Midnight At the Well of Souls

by Jack L. Chalker

  "Yes, I have a couple," Vardia said nervously. "What sort of creatures will we meet, and how will we possibly cross this place and survive?"

  "The creatures are basically autonomatons, thinking machines," The Rel replied. "This is a high-technological hex; more so, in fact, than the one we've been in. The only reason they coexist is that the Akkafians couldn't exist here for very long, nor is there anything of use to them in The Nation, while the people of this hex would break down in an atmosphere more conducive to your form of life. Come! We've wasted enough time! You'll see how we survive as we go along."

  With that The Diviner and The Rel floated quickly across the border. Vardia, a helpless feeling inside her, followed; and Hain and Skander brought up the rear.

  Skander and Vardia both had the same impression: as if they were suddenly in an environment of kerosene. The odor permeated their bodies and penetrated their breathing. The atmosphere also felt heavy, almost liquid; and, while invisible, it rippled against their bodies like a liquid, even though it was plainly a gas. Moreover, it burned slightly, like a strong alcohol. It took them awhile to get used to it.

  The Rel paced them at close to Vardia's maximum stride; Hain followed at the same pace, between eight and ten kilometers per hour. In less than an hour they came upon a paved road, although the paving stone looked like a single long ribbon of smoothly polished jade. And, as with most roads and trails in the various hexes, this one contained traffic.

  The first thought they all had was that no two denizens of The Nation were alike. There were tall ones, thick ones, thin ones, short ones, even long ones. They moved on wheels, treads, two, four, six, and eight legs, and they had every imaginable type of appendage and some not very imaginable as to purpose. Although all obviously machines of dull-silver metal, all looked as if they had been fashioned in a single stroke. No bolts, joints, or any other such were visible; they bent and flexed the metal like skin, and in any way they wanted.

  Vardia understood and marveled at this.

  Each one was made for a single purpose, to fulfill a single need of the society. It was built to order to do a job, and this it did where and when needed. It was, she thought, the most practical of all the societies she had seen, the perfection of social order and utilitarianism—a blend of the best of the Comworlds' concepts with the lack of physical dependencies of the Czillians.

  She only wished she understood what the people of The Nation were doing.

  There were structures, certainly, more and more of them as they went on. Some were recognizable as buildings, although as varied and oddly shaped as the inhabitants of this strange land. Other structures seemed to be skeletal, or spires, twisted shapes of metal, and even apparently girders of some sort arranged in certain deliberate but baffling ways. Functionally built workmen rushed to and fro. Some were building, of course, but many seemed to be digging holes and filling them up again, while others carried piles of sand from one point and dumped them to form new piles of sand elsewhere. None of it made sense.

  They continued to follow The Diviner and The Rel. They went on through this landscape for hours without stopping and without any of the creatures taking the slightest notice of them. More than once, in fact, both Hain and Vardia had had to move out of the way quickly to avoid being run over by some creature or by the creature's load.

  They came upon a building that seemed to be made of the same stuff as the creatures themselves, but was shaped something like a large barn. The Diviner and The Rel surprised them by turning in at the building's walkway. It waited until they were all at the rather large sliding doorway, then glided up to a very large button, then back, up again, and back again.

  "Do you wish me to push it?" Vardia asked. The response sounded like garbled nonsense to her own ears. The Rel jumped up and down, and The Diviner's lights blinked more agitatedly, and so Vardia pushed the button. The door slid aside with entirely the wrong sounds, and the strange creature that led them glided inside. They followed and found themselves in a very large but barren chamber. Suddenly the door slid shut behind them, and they were in total darkness, illuminated only by the oddly nonilluminating blinks of The Diviner.

  They had gotten so used to the strange sensations produced by the atmosphere of the place that the gradual absence of them was almost as harsh as their original exposure to them.

  There were whirring, clicking, and whooshing noises all around them, going on for what seemed to be several minutes. Then, finally, an inner door slid open to reveal another large barren chamber, this one lit by some kind of indirect lamps in the ceiling. They went in.

