Echoes of the Well of Souls (30 page)

It wasn't designed to do that, either. Some stuff one had to learn.

More interesting was what he
wasn't
able to communicate to her. Some simple things, like "others" versus "alone," as in "Did you come with others or alone?" he could not seem to put over. She, too, tried a few times to communicate, but her attempts seemed random and confused. It wasn't an entirely new phenomenon to him; some of the other races of the Well World, most in the North but even a few in the South, simply did not fully follow the logical thought patterns that he and most of the southern races adhered to in one degree or another. A nonverbal society
might
develop along the same logic paths, and certainly in the case of the same race with the same brain structure, but even on Earth there were societies that saw things too differently to ever fully understand one another. This was a step further. In some ways it was like the card games at which he excelled. At one time, eons ago, he'd learned the basics of those games and played them so often that now he rarely thought about how or what to play and when; a part of his brain that he couldn't even consciously touch, let alone access deliberately, processed all the information according to experience, and he simply played automatically—and won. Writers, painters, other creators had the same experience; they didn't know where the words or visions had come from—they just were there and came from some unapproachable recess of the mind that they neither understood nor consciously used but that nonetheless they simply took for granted and used.

None of them could ever explain the process. "God-given talent" was an oft-quoted phrase for it, but talent came from somewhere, and it was called up from a mystery region of consciousness in a manner they could neither comprehend nor control.

Could a whole race operate
entirely
on that sort of processing? Could an entire culture somehow evolve that required no front-brained verbalizations? How could it work? Where was the shared experience, the teaching, the communication that would give such a people the tools with which to work? And to what end? To some animallike equilibrium in which survival was enough?

It was a real puzzle, and he didn't know the answer. There was only one place where he could get those answers, he knew, and that place was a long and hard journey from here.

He could help this girl there, too. Get her out of the trap she'd fallen into.

It never occurred to him to take her along, though. If she was so bound by the Glathrielian way, she'd never survive the trip, and she'd be more in the way than useful, anyway. Still, he wanted to try to tell her, to get through to her, that he
could
help her—and would.

That, however, proved impossible to get over.

After a while fatigue and frustration overcame him, and he managed to get her to understand that he had to sleep. She nodded but continued to sit as he went into the tent, zipped it shut, and, after a much longer time than he thought it would take, managed to get to sleep.

In the morning she was still there.

He wasn't actually fooled into thinking that she'd sat there all night, but she and the others he hadn't seen might think he was. Certainly there had been a lot of traffic through his camp during the night, all without disturbing him. The signs were quite clear that nothing short of a mob scene had occurred, yet none of his equipment had been touched, not even the now-cold cup of coffee still sitting there in the grass.

Well, regardless of the games they might think they were playing, he'd wasted a couple of days coming here, and he'd probably waste another two or more getting back to anyplace useful. At least now it was time to move on, time to actually
do
something other than sit. He'd appreciated
the rest, but he was out of place both here and in Ambreza, and he now had a better reason to enter the Well than he'd had before.

After he had packed his gear, she got up, beckoned him, and started off back toward Ambreza with a surefootedness and confidence he certainly didn't feel. He did not argue, however—what good would that have done, anyway? And hell, maybe she knew a shortcut.

The paths she took were shorter, although it was still better than seven hours walking, not counting the breaks, until he once again saw the border. She stood there, letting him pass through, and then passed through herself. Now
she
was following
him,
but she seemed determined to stick with him.

He stopped, turned, looked her in the eye, and shook his head "no," but she had no reaction to that, although she must have understood it and continued to follow him.

Well, as much as he'd have
liked
to take her along, it was impossible. What would she eat? How could she withstand the climatic extremes of the journey in the nude? What would happen when he got on a truck or some other automatic device her people wouldn't touch?

Still, she followed him right up to the farm buildings and waited while he knocked.

The old Ambrezan male was there, apparently doing accounts. He stared out at the girl in the front yard and gave a typical Ambrezan
"Chi chi chi!"
which was basically an expression of thoughtfulness. "So she's the one you went in to get?"

"No, she's another. Somebody totally different."

"Yeah, I figured if you come back, it'd be empty-handed. I no sooner got back to the house than the wife called for me to go after you. Seems another female much like you showed up in the capital just about that time."

Brazil was delighted at the news. "Did they give a name?"

"Dunno. Got the note here someplace."

"Well, more important, is she still there?"

"Maybe, but I got the impression she was there to go to Zone. The gate's right in the city center, you know. Wanted to find out about her friends, I think they said.
Chi chi chi!
Now where in—ah! Here!"

"You'll have to read it for me," Brazil told him. "I'm all right with the translator at languages, but reading is something else again."

