03. Gods at the Well of Souls (39 page)

"But what? She is almost certainly not going to be able to do it. I admit that.  But where is the harm in trying it? Just once?" 

"And who would be down there with her?" 

"Just us. She, we two, and the baby, of course, which she, as a good mother,  keeps with her. If we can get in, I would like that baby to go in as well. Think  of the possibilities. Think of what powers we could claim for that child! Why,  there would be cults built around the child! More power to those who control the  growing child than from any drugs, because there is no product to move except  belief. Campos the god-child! And Madame Campos, the only creature known in the  history of the universe to be both a father and fully female! And you, the high  priest of it all. Makes you think, does it not?" 

"Well, I will only say that if you want to be humored, I will go along. But do  not be too crushed if nothing at all happens at midnight. I still believe Mavra  Chang will eventually show up here and that she, not this foolishness, is the  key to it all." 

"Worth a try, though, no?" 

"Whatever you say. On the other hand, on the off chance that this impossible  idea actually works, have you considered that we might not be able to get back  out of there?" 

"You do not need to come." 

"Oh, no, I did not say anything about that. I will be there with you, I assure  you. If there is the chance of anything happening, even a change in the texture  of the wall or the transparency of its opening, I should like to be there to see  it." 

Tony watched the evil pair talking and went over to Anne Marie. "I don't like  it. Those two are up to something, and whenever they are up to something, it is  always bad for everyone else." 

Anne Marie looked over at the two, perhaps ten meters away, and nodded. "I  agree. And anything they might be up to might well not be good for Terry and  that sweet little baby, either. I think we'll keep a good watch on her tonight." The Well had sent meteors to summon them and bring them through; it had slowly,  subtly manipulated probabilities to ensure mat at least one Watcher would come  to it. It had used all its tricks, major and minor, to accomplish the simple  goal that its ancient, automated instructions required of it, and because it was  a machine, it had used a circuitous route that would be inexplicable to the  linear thinkers who had been the targets of its convoluted, bizarre program. Now  all the sequences were run; now all the mechanisms were in place. Even Nathan  Brazil, who knew it best of those alive, had tried to fight it in the past and  failed, but while patient, the Well would never be denied. Now all the means and  methods were in place, the players assembled, each well suited to do what was  required to accomplish the Well's own ends, although they themselves were  unaware of it. And only Mavra Chang had confidence in it even though she could  not feel its hand. 

It was time. 

The wind was up, blowing directly in their faces across the flattened field.  Mavra Chang had examined and even played with the large kite under which she was  now strapped but had refused a test flight. Much too risky, too much chance of a  crash, and no chance then to make another attempt. One shot for everything.  Fifteen minutes of window, fifteen minutes to win the game, set, and match in  spite of all the forces arrayed against her. The only thing she was certain of,  though whether the knowledge came from her own ancient experience or had been  fed to her by the Well, was that a hang glider was guided not with hands and  feet but with subtle shifts of the pilot's weight. She was lighter than any of  the natives of the hex, but she was sure she weighed enough to maneuver the  craft, perhaps higher and faster than even the creatures for which it had been  designed. It was more than a hope; it was a necessity that it was true. Julian watched, only half-concealed in the brush, and frowned as she saw Terry  come out, carrying something indistinct in her arms, flanked by both the colonel  and Juana Campos. The latter was even smoking one of Taluud's cigars, the puffs  of smoke rising and dissipating in the wind. She was happy to see Terry; it  allayed one of her worst fears. Still, what were those villains doing with her?  And- wharf They were walking through the border, down the ramp to the Avenue!  What the hell? 

She checked the guards who stood overlooking the vast alien entryway below,  bathed in the night glow of the Avenue's strange luminescence, and saw them  getting nervous but not yet moving. 

Now the Dillians were moving toward the Avenue rampway! One of them halted, then  the other, and they conferred for a moment. Then one trotted over to a large  tent nearby and entered, the other waiting at the start of the ramp, dividing  her attention between the tent and what was going on below. 

The one in the tent emerged with something large and strange-looking on her  back. Could that be Gus? Why take him down there? And why was he so visible? Something was definitely wrong. There were four Cloptans as well, two males and  two females, and they began heatedly conferring with each other, then they  checked their guns, and they, too, were heading down! 

My God! Julian thought. Who's next? The whole damned Verionese army? Her eyes went back to the guards, who were visibly nervous at the sight of so  many people going down into the Avenue. One of them shouted something, but if  there was a reply, Julian couldn't hear it. 

Over to one side there was activity in the Verionese army camp. She thought of calling the whole thing off for the night, but Mavra was already  strapped in, Lori was hitched up, and it was all ready to go. Mavra would never  understand or forgive her if she didn't launch now, but maybe this was all just  as well. If Mavra saw the assemblage down there, she might abort the thing  herself. At least, Julian hoped so. This was getting ridiculous, and there was  no way to warn anybody! 

She frantically considered trying to write something that Mavra could read, but  now the activity from the army camp revealed itself as the changing of the  guard; two privates and an officer or sergeant were marching over to relieve the  two agitated guards. 

She had no choice and no time! There was absolutely nothing she could do about  this! 

Oh, my God! Here we go! 

Midnight 

at the Well of Souls  

Julian raced for the field, saw where Lori was set up, and barely checked to see  if Mavra was okay. It didn't matter anymore. Either it went right or it was  over. 

She pulled up next to Lori, fumbling with the stupid makeshift pull strap. She  finally got it, took a deep breath, and tried to get hold of herself, then  clamped it around her neck and shoulders. She turned, lined up with Lori on all  fours, then said, "NOW!" 

