard in a dead faint.
Klamath and many of the villagers rushed up to her in concern.
"Damn!" said the creature. "Why do I always have that effect on women?"
For the shock of seeing his face had brought it all back to her suddenly and in full force. The only change the Well World had made in Nathan Brazil was his clothes.
THE BARONY OF AZKFRU, AKKAFIAN EMPIRE
The Baron Azkfru was furious.
"What do you mean he wasn't there?" he stormed.
The Diviner and The Rel remained impassive and apparently unperturbed as usual.
"We had no problems concealing ourselves through the first day," The Rel reported, "and acted about an hour after nightfall. When we approached the structure where Skander almost had to be, The Diviner sensed a change in the balancing equation. A new factor had been introduced. Skander had been there, but had left."
"What do you mean a new factor?" snarled the Baron.
"In the most basic terms," The Rel explained patiently, "someone knew we were coming and what we were after. So either by direct warning or the indirect action of others, Skander was not there when we were. It was much too dangerous to remain there any length of time awaiting a possible return, so we broke off and returned here."
Azkfru was stunned. "A leak? Here? But, that's impossible! It couldn't have been any of my people—they're too thoroughly under my control. And, if anyone from the Imperial Palace had a reconditioned plant here, I wouldn't still be alive now. If there's a leak, it must be on your side."
"It is possible our intentions were divined in the same way we divine the actions of others," The Rel admitted, "but it is impossible for any in my own leadership to have betrayed us, and you, yourself, saw to the security when we came cross Zone. A release of information on your side remains the most likely explanation."
"Well, we'll dismiss the blame for now," Azkfru said more calmly, "and proceed from here. What do we do now?"
"Skander is still the only link we have to concrete knowledge of the puzzle," The Rel pointed out. "And, its location is known, if presently unattainable. The Diviner states that Skander's research was incomplete, and it must return to the learning place sooner or later. We are now attuned to that, and will know when. It is suggested that we bide our time until this Skander is again within our grasp. We did not compromise the plan, we just about proved it. It is still workable."
"Very well," growled Azkfru. "Will you stay here?"
"We miss our homeland and constructive endeavor," The Rel replied, "but the mission is too vital. We will remain. Our needs are few, our requirements simple. A dark, bare cell will be sufficient, and an avenue to the surface every once in a while to stand beneath the stars. Nothing more. In the meantime, I would check your own security. It will profit us little if such a thing happens again!"
Soon after The Diviner and The Rel were seen to, the baron flew to the Imperial Palace and, securing a Zone pass, returned to his office in Zone. He was confident that he wouldn't be alive if it were any of his own people, so that left alien intervention—which meant Zone.
The offices, even the walls, were practically torn apart. It took almost two days and the destruction of more than half the embassy to find it. A tiny little transmitter inserted in his communications unit in his own office! His technicians examined it, but could be of little help.
"The range is such that it would carry to over four hundred other embassies," one explained to him. "Of the four hundred, almost three hundred are functional and used, and, of those, more than half are technologically capable of creating such a device, while the rest could probably purchase it untraceably, and almost all could place the device during a slow period when you were away."
He had most of his office staff ritually executed anyway, not that it made him feel any better—just less foolish.
Someone had heard him kill General Ytil.
Someone had spied when The Diviner and The Rel had come through, and listened to their initial conversations in his office.
No more, he knew. But that was bad enough.
Someone else now knew at least what Skander was.
He had no choice, though, he realized. He had to wait.
Almost fifteen weeks.
THE CENTER IN CZILL
Vardia was assigned a basic apprentice's job, doing computer research. She learned fast—almost anything they taught her—even though she couldn't make a great deal of sense out of her part of the project she was on. It was like seeing only one random page from a huge book. In itself, nothing made any sense. Only when put together with thousands of other pages did a picture f
inally emerge, and even then the top researchers had the unenviable job of fitting all the pages together in the proper order.
She enjoyed the life immensely. Even though she didn't understand her work, it was a constructive function with purpose, serving the social need. It was a comfortable niche. Here, indeed, is social perfection, she thought. Cooperation without conflict, with no basic needs beyond sleep and water, doing things that meant something.