"Oh. All right. Let's see . . . 'Female Type 41 arrested near the city border at ten-fourteen this morning for being illegally out of a Glathrielian-allowed district. Proved to be alien of same origin as you. Received clothing, passage to Zone tomorrow for locating rest of her party."

"Hmmm . . . Wonder if she's still in Zone or the city? She'd have to come back there through the gate, anyway. May I use your communicator and call in and see?"

"Sure. No problem. What about the female there?"

"She'll wait." He went inside and placed a call to the comm center.

"Yes, her name was registered as a Mavra Chang," the comm tech informed him. "Went down to Zone yesterday, returned in the evening. Got provisions and left this morning. The law prevents any Type 41 from being in the city for more than two days, anyway."

"That's the one. How did she leave? And where did they take her?"

"She left by air shuttle. She was going south to the border with Erdom. I assume one of her party is down there someplace or she's going to try and make a boat connection of some sort. At any rate, she said she would probably not be back unless she needed to use a Zone gate as an escape route."

"Damn!" Brazil swore. "No chance I could get an airdrop to the same spot?"

"Maybe in a couple of days or so. Not right now. We don't run those for the convenience of aliens, you know."

The Ambreza had a small air fleet, operating, as it had to, totally within the hex, that basically consisted of a few dozen helicopterlike vehicles which were used for emergencies and for big shots to move around. How she'd talked herself into a ride down there was a mystery, but that she'd been able to do so sounded like the old Mavra.

"Was she informed that I was here and looking for her?"

There was an embarrassed silence for a moment, then the comm tech answered, "Yes, she was informed."

"And?"

"She said that she'd have to move fast or you might catch up to her."

He sighed. "All right. Thank you," and signed off.

The old Ambrezan chuckled. "Ain't it always the damnedest thing, son?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, you come up here lookin' for her, and she's down there and she don't even want to see you. On the other hand, you pick up
another
one you didn't know, didn't want, and can't seem to get rid of!"

He nodded and sighed again. "Sure is. Well, thanks for your help. Any way to get some transportation out of this region?"

"Might be able to help. Dunno what your girl out there's gonna do, though. They don't like machines, you know. They don't like much of
anything
'cept maybe each other. Where you goin'? South to Erdom? That's pretty mean country even if you know it. All desert 'cept right along the coast."

"No, I don't think so. In fact, while I'll probably get in touch with the embassy just to see where
she
might be going, it's not worth chasing her at this point, particularly if she has some reason for avoiding me. I think I'm best off heading east from here. Catch a ship and get on my way. I, too, have some people I promised to look up far from here."

"Well, it's up to you, son. I'll see what I can do about a call in to the foreign ministry, and then we'll see about gettin' you a ride east. From this distance it might do you best to go overland by horse rather than go through all that convoluted bunch of roads that'll take you three hundred kilometers to go fifty."

He gave a small smile. "And I suppose you might have a horse for sale."

"Could be. Ain't got no saddles that'd fit you, though."

"I can make do with a blanket and a bridle," he assured the Ambrezan. "Let's go see what you have."

They went out and walked back beyond the outbuildings to a large open pasture between the headquarters and the parklike glade where Terry had entered the Well World. Quite a number of good-looking horses were there, and he looked them over.

He picked a strong-looking brown gelding after surveying the herd. "How much?"

"Oh, I reckon a hundred and fifty'll do it."

"A hundred and fifty! I'll
walk
before I'll pay a hundred and fifty for a gelding to get me fifty kilometers!"

"No, no, son. I ain't tryin' to cheat you. That's for the
two
of them."

Nathan Brazil looked around and saw the girl, now mounted atop a horse without blanket, bridle, or anything else but looking very much at home there. She smiled at him.

He felt like a cross between a sucker and merely a damned fool, but he paid anyway. Hell, otherwise he wouldn't have put it past her to just steal the damned horse or, worse, try to run along after him. At least he could get most of the money back at the port when he sold the two horses.

AT FIRST THERE HAD BEEN THE DIZZYING SENSATION OF FALLING
nearly identical to that first hex gate that had brought them all to this strange new world, but then the sensation had abruptly ceased and she had fallen into the deepest sleep she had ever known.

Doctor Lori Ann Sutton awoke feeling groggy, hung over, and a little sick to the stomach, lying on what felt like a bed of warm sand.

She opened her eyes and looked around and saw that it
was
a bed of warm sand. At least it was sand, and there was an awful lot of it under a mean hot sun that was still low on the horizon. Or was it going down? Who could tell?

She sat up, scratched where the sand had pressed against her side, and immediately felt a terrible sense of wrongness. The whole scene—sand, sky, sun—had all the colors she expected, but there seemed to be even more. She could actually
see
the heat, and there were darker areas as well.

I'm seeing into the infrared spectrum!
she thought won-deringly. And maybe beyond. Maybe, just maybe, in
both
directions. The
entire
spectrum?

