Charon (35 page)

 
Zala looked up. I could see a mixture of awe and fright in her face that couldn't be faked—or so I thought. I was pretty imposing, after all. I stood there a moment, just looking at her, as the door slid shut behind me.

 
She looked, I had to admit, no worse for wear. Aside from the loose-fitting blue slacks and shirt which marked her as a service worker she hadn't changed since the last time I'd seen her, there on the street so many months before. And she still had Morah's mark on her, the horns having settled in so well that they appeared almost natural. "Zala Embuay?" I asked, sounding as officious as possible.

 
She nodded hesitantly, and I caught a slight gulp, but she said nothing.

 
"Zala, I'm going to give you some hard-fact ground rules right in the beginning," I went on. "First of all, you might notice in the far corner there two small devices. One is a camera—what is going on here is being recorded. The other is an automatic laser weapon that will follow you no matter what
The
door will not open until and unless / say so, and it can only be operated by the person on the other end of that camera. Do you understand?"

 
She nodded weakly, but summoned up enough courage to ask, in a trembling voice, "Wha . . . what's this all about? What have I done?"

 
"I think you know. At first we thought you didn't know, but now it's been realized that you almost had to know, or at least suspect"

 
"I—I don't know what you're talking about"

 
"I think you do. Tell me, you were a member of the cult of the Destroyer in Bourget?"

 
She nodded hesitantly.

 
"Who was the leader of the cult?"

 
"I—I can't tell you that
It
is forbidden."

 
"Zala, as you know well,
we
are the superiors of that organization. Hence, we already know the name."

 
"Then why ask me?"

 
I smiled. She wasn't quite as scared as she was pretending to be.
"Because I want to see if
you
know."

 
"Of
course I
know. I
said I
was a member, didn't I?"

 
"Then tell me the name."

 
I could see thinking going on behind those frightened eyes. "I—I really can't A spell was cast to prevent us from revealing it even if we wanted to.
As protection."

 
Good ploy, I reflected. "You and I know that's not really true. I want the name. You won't leave here without giving it"

 
She shook her head in bewilderment. "I—I really can't I
did
get a spell. I was scared ..."

 
I smiled. "You can't tell me, it's true, but not because of a spell
You
can't tell me.
because
you really don't know. You don't remember any of those meetings, do you?"

 
"I—of course I do! That's ridiculous!"

 
"If you
did
remember, you'd know that the leader of the cult was disguised by a spell, as were most of the members. You couldn't know
Who
that head was—and no spell would prevent you from telling me that. You're lying, Zala Em-buay. You were never a member of that cult."

 
"I—of course I was! See?" She pointed to the horns. "How else could I get
these!
"

 
"That
is the question we're trying to answer here. You see, in the confusion there really wasn't enough time or organization to check
everybody
against the membership rolls. They had to take anybody who suddenly sprouted a pair of horns. We've already caught a few spies." .That was a complete lie, although the thought had occurred to Koril and his staff and histories had been taken. The truth was, nobody
could
really be sure, so they were simply all under observation and in no case permitted to leave or even approach the cargo areas, Zala included, "They learned that death is the least punishment a spy can expect—here."

 
At that moment I reached out to her and touched her
\va,
effortlessly weaving a mild demand spell. She gave a sharp cry and stood up. I had to give a slight paralyzing stroke to her legs to keep her from involuntarily bolting. I had to be dramatic while being careful not to juggle mass, since this was to be a strictly temporary spell—but that was all right. The
wa
took days, even weeks, to complete a physical change, whereas the
perception
of that change was immediate.

 
She watched as her hands and arms shriveled, changed,
became
a mottled green and brown, then larger and heavier as they turned into perfectly repulsive suckered tentacles that, to her, weighed half a ton.
"Nor
she screamed.

 
"Want a mirror to see the rest of you?" I taunted, feeling less than wonderful about all this but realizing its need. Korman said she would break only under extreme pressure, and this was certainly that.

 
"No! No! Nor
she wailed.
"Kiral
Please
help me! Kira!
Kira!"

 
I
suddenly felt a little better. So she
did
know! I watched and waited to see what would happen next.

 
Korman had told me that I would one day perceive the
wa
as he did—and I was well past that point The two forebrains of Zala Embuay showed clearly, not just as two brains but as two distinct and particularly weird ones. From the odd, distorted
wa
sense they looked about equal, each smaller than the norm for a human. If a person had the Power, you could see the information flow from
wa
to
wa
.
Zala didn't—but somebody did. Somebody, in fact, abruptly started doing the nearly impossible.

 
The message flares, terribly strong, flowed from the brain to the body and back again, measuring, checking the spell which showed as a spider's web of
wa
energy, then unraveling it in the same manner as I had unraveled Dar-va's spell and my own. Whoever was doing it—and it had to be Zala herself—was a stronger sore than the spell, which was, of course, a simple one but still a level VI or VII. I began to wonder if this mind might be more powerful than my own, and reflected that I just might have to find out. One thing was clear—not only was the mind powerful, it was extremely well trained. When?
And by whom?