Lori might not have understood the word, but the intent and emotion were clear.  He kicked into action, and the two of them suddenly felt the straps tighten and  then something dragging along behind them. There was no chance, no way, to look  and see if it was working; they just had to keep running at full gallop and hope  for the best. 

Mavra wasn't as prepared for the yank and the move forward as she had thought,  and the pull tab that would release the straps fell from her beak. She strained  forward, tied into a kite never built for somebody like her, trying to get the  last little fingernail-width distance to grab the ring again while rolling  forward on her stomach, bouncing on the makeshift carriage. 

She felt the kite's leading edge bite into the wind, start to lift, and then  come down again. Then it caught once more, and she felt herself rising free of  the carriage and of pressure below. With a last desperate attempt that felt like  she was tearing her neck from her shoulders, she got the ring, pulled it, and  then, with her head, forced the kite up, up as the straps dropped away. It was a lot trickier, bouncier, and rougher then Mavra had thought it would be.  No time to look down, no time for bearings; she had to keep it into the wind and  with sheer head and neck motion force it up, up. like climbing stairs in the  air. Once or twice she almost lost it and had to use the controls rigged to her  feet to roll and stabilize while losing altitude, and it took every single ounce  of strength and will to fight the thing and get another updraft and climb,  climb, climb all over again ... 

Suddenly she was well over the whole field and banked south, trying to gain more  and more altitude so that she could get some feel for the craft and sight her  objective. The nearly absolute blackness had been the equatorial wall; now she  was up, maybe several hundred meters, and angled so that she could see much of  the landscape beyond. 

For a moment the view, the tiny lights, torches, lamps, and glow on the horizon  of the capital were hypnotizing. She had forgotten what it was like after all  this time . .. 

From somewhere, something was giving her more and more the feel of the thing  with each moment aloft, how it steered, how it angled, climbed, and dove, and  she didn't fight it. The glider was controlled with very subtle shifts of body  weight, and the greatest problem was resisting the urge to overcompensate. As  her skill at maneuvering increased so did her confidence. This wingless,  flightless bird was soaring now! 

She banked back across the field and turned toward the camp and the Avenue.  Below her, she could see Julian and Lori going much too slowly, trotting toward  the camp. Hurry up! Hurry up, you idiots! 

It would be tricky, but she decided to make a single trial pass and see what she  was dealing with inside the Avenue if she could. The border kept vision a bit  dimmer and less clear than she would have liked, but she thought she could see  people down there. That was bad, but she couldn't afford to risk a second pass.  There was some commotion in the Verion army camp, and a lot of soldiers seemed  to be rushing to the edge of the abyss, even though some of them were  half-dressed. 

She couldn't worry about any of this. Something inside her, or perhaps beyond  her, from beyond that equatorial wall was saying, "Now, now! You must come to me  now!" She took a wide swath around the camp, the airfield, and beyond, proceeded  a bit south again, and steeled herself to make the attempt at the door. It would  be dead reckoning, and she would have to guess the distance and descent right  the first time. The only sure and reasonable way in was to cross the border,  straighten up, and fly directly at the door, hoping she sustained enough lift to  reach it and did not crash against the wall or drop like a stone. Below her, Julian had taken her time to get her breath and to disconnect Lori  and herself from the other end of those straps. Then she'd started off toward  the Avenue, but slowly, at not even a brisk trot. Lori matched her but wondered  what was wrong. The messages he'd read said (hat they had to move quickly at  this point and that time was of the essence once Mavra was away. What was  holding Julian back? Why was she almost slowing to a dead stop? Suddenly he sensed that she was afraid. After all this, she was afraid to take  the last gamble herself! 

Lori had neither much hope nor ambition for all this, but he damned well wasn't  not going to see it through. He dropped back, reached over, and nipped her on  the ass right near her tail. She started and involuntarily speeded up, and now  he raced forward, taking the lead, charging as fast as he could go right into  the middle of the Verion army camp. For some reason Julian found herself unable  to take her eyes off him. She just ran after him, and ran, and ran, right into  that camp herself. 

The major, the sergeant, and several troopers were all arguing and granting over  jurisdiction and procedure and what the hell they were supposed to do. Nobody  had ever really gone down there without permission before, and nobody wanted to  take the responsibility for doing anything at all. Everybody kept making excuses  and passing the buck, with the result that nothing was decided at all. Suddenly somebody yelled, "Watch it! Animals coming!" 

And the brave helmeted troops of Verion scrambled to get out of the way as first  a pony and then another- pony"?-ran right through them and to the Avenue ramp. Lori found it hard to put the brakes on, but there were four turns and no  guardrails in the ramp going down. He only hoped that Julian was behind him and  that she wouldn't push him over. 

She did almost fall over the first turn and down into the hard culvert below,  but while one leg slipped off the edge, she managed somehow to keep a grip with  the other three and scramble back up. She wasn't thinking at all; she had this  irresistible impulse to follow the horse ahead of her, and she was going to do  it come hell or high water. 

Ellerbantan monitors on the other side were far more comfortable but no less  bored than the Verionites opposite. Two of them sat watching control screens  more or less, dreaming about anything but being there, when one of them suddenly  jerked up and punched the other with a tentacle. 

"Look at that! It's a whole mob going down there from Verion for the midnight  show!" 

The other one devoted all three eyes to the scene, then relaxed. "Don't worry  about it. See how many races are there? It's just one of those damned tour  groups." 

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," the other agreed. "Still, it's funny they didn't  follow the usual routine and come over and warn us." 

"Aw, you know those Verionites. Walk all the way down, across, and back up here  just for that?" 

"Yeah," the other sighed in disgust. "If there was something wrong, they'd be  here in a flash, shoot off one of those flares or something. Heck, if those were  anything more than tourists, they could take 'em out with arrows." "My point exactly. So relax," said the first one, and went back to its  daydreaming.