Twilight at the Well of Souls

don’t understand how we got here. From goin’ to sleep dead tired back in that cabin I don’t remember nothin’ until we come outta the Zone Gate. Damn it, that wasn’t fair, Mavra!”

She shrugged. “What could I do? They control you, not the other way around. To be truthful, until we were at their gate I don’t remember very much, either. Sort of a hazy, dreamy thing. They have some really remarkable mental powers, Asam. I know we were both pumped for information, but I remember talking with one of them.”

He grumbled a bit under his breath and sighed. “So you didn’t get anything firm, huh? That’s why we’re here at this abandoned embassy?”

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t the Gedemon-dans. Somebody else called a meeting and they knew about it—how I don’t know. Somebody picked this one because they knew it was empty.”

He looked around glumly. “Don’t look like the party’s started as yet.”

“Then we wait,” she responded. She went over to him, put an arm around his humanoid waist, and squeezed. “There are some very pleasant ways to kill time, you know, and this is a big empty place.”

He looked surprised, but pleased.

Marquoz had very little trouble getting through the mob despite his enormous size. With his red eyes glowing in a demonic skull atop massive muscles, vicious talons, and a spiked armored tail, people fell all over themselves getting out of his way, even the Well World guards who were herding the people through.

He relished the feeling of power it gave him; the Hakazit were large and formidable indeed. Before, humans had considered him cute or exotic, like an unusual pet, and he had had to breathe fire to get his way with them. Now they were literally terrified of him, and he loved it.

The door opened when he reached it—a nice touch, he reflected—and he walked into the bare office.

“Oops! Excuse me!” he muttered and stopped dead. “Looks like I’m interrupting something.”

The two Dillians stopped and turned, startled but not looking in the least embarrassed.

The female relaxed, flexed her body and shook her head a bit to get herself back together, then turned and stared at him.

Marquoz, deciding there was little else to do, stared back. Finally he said, “I could go for a good cigar about now.”

“So could I,” agreed Asam, “but for different reasons. I’m afraid I lost mine back in Gedemondas somewhere.”

“You think you got problems,” the Hakazit grumbled. “The way this damned body’s built I can’t really suck in any more. Suffer.”

The attitude and tone fascinated her with its familiarity. “Marquoz?” she ventured. “Is it really you, Marquoz?”

“At your service, my lady,” he responded, bending a knee a little.

“It’s Mavra, Marquoz. Mavra Chang.”

He chuckled. “Well, well, well. You haven’t changed much since I saw you last. Changed color, but that’s about it.”

Asam looked at her in amazement. “You were a Dillian, before?”

“For a while,” she told him. “Not naturally. Long story.” She turned back to Marquoz. “This is Asam. A native—on our side.”

“On your side, anyway, not to mention back,” the Hakazit responded. “Well, at least I feel like I got the right message. Who issued the invitations?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she told him. “I got mine delivered secondhand by the Gedemondans. You?”

“Messenger. Dropped it off at the embassy for transmission back home. They didn’t indicate much else except the ambassador said it was a Type 41 who delivered it. I figured that was Brazil.”

“Could be. I hope so,” she said without much feeling.

“I have to say you look very well for somebody who’s dead, though,” the Hakazit remarked.

Both the centaurs’ heads snapped up. “What?”

“I mean it,” he told them. “Reports all over a patrol of some little nasties jumped you and cut you up into little pieces.”

“They tried,” Asam responded. “It’ll take more than that to finish either one of us, though.”

“I can believe it,” Maiquoz said approvingly. “Well, that’s a load off my mind anyway.”

“Wait a minute, Marquoz, how’d you get that report? And since when would an ambassador deliver personal messages to you?” Mavra asked.

The huge gray war machine shrugged slightly. “They’re scared to death of the Hakazit secret police—and I’m the head of it. They only thought they had a secret police until I took over. My trips to some of those Com worlds were not in vain. Hell, I’m the first SP chief with guts enough to go out in public.”

She shook her head in wonder and muttered, almost under her breath, “I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to ask.”

“That explains why we can talk,” Asam chipped in, rescuing her. “You have a translator.”

He nodded. “First thing I had done after assuming control. I gather Mavra doesn’t?” When you had one of the little crystalline devices produced by a north-ern hex implanted surgically inside you, it was sometimes hard to tell that others didn’t unless you looked closely and listened even better.

She nodded. “I’m going to need one, though. And soon.”

“Have it done in Dillia.” he cautioned “These things should be put in by people who know your native brain and nervous system. Tell ’em to charge it to the government of Hakazit.”

Asam laughed. “I’ll arrange for it. I was gonna pay for it myself, but thanks for savin’ me the money ” As the supply was drastically limited, the devices cost more than most except high officials could ever afford, and the operations even more.

Marquoz shrugged. “Always glad to spend anybody’s money but my own.” He sounded like ne meant it.

They were about to continue when the door slid open again and in walked a strange, small gray-furred creature The newcomer stopped at the sight of Marquoz and looked around uncertainly.

“Give us your name and we’ll tell you if you’re in the right place,” Mavra told it.

The creature stood up, revealing massive folds of skin connecting all its limbs, and rested slightly on its fanned tail. Its rodentlike face looked uncertainly at them and it chattered something that sounded like clucking and clicking far back in the throat to Mavra.

The other two seemed to understand immediately, and Marquoz responded with, “Well, well, well… Welcome to the club, Yua.”

“No translator, either,” Mavra pointed out to the other two.

Marquoz just sighed and said, “Another drain on the Hakazit treasury, then. Oh, well, it’s going to complicate any kind of summit meeting, though.”

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” said a voice behind them. They started and turned. There, in a corner of the room with no entrance or exit and which they all could have sworn had been vacant, stood…

“Gypsy!” Marquoz bellowed, and moved toward him.

Gypsy put up his hands. “Easy, Marquoz! You could break my back just saying hello!”

The great battle lizard roared with laughter but hesitated to come closer. Finally he said, “I kind of thought you hadn’t made the trip. You didn’t show up at the other end.”

Gypsy shrugged. “I’m here, and that’s all that counts. And I called this meeting, along with a lot of other meetings.” He paused, seeing their surprise. “You didn’t think you were it, did you? Lots of stuff to get under way. But you’re all vital, particularly now that you’ve survived your initial entry and gotten established.” He grinned at Marquoz. “You most of all. One of these days you’re going to have to explain to me how you did it. Not now, though,” he added hastily, seeing that Marquoz was just itching to tell them all.

“You’ve changed as much as we,” Mavra noted. “Oh, you look the same while we don’t, but your whole manner, your attitude has changed. Even your speech has cleared up. I assume that’s Com speech you’re using?”

He nodded, then took out and lit a cigarette. Since that particular variation of tobacco was unknown on the