After a couple of weeks on the job she began feeling somewhat dizzy at times. The spells would come on her, apparently without cause, and would disappear just as mysteriously. After a few such episodes she went to the central clinic. The doctors made a few very routine tests, then explained the problem to her.
"You're twinning," the physician said. "Nothing to be concerned about. In fact, it's wonderful—the only surprise is that it has happened so fast after joining us."
Vardia was stunned. She had met some twins off and on at the Center, but the idea that it would happen to her just never occurred to her.
"What will this do to my work?" she asked apprehensively.
"Nothing, really," the doctor told her. "You'll simply grow as each cell begins its duplication process. A new you will take shape growing out from your back. This process will make you a bit dizzy and weak, and, near its completion, will cause some severe disorientation."
"How long does the process take?" she asked.
"Four weeks if you continue a normal schedule," was the reply. "If you're willing to plant day and night, about ten days."
She decided to get it over with if she could. Although everyone else seemed excited for her, she, herself, was scared and upset. Her supervisor was only too glad to give her time off, as she had not worked on the project long enough to be irreplaceable. So she picked a quiet spot away from the Center and near the river and planted.
There was no problem during the nights, of course, but during the day, when she had to root by exercising the rooting tendrils voluntarily, she quickly became bored. Except for early morning and just before dusk, she was alone in the camp or else surrounded by unconscious Czillians sleeping off long round-the-clock work periods.
On the third day, she knew she had to have water and uprooted to go down to the stream. Doing so was more difficult than she would have thought possible. She felt as if she weighed a ton, and balance was a real problem. She could reach back and feel the growth out of her back, but it didn't make much sense.
At the river's edge she saw a Umiau.
She had seen them at the Center, of course, but only going from one place to another. This was the first one she had seen close up, and it just seemed to be lying there, stretched out on the sand, asleep.
The Umiau had the lower body of a fish, silvery-blue scales going down to a flat, divided tail fin. Above the waist it remained the light blue color, but the shiny scales were gone, leaving a smooth but deceptively tough skin. Just below the transition line was a very large vaginal cavity.
The Umiau had two large and very firm breasts, and the face of a woman who, were she in Brazil's world, would have been considered beautiful despite hair that seemed to flow like silvery tinsel and bright blue lips. The ears, normally covered by the hair, were shaped like tiny shells and set almost flush against the sides of the head, and, Vardia saw, the nose had some sort of skin flaps that moved in and out as the creature breathed, probably to keep water out when swimming, she guessed. The long, muscular arms ended in hands with long, thin fingers and a thumb, all connected by a webbing.
Vardia stepped in to drink, and, as she did so, she saw other Umiau on and off along the banks, some swimming gracefully and effortlessly on or just beneath the surface. The river was shallow here, near the banks, but almost two meters deep in the center. On land they were awkward, crawling along on their hands or, at the Center, using electric wheelchairs.
But, as she saw from the swimmers in the river's clear water, in their own element they were beautiful.
Most, like the sleeper nearby, wore bracelets of some colorful coral, necklaces, tiny shell earrings, or other adornments. She had never understood jewelry as a human, and she didn't understand it now.
They all looked alike to her except for size. She wondered idly if they were all women.
Finishing her drink, she made her way, slowly, to the shore. She made large splashes and was terrified she would fall.
The noise awakened the sleeper.
"Well, hello!" she said in a pleasant, musical voice. The Umiau could make the sounds of the Czillian language, and most of them at the Center knew it. Czillians could not mock any other, so all conversations were in the Czillian tongue.
"I—I'm sorry if I awakened you," Vardia apologized.
"That's all right," the Umiau replied, and yawned. "I shouldn't be wasting my time sleeping, anyway. The sun dries me out and I have a fever for hours after." She noticed Vardia's problem. "Twinning, huh?"
"Y-yes," Vardia replied, a little embarrassed. "My first time. It's awful."
"I sympathize," the mermaid said. "I passed the egg this cycle, but I'll receive it next."