 
I made no effort to defend the spell and it broke easily, restoring Zala quickly to her former appearance. Very briefly I saw a vision of that stronger, Amazonlike Zala of those last moments on the streets of Bourget. But the vision was fleeting and quickly gone. Kira, it appeared, was still not quite willing to meet me face to face.

 
Zala sat down, looking weak and shaken. I did not intend to let her get off that easily.

 
"Zala, who is Kira?"
I asked her.

 
She just shook her head and wouldn't look at me directly.

 
"She's inside you, isn't she?" I pressed. "Kira and you share the same body, don't you? And that's why you're here, on Charon—because of Kira,
isn't that right?
Zala, what is Kira?"

 
She put her hands to her ears, trying to block out my voice, but it wasn't going to be that easy.

 
"Kira, if you can hear me, understand me, you'd better put in an appearance," I said sharply. "Your spells are good, but that was a minor one for me and I'm hardly the most powerful sore here. Any attempt to disable that laser by spell will be instantly detected and it will fire.
Wa
takes time to weave. I don't think anybody can beat the speed of light. You'll sit here until you come out, Kira. Sit here without food, without water, in a plain and empty room in a place in the desert from which there's no escape."

 
Zala's head turned and looked at the laser-camera combination, but she made no attempt at it. Finally she turned to me. "Damn you! Who the hell
are
you, anyway?'

 
I smiled. "Why, Zala, honey, it's your old loving husband, dear old Park, in his new suit of changeling clothes. Remember me?"

 
That
got her, more than the threats or anything. "Park?" she managed weakly. "Is that really—you?"

 
I bowed slightly. "It's me, all right. And if it's any consolation, you were blown from the beginning. Korman actually assigned me to keep close to you and report. He thought you were a new kind of Confederacy assassin. Your rather unique mind shines like a beacon to all who can see the
wa
,
I'm afraid."

 
She gasped. I could tell that this was genuine news to her—and to her counterpart too, I suspected. The fact
is,
self-control or not, we never accurately see
ourselves
in
wa
terms.
Wa
doesn't reflect in mirrors.

 
"What I'm telling you is all on the level," I assured her. "Koril's had a small team trying to figure out the unique part of your brain almost from the moment you arrived. There's been some debate on the science and security staffs about you. They've let you run, so far, to see what would happen—and nothing
did
. So we're making it happen. Now, don't you think it's time the truth comes out? If you're working for Morah, you might as well admit it and go from there. If you're working for anybody else, we want to know. And if you're not working for anybody, we want to know just what the hell this is all about."

 
She shook her head, as if to clear it.
"I—oh, hell.
What's the use of going on any further? I'm going to tell you— unless I'm stopped."

 
"By Kira."

 
She nodded.
"By Kira."

 
"Zala, what is Kira?"

 
"She—she's my sister. What I told you—you
really
are Park?—at the start was mostly true. I was an experiment.
We
were. A whole different kind of brain, they said.
Two of us.
Two complete people in one body. It's really funny saying that, 'cause I don't really know what it's like not to have it."

 
I shook my head in wonder.
"But why?
What was the purpose? What was the aim? Surely somebody didn't take this kind of chance just to experiment? It wouldn't be worth the risk."

 
She chuckled dryly.
"The risk.
What risk? You have too high an opinion of the Confederacy, Park. That's your trouble. You see only what's on top, out there for show, and you swallow it whole, just like most of the jerks. You think the Four Lords just sit here and run then* little worlds?
Just because they're trapped here?
That's a laugh. They run a lot you don't see all over the Confederacy. They're just the new examples of what's been around for thousands of years—maybe forever.
A business.
A business that sells things that nobody else does. Things that people say they don't want, but they really do: perversions, gambling outside the official casinos, special loans, even promotions. Fancy jewels, works of art, stuff like that is stolen or bought and a lot of it comes here, to the Diamond. They're everywhere and into everything.
Drugs for bored frontier folk and space-navy people who might be out for a year or more.
Anything you want they can get— anywhere—at a price."

 
"I'm not as naive as you think," I told her. "But go on. This syndicate, then, bred you?"

 
She nodded.
"Bred me—and others."

 
That
was interesting.
"Others?
Many others?"

 
She shrugged. "Who knows? We were raised independently."

 
"Yeah—but why?
For what purpose?"

 
"The Confederacy has an elite force, bred to their jobs. They're called assassins, although they don't often kill. Did you know that?"

 
"I know something about them, yes," I admitted rather evasively.

 
"Well, bow do you think the Four Lords got stuck here?
Or most of the rest of the people, for that matter?
They—
the assassins—got them. The assassins are bred for the job, as I said, so they're almost impossible to corrupt. They love their work, and do nothing else. Their true identities aren't even known to the bureaus that employ them, and any time one is contacted, that contact is brief. After the job is done, all memory of them is wiped from even Security's minds and general records. Their anonymity is the one thing the Four Lords have never broken. Those men and women are the on/y people the high-ranking members of the Brethren, as the organization usually calls itself, are scared of.
The only ones.
Only one has ever been exposed and corrupted—and
h&s
one of the Four Lords!"