  "You may remove your breathing apparatuses now," The Rel told them clearly. "Skander, will you pull Mar Hain's up and off? Thank you. Now, Hain, can you gently—gently—remove the two tubes from Citizen Chon's legs? Yes, that's right."

  They all breathed in fresh air. It was stuffy, weak, and slightly uncomfortable to Vardia; to the others, it was exhilarating.

  "You'll be all right in a little while, Citizen Chon," The Rel assured her. "The atmosphere is mostly pure oxygen, with just a trace of carbon dioxide. This will be added, both from our companions and artificially, in a little while."

  There was another hissing sound, and one of the metallic creatures came out of a side door that had been almost invisible in the back wall. It was humanoid, about the same height as Vardia's 150 centimeters, and was featureless except for a triangular screen on the head.

  "I trust all is satisfactory?" it said, in a voice pleasantly and unexpectedly filled with human tonality. It sounded, in fact, like an eager, middle-aged hotel clerk, far more human than The Rel's monotone.

  "The green one, there, the Czillian, is a plant, not an animal," The Rel told the creature. "It requires carbon dioxide of at least point five percent. Will you raise the level? It is in much discomfort."

  "Oh, I am so very, very sorry," the robot replied so sincerely that they almost believed it. "The matter is being adjusted."

  Just like that Vardia could sense a difference, growing with every minute. She found it much easier to breathe, and the feeling that she was going to black out evaporated. Obviously these things were all linked together. The Czillian marveled at their efficiency, quietly envying their unity.

  "What environments do you require?" the creature asked.

  "Types Twelve, Thirty-one, One Twenty-six, and Thirteen Forty," The Rel told it. "Adjoining, with private intercom, please."

  "It is being prepared," the robot assured them, and bowed slightly.

  "What sort of a place is this?" Skander asked sharply.

  The robot reared back, and Vardia swore that its featureless face had a shocked expression to match the tone of the reply.

  "Why, this is a first-class transient hotel, of course. What else?"

  * * *

  One at a time they were taken to their rooms by small wheeled robots with places for luggage and the like. They put all their gear in storage, except for the air tanks, which were ordered cleaned and refilled, with particular attention to Vardia's getting the right gas.

  Strong hands lifted Skander gently out of the saddle and onto the back of one of the carts. The scientist found herself traveling at high speed down a lighted tunnel, and deposited next to a room with no apparent exterior markings. It opened automatically, and the cart glided inside and stopped.

  Skander was amazed. It was a swimming pool, with a dry slope going gently down into blue water which became deeper and deeper as it went toward the back of the room—the pool was perhaps fifteen meters long by about ten wide. In the water, clearly visible, were several small fish of the kind the Umiau liked the most, and clumps of the blue-green seaweed that was the other staple of their diet.

  Skander rolled off and happily plunged into the water. It was only about four meters deep at its deepest point, but it felt wonderful.

  The little cart left, the door closing behind it. It returned for Hain, who was too large for it. Another cart appeared in seconds, and the two, w
orking in concert, took Hain down the same tunnel to the next door, which was furnished in the zagrt fur of the best nobles and was stocked with a nice supply of the juicy white worms.

  Next, Vardia was taken to a room that had a rich black soil and good artificial sunlight. The room even had a chain dangling from its center, labeled, in Czillian, Pull for darkness. All guests awakened in eight hours after darkness pulled or twelve hours after occupancy. There was a small pool of clear water in the corner, and even a small desk with paper and pen.

  She guessed from her own surroundings what the others' must be like, and only wished she could see The Diviner and The Rel's room. That would almost certainly tell more about the mysterious creatures than anything seen so far.

  There was a mild crackling sound in their rooms, and then The Rel's odd, toneless voice came to the other three.

  "Please enjoy this night at the baron's expense," it said. "Tomorrow I shall arrange transportation for us which will take us to the border. We shall not have such pleasant and easy accommodations after this, so enjoy it. After tomorrow, things get tough."