Suddenly she remembered everything. The gate, the lecture by the polka-dotted dragon, Alama's-—no, Mavra's words—and something about becoming some different creature.

She looked down at herself and saw that she was a very different creature, indeed. Her arms were long but very thin and ended in a huge pair of hands that were not human. They had only three fingers, long and thick, and an oppos-able thumb almost as long as the index finger and thicker than any of the others. The nails were huge and thick as well and seemed to run from halfway past the knuckle to beyond the tip. Put together in a relaxed way, they formed almost, well, a kind of supple, softer
hoof,
the palms fairly hard and thick and a pale brownish color.

Her feet were the same, only the hoof was cloven and seemed oddly shaped on the bottom, something like a horse's hoof crossed with the foot of a camel.

She was covered in a thick, hidelike skin that was itself almost covered by very short, thick, pastel beige hair that flared out at the ankles and wrists. But that wasn't the worst of it or the biggest shock.

Between her legs, emerging from a mass of thick, medium-brown pubic hair, was the
biggest
set of male gen-italia she had ever seen, very dark brown in color and with a leatherlike texture.

She touched it and gave a slight gasp and then just stared down at it for quite some time.

My God! I'm a man!
she thought, getting a queasy feeling in her stomach echoed by a strange but not altogether pleasant sensation in the genitals.

It was an oddball fantasy come to life, one she had played with in the past, mostly out of the frustration of having to compete at the top levels of her profession with men and wanting the same power and position they took for granted. But it was only a fantasy, not a serious wish. The reality of the change shook her.

And after all that time with the all-female tribe of the People, she felt an odd sense of aversion.
I'm going to miss my breasts!
she thought, trying to get a handle on things.

Finally she managed to overcome the tremendous shock to consider the next question. She was male. But a male
what!
What was beige and hairy and had big hooves and arms apparently evolved from a set of more equinelike forelegs?

The body was
very
slender and surprisingly supple. The body was a nearly perfect blend of equine and human, strange, yet somehow she thought of the term "erotic" to cover it.
Hah! If only Jeff could see me now, with
this
body and
this
big a sausage!
Of course, he wouldn't exactly be turned on by the idea, but it would be awfully nice to use these hard hands to slug him.

God! I'm a guy for all of three minutes and already I'm thinking like one!
she admonished herself.

The fact was, mentally, where it counted, she was still the same person. Nothing had been changed that she could tell, no knowledge or memories lost, no feelings all that different. But it was as if her mind were now in another's body, someone whose differences went beyond just gender—
way
beyond.

While there seemed very little sensation in the rather large feet, the palms proved to have a lot of nerve sensors, and she could get a surprisingly good "feel," as good as or better than her old hands.
I'll
never touch-type again, though,
she thought inanely. Not with two fewer fingers, even though the size of the hands and the length of the fingers gave her, if anything, more control.

She still thought of herself as a "she," and she knew that she probably would have to make a major mental adjustment on that score. Nobody in this new place would know that she'd been a woman most of her life; they'd see her in this man's body instead.

She felt her face. It
seemed
human enough—mouth, even with what seemed to be thicker lips and maybe a longer, slightly thicker tongue, but her jaw moved side to side as well as up and down, and the teeth indicated that whatever these people were, they were omnivores, not herbivores as she would have expected. The canines, in fact, seemed a bit larger and sharper than they used to be—and no caps, no missing back tooth!

She had always been farsighted, which was the reason she had been able to survive among the People without her glasses, but vision now seemed perfect, with every little hair easy to pick out even very close up. She couldn't remember when she'd seen this clearly at all distances.

Nose . . . Well, human, sort of, but there was something odd
inside
the nostrils, controlled by voluntary muscles. She flexed them and suddenly found her breathing cut off. She relaxed them again very quickly. Protection against blowing sand, perhaps? The eyes felt a little funny, too. She concentrated and found that she had double eyelids that could be independently controlled if she concentrated or would operate as one if she didn't. The outer lids were essentially what she thought of as "normal"; the inner ones, however, were transparent. They distorted her vision and in fact seemed to filter color so that the world became a study in contrasting grays, but she could see through them.

The ears were definitely
not
"normal." They went more back than up and were protected by large pointed lobes, more like a horse's ears or some similar animal's. They could, she discovered, be somewhat rotated, raised, or lowered, even independently of one another. There was a shock of bushy hair atop the head, but it didn't seem to grow long down the back. With some trepidation she pulled one and looked at it. It appeared nearly snow white in color and very long and thick.

Lori had a sudden thought and reached around to her behind. There appeared to be a bit of excess hair at the base of the spine but not the tail she almost expected to find. In a way it was kind of disappointing. She'd always wondered what it would feel like to have a tail.