Vardia decided to root near the stream for a while, and did. "I don't understand you," she told the creatlure hesitantly. "Are you, then, a female?"
The Umiau laughed. "As much as you," she replied. "We're hermaphrodites. One year we make an egg, then pass it to another who didn't, where it's shot with sperm and develops. The next year, you get the egg passed to you. The third year you're a neuter; then the cycle starts all over again."
"You cannot abstain, then?" Vardia asked innocently.
The Umiau laughed again. "Sure, but few do, unless they get themselves sterilized. When the urge hits, honey, you do it!"
"It is pleasant, then?" Vardia persisted innocently.
"Unbelievably," the Umiau replied knowingly.
"I wish this was," Vardia pouted. "It is making me miserable."
"I wouldn't worry about it," the Umiau told her. "You only do it two or three times in your very long lives." The mermaid suddenly glanced at the sun. "Well, it's getting late. It's been pleasant talking with you, but I have to go. Don't worry—you'll make out. The twin's coming along fine."
And, without another word, it crawled into the water more rapidly than Vardia would have suspected possible and swam away.
* * *
The next few days were mostly boring repetitions of the earlier ones, although she did occasionally talk to other Umiau for brief periods.
On the ninth day when she needed water again, she discovered she had little control over herself. Every forward movement seemed to be countered by the twin now almost fully developed on her back. Even her thoughts ran confused, every thought seeming to double, echoing in her mind. It took immense concentration to get to the water, and, in getting out, she fell.
She lay there for some time, feeling embarrassed and helpless, when she suddenly realized a curious fact, a thought that echoed through her mind.
I'm I'm seeing seeing in in both both directions directions, her mind thought.
Getting up was beyond her, she knew, and she waited most of the afternoon for help. The confusing double sight didn't help her, since both scenes seemed to be double exposures.
She tried to move her head, but found she couldn't without burying it in the sandy bank. Finally, an hour or two before sunset, others came for rooting and pulled her out and helped her back to a rooting spot.
The tenth day was the worst. She couldn't think straight at all, couldn't move at all, couldn't judge scenes, distances, or anything. Even sounds were duplicated.
The sensation was miserable and it seemed to go on forever.
On the eleventh day nothing was possible, and she was in a delirium. About midday, though, there was a sudden release, and she felt as if half of her had suddenly, ghostlike, walked out of her. Everything returned to normal very suddenly, but she felt so terribly weak that she passed out in broad daylight.
The twelfth day dawned normall
y, and she felt much better, almost, she thought, euphoric. She uprooted and took a hesitant step forward. "This is more like it!" she said aloud, feeling light and in total control again.
And, at exactly the same moment, another voice said exactly the same thing! They both turned around with the same motion.
Two identical Vardia's stood looking, amazed, at each other.
"So you're the twin," they both said simultaneously.
"I'm not, you are!" they both insisted.
Or am I? each thought. Would the twin know?
Everything was duplicated. Everything. Even the memories and personality. That's why they kept saying and doing the same things, they both realized. Will we ever know which is which? they both thought. Or did it matter? They both came out of the same body.
Together they set out for the Center.
They walked wordlessly, in perfect unison, even the random gestures absolutely duplicated. Communication was unnecessary, since each knew exactly what the other was thinking and thought the same thing. The procedure was well established. Once at the reception desk, they were taken to different rooms where doctors checked them. Pronounced fit and healthy to go back to work, each was assigned to a part of the project different from that she had previously been working on, although with similar duties.
"Will I ever see my twin again?" asked the Vardia who was in Wing 4.
"Probably," the supervisor replied. "But we're going to get you into divergent fields and activities as quickly as possible so each of you can develop a separate path. Once you've had a variety of experiences to make you sufficiently different, there's no reason not to see each other if you like."
In the meantime the other Vardia, having asked the question sooner and having received the same answer, was settling in to a very different sort of position, even though the basic computer problem was the same.
She began working with a Umiau, for all the world identical to the one she had talked with along the riverbank. Her name—Vardia's mind insisted on the feminine for them even though they were neither—and both—was Endil Cannot.
Midnight At the Well of Souls Page 15