  Vardia took a long drink and then sank her roots into the rich soil that felt incredible, indescribable. With a feeling of total well-being, she turned off the lights.

  Skander was the last to sleep, since the Umiau had been cooped up in the saddle harness and was enjoying the freedom of the waters. At last she, too, crawled up the bank and pressed the light switch on the wall.

  Each of them slept soundly (except possibly for The Diviner and The Rel, who didn't seem to need it—the others weren't sure), and all were awakened not only by the automatic turning on of the lights but by the voice of The Rel.

  The creature conveyed emotion for the first time, not by tone but by the sharp, fast, excited way it spoke. "Something is terribly wrong!" it told them. "We are being detained for some technicality! We cannot leave today!"

  "Do you mean," Skander's voice came to all of them in a tone of almost total disbelief, "that we're under arrest?"

  "It would seem so," replied The Rel. "I cannot understand it."

  MURITHEL—SOMEWHERE IN THE INTERIOR

  "We're in some kind of trouble," Nathan Brazil said half under his breath.

  For three days now they had moved along the rocky mountain ledges, mostly under cover of darkness guided by Cousin Bat's exceptional night vision and inbred sonar. They had passed hundreds, perhaps thousands of the bloodthirsty Murnies, often coming close to their villages in the dark, quietly working around their dulled campfires.

  They had been exceptionally lucky, and they knew it. But now they had run out of mountains.

  The mountains—hills, really—ended abruptly in a jagged cliff, stretching off at an angle away from the direction they had to go. Ahead, toward the east, flat, unbroken prairie spread out to the horizon.

  The land was still dry this time of year, yet yellow grasses topped with pinkish blossoms carpeted the prairie. Also covering the plains were herds of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of the antelope that were the Murnies' staple diet.

  Murnie camps also dotted the plains, in small groups of three or four skin tents, never more than seven groups in a bunch, arranged in a circle.

  Even as Brazil looked at the scene, appreciating their position, something, some wrongness ahead of him, nagged at his mind.

  "How the hell are we ever going to get through them?" Wuju asked nervously. "We can't fight them all, even in the dark."

  "Well, let's camp here for the day," Cousin Bat suggested, "and tonight I'll take a trip across and see how far we really have to go to reach cover. Maybe you'll think of something by the time I get back."

  They agreed it was the only thing they could do, so they carved out a niche in the rocky ledge and tried to sleep, first Brazil on guard, then Bat, and finally Wuju. The sequence was almost a routine by now.

  Nathan Brazil was dreaming more of his strange dreams when he felt hands gently shaking him. "Nathan!" Wuju whispered urgently. "Wake up! It's almost dark!"

  He got up and tried to shake the sleep from his eyes. He was dizzy and upset from the small amount of food he had allowed himself from the dwindling supply in the packs. The deprivations were taking their toll on him. Wuju had it almost as bad, since there was precious little grass on the trail for one of her bulk. Yet she had never complained.

  They all smelled like concentrated sweat and feces, and Brazil wondered idly if Murnies had good smellers. With no baths for three days and only leaves for toilet paper, he was certain that, in reverse circumstances, he could smell his party five kilometers upwind.

  Cousin Bat was already waiting for the sun to sink completely behind them. Brazil went up to him quietly.

  "You ready, Bat?" he asked the night creature.

  "Not bad," came the reply. "The wind's wrong. If that plain's too broad I might have to come down at least once. I don't like that."

  Brazil nodded. "Well, I want you to land if possible, or at least skim close enough to get me a handful of those weeds."

  "Got something in mind?" the other asked.

  "Maybe," he replied. "If we're lucky—and if we don't have to run to the border."

  "I'll see what I can do," the bat replied dryly. We've got to clear this bunch in one sweep, you know. Once committed, we'll have no place to hide."

  Brazil looked at the creature strangely. "You know, I can't quite figure you out," he said.

  "What's to figure?" Bat replied. "It's my neck, too, you know."