She looked around, trying to figure out how to get up. Equinelike or not, this wasn't the body of a four-footed animal, no matter what its ancestors might have been like. It wasn't as easy as getting up in a human body, it seemed, but she figured it out with a little experimentation. She turned over and used the hands as forefeet and then pushed off, letting her back muscles lift her upright. The true feet were clearly designed for sand; she found no problems with footing at all.

She looked around, wondering where the hell she might go. In doing so, she saw her shadow, and it made an amazing vision to her eyes even though, with the sun not so high, it was distorted and lengthened. Curiously, though, it was only by seeing that shadow that she noticed the horn.

Her hand went up to the top of her head and found it easily, almost centered up there. A twisting, rock-hard spiral going up, not quite straight, to a very wicked point. Although it was hard and almost half a meter long, she had no sensation of it being there at all, not even weight or balance on the head.

A male bipedal unicorn?
she wondered to herself.
Why would any evolving race keep a horn like that?

For now she could only guess. A weapon perhaps, considering the thinness and fragility of the arms? Or . . . She had an awful thought it might be used in some way involving mating no matter how conventional it seemed.

All right, Lori, you know the basics about what they've stuck you with; now what?

Again she scanned the horizon, and this time a curious effect happened. When she concentrated on any far point, it was as if her vision suddenly became telescopic. She could bring her view of the horizon closer,
much
closer, seeing detail at very great distances indeed. Although there was about a half second's disorientation when she switched her focus to something more close up, the effect was the neatest thing about this body she'd discovered.

But what good was it to be able to zero in on the distant horizon if there was nothing but sand to be seen?

"Get to a zone gate and tell me where and what you are,"
Mavra had said, but how could she do that when there seemed nowhere to go to get
anywhere
!

Lori continued the horizon pan, stopping and magnifying, trying to see
anything.
What good was all this if she was going to be stuck, alone and without food or water, in this desert?

She suddenly stopped and zeroed in on a tiny black speck far, far away. She would never even have noticed it without this perfect vision, and she would certainly have never been able to tell that it was more than a dune shadow without the remarkable telescopic abilities. Even with them it was barely discernible, but it seemed to be a dark area of some kind protruding from the desert floor. Rocks? It didn't seem likely.

Trees! An oasis!

The sun was definitely climbing, and the day was heating up fast. Now was the time to make for any possible haven, and second-guessing was a luxury that she could not afford.

She started off toward the black dot and began to improve on her walking and balancing abilities with almost every step. She did not walk with those feet; she sort of trotted or even galloped, kicking up sand but making very good speed. She also learned rather quickly and a bit painfully that when moving fast, she had to lean a bit forward and keep the hips wide, otherwise that
thing
down there flapping away would get crunched between the upper calves.

It was getting progressively hotter, and she could actually
see
the heat both as it came down upon her and as it was first trapped and then radiated back by her body. She wondered just how hot to the touch she was right now.

She began to have trouble seeing. The heat radiation was coloring everything and distorting her sight. It suddenly occurred to her that there was more than one use for those inner lids, and she closed them. Virtually all colors snapped out and the world became a mass of infinite grays, yet the black dots that hadn't seemed to grow any closer no matter what speed she was making now began to resolve themselves a bit more clearly and did in fact seem to be getting ever so slightly larger.

It
was
an oasis! That might not mean people, but those were clearly trees of some kind, and trees needed water.

Or at least she
hoped
that trees here needed water.

She would have expected to become winded after a while and have to rest, particularly in the growing heat, but she found that running across the sands like this gave her a real rush; her chest apparently contained mostly lung, and it went in and out with each giant breath she took. But the rhythm of the breathing and the running was very easy to slip into, and even though it seemed like she'd been running for hours across many, many kilometers, she didn't feel the least bit tired or winded.

She was definitely hungry and thirsty, though, which only gave her more impetus to reach her goal as quickly as physically possible.

Soon the oasis loomed before her, filling much of her vision, and it was enough of a dark mass that she lifted the inner lids to get the full detail.

The trees weren't like any she'd ever seen before, but they had a tropical look, with thin and supple trunks rising to layers of oversized palm- or fernlike leaves.

She ran right through the first row and found the area larger than she had expected and the ground inside harder with much exposed white-veined gray rock that produced a "clopping" sound when her feet hit it. She slowed but found that she needed to go up to a tree and put a hand out to fully stop herself without falling over.

It was almost a letdown to stop running, but her chest continued to heave and she continued to gulp in air at the same rhythm until her breathing slowed to a more normal rate.

She looked around, and her ears automatically rotated about a hundred degrees on either side, checking for sounds. There wasn't much except the rustling of some leaves in the highest part of the trees, apparently in reaction to a slight breeze that didn't reach the ground.