  "Why not just fly over and away? You might not make it all the way in a stretch, but you could pick your own places. Why stick with us?"

  The bat gave that ratty smile, exposing those triple rows of sharply pointed little teeth.

  "To tell you the truth, I thought about it a number of times, particularly in the last few days. It's extremely tempting—all the more so now—but I can't do it."

  "Why not?" pumped Brazil, puzzled.

  The bat thought for a minute. "Let's just say that, once before, I was in a position to help some people I knew were in danger. I don't want more people on my conscience."

  "We all have our crosses to bear," Brazil said in an understanding tone. "Myself more than most."

  "It boils down to more than just conscience, Brazil," responded Cousin Bat earnestly. "I've known some other men. They, like me, wanted power, wealth, fame—all the reasons for striving. They'd lie, cheat, steal, torture, even kill for those. I want these things, too, Brazil, but what more right do I have to them than they? Perhaps, though I don't know for sure, the fact that they would abandon you and I would not makes me superior to them. I'd like to think so."

  And with that, as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the rocks to the west, Cousin Bat took off into the dark.

  A few seconds later, Wuju sidled up behind Brazil. "What a strange man," she said wonderingly.

  He gave a mirthless chuckle. "Bat, you mean? He let his guard down more there than I'd expected. It's the most personal thing we've gotten in all these days. But, no, strange is not the correct word for him. Unusual, perhaps, even uncommon. If he was telling the complete truth there, he's also a good friend, a particularly nasty enemy—and, quite possibly, one of the most potentially dangerous men I've yet met on this planet."

  She didn't understand what he was talking about but didn't pursue it, either. Something much more important was on her mind.

  "Nathan," she asked softly, "are we going to die?"

  "I hope not," he replied lightly, trying to break the mood. "With luck—"

  "The truth, Nathan!" she interrupted. "What are our chances?"

  "Not good," he responded truthfully. "But I've been in spots as bad or worse in my long life. I survive, Wuju. I—" His voice broke off abruptly, and he averted his eyes from hers. She understood, and there were small tears in her eyes.

  "But the people around you don't," she finished. "That's it, isn't it? That's your cross. How many times have you been a lone survivor?"
/>   He looked out into the darkness for a minute. Then, without turning, he said, "I can't count that high, Wuju."

  * * *

  Cousin Bat returned in a little over an hour. Brazil and Wuju were doing something just inside the shelter, and he was curious.

  They looked up from their work as be approached, and Brazil asked the simple but all-important question: "Well?"

  "Five kilometers, give or take," the bat replied evenly. "Before you get any farther there's a steep drop to a river valley, mud sides with slow, shallow water. It's barely flowing."

  Brazil seemed to brighten at the news, particularly of the river's speed and shallowness. "Can we get a straight run, more or less?" he asked.

  The bat nodded. "Once we get down, I'll position you and point you in the right direction. I'll stay over you once you get started to keep you on the right track."

  "Good! Good!" Brazil enthused. "Now, what about the antelope?"

  "Tens of thousands of them," the other replied. "Together in big groups. Nothing too near us, though."

  "Excellent! Excellent!" Brazil seemed to get more excited with every word. "And now the clincher—did you get some of that grass?"

  Cousin Bat turned and walked back to where he had landed, picking up a clump of straw with one foot. Holding it, he hobbled back to them and dropped the grass at Brazil's feet.

  The man picked it up expectantly, feeling it, even biting it. It was somewhat brittle, and gave a slight snap when it was bent too far.

  "Just out of curiosity, what are you doing?" the bat asked.

  Brazil reached down into a pouch and removed a small handful of the tiny sticks inside.

  "Safety matches," he explained. "Haven't you noticed it, or thought about it, you two? Haven't you seen out there on the plain?"

  They both looked at him with blank expressions. "I haven't seen anything except antelope, Murnies, and grass," said Wuju, trying to think.

  "No! No!" Brazil responded, shaking his head animatedly. "Not what you see! What you don't see! Look out there into the darkness! Tell me what you see."