Twilight at the Well of Souls

Well World, more than one of them wondered where he kept getting them.

“Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll come to the point right away,” the mystery man said, pointing to the floor. “You Dillians and Marquoz can look down on me. I’m gonna sit.” And, with that, he sat, legs folded under him, on the floor and idly flicked an ash.

“First of all,” he continued as they drew nearer, “we’re meeting here in the Gedemondan embassy simply because it was one that Ortega had never paid much attention to. He bugged it anyway—don’t ask me how—but a couple of good hired techs from Shamozan and I went over and blanked them. I’m satisfied the place is secure, even though the Shammies are with the other side. I had some of our people check it afterward, just to make sure.”

“What’s this all about, Gypsy?” Marquoz pressed. “I always knew there was something funny about you, but I rather expected you’d sit this one out like you always do. You never liked a fight.”

He nodded. “That’s true, but this is different. I really don’t want to explain a lot right now. I’m more effective this way. But you must believe me when I say that I’m in this not only because I can do certain things, like act as a middleman, that others can’t, but also because I have a personal stake in it all. It’d be easy for all of us if you or Brazil could manage some of the things I can, but you can’t and that’s that. And I can’t teach them to you. Wouldn’t if I wanted to. That, too, we’ll let pass for now. Right now, the important thing is that I’m the only messenger who can get behind enemy lines, get to you wherever you are, and also get to Brazil.”

“Brazil!” It was Yua who made the exclamation at the name. She had no translator and her vocal equipment wasn’t right, but they knew what she meant.

Gypsy nodded. “Yes, he got in. As Ortega has figured out, too late. We did it by the simplest con you could think of. We put him through ahead of all of you. He’s been here more than a month.”

“But that’s impossible!” Mavra exclaimed. “He personally flew us to Serachnus for our trip here. He saw us off! Wished us well! You were there—don’t you remember?”

He grinned. “I’m sorry, we had to trick you. The truth is, he wasn’t there. I played both parts. And, yes, I know you saw us both together. It’s a knack, I admit, but a con all the same. Making you see what I want you to see. It’s a trick a lot of Well World races know, as Colonel Asam will agree.”

“I’ve seen it. After all, I’ve just been held in a hypnotic state against my will for several days.” Asam was still grumpy about that.

Gypsy nodded. “It’s a variation of the way I always used to walk into and out of places, guards or no. Not 100 percent, though—I had Obie’s help in creating a solid-looking and solid-seeming me.”

Mavra’s mouth formed a slight oval. “I’m beginning to catch on now. Obie used to have a lot of little tricks up his sleeve. He did a split, didn’t he, when you went into the machine? A simulacrum based on your pattern emerged and we thought it was you. You, on the other hand, he shot someplace else, probably Olympus.”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “Brazil left even before the final staff meetings. I took his place, masquerading as him. Almost made a bad blunder dropping you off on that God-forsaken rock, too. I kept wanting a cigarette—and Brazil smoked cigars.”

“But why not tell us?” Yua asked, feeling a little like she had been considered untrustworthy.

Gypsy sighed. “We didn’t know what kind of reception you’d get here. We didn’t even know if Brazil had made it. But if he had made it—and he did— then you could have been subjected to all sorts of hypnos, mind probes, anything like that. We needed to buy all the time we could, and that meant counting on you to believe Brazil had not yet appeared and to convey that to anybody who asked. It worked.”

“And when you—that other you—stepped into the Well Gate it simply ceased to exist,” Mavra said thoughtfully. It was becoming clear now. Such creatures, not built around a living being, could not be sustained, which was why the Well World had been built in the first place, and why living prototypes were needed for the re- creation. It didn’t explain how Gypsy, looking like Brazil, had gotten here without being killed, nor why he now looked like his old self. She was about to press that point when he short-circuited it.

“Brazil is ready to move,” he told them. “He is well hidden, I assure you, but once he’s on the move he’s fair game—and Ortega and the rest know that. He’s a little impatient where he is—it’s damned uncomfortable, frankly. We have trusted people in position and all is prepared. Now, I provided the diversion that allowed him to get this far. It’s up to you to play the same game the rest of the way.”

He reached inside his vest and pulled out an old and crumpled map. It was a close-up of an area of the Southern hemisphere. They looked down at it while he pointed at one particular hex. “This is Glathriel. The savages there are the prototypes for what I and all of you, except Asam, were before the Well —and I still am. Now, Marquoz, you’ll move first since Hakazit’s to the southwest and you have the easiest way through. It’s not gonna be easy, but except for the Ambrezans, you shouldn’t have a big fight, and they’re not the type to see their neat little world destroyed. You’ll gain allies as you move. Then you go up the isthmus—Ginzin’s the only nasty climate there. We’ll get word that you’re through. Then your force, Mavra, heading due west, intercepts and joins Marquoz and yours, Yua, will prepare the way until the main force catches up to you. You’ll head toward the Verion-Ellerbanta Avenue and get further instructions when you’re in that neighborhood.”

Marquoz looked at him. “I assume we have certain diplomatic contacts with our brothers under the skin? We won’t be in a continuous fight?”

“I doubt it,” Gypsy replied. “Probably none at all until you link except a few stubborn and token pockets. Once you start to move for an Avenue, though, they’ll throw everything they’ve got in the way. It’ll be hairy then, but we’ll have some surprises in store.”

“Still, they’ll pick the time and place,” Asam noted. “They don’t care about us—they want Brazil. Even if Brazil escapes, he’ll be an alien in a totally foreign landscape where everybody’s got a wanted poster with his picture on it.”

“That’s a fair statement,” Gypsy admitted.

“But not the true one,” Mavra said knowingly. “I think I have this figured out. Brazil won’t be there. With everybody chasing us, he’ll be heading somewhere else.”

Gypsy smiled enigmatically. “Could be,” he said agreeably.

“Then you won’t fool Ortega,” she maintained. “He’ll see through it ten minutes after we pull it.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “But we’ll put logical bait in the way, bait he can’t afford to ignore. If, in fact, Brazil is picked up and seen with your forces—specifically, with you, the people in this room —there won’t be any question. Ortega knows how the Well works. He’s seen enough phony Brazils come through recently he’d probably tell the real one here in Zone to go jump in a lake. But that’s before anybody goes through the Well. The system says that only Brazil will still look like Brazil at the other end. Nobody else could—and the medical techniques we used on the Com aren’t known here. Why should they be? No need.”

“How will you manage two Brazils?” Yua wanted to know.

“Watch closely,” Gypsy said with a grin, and closed his eyes. For a moment nothing happened; then, suddenly his body seemed to shimmer and blur, and to shrink slightly. Slowly, ever so slowly, Gypsy became the physical image of Nathan Brazil.

“You never told me you could do that,” Marquoz grumbled. “Hell, it would have saved me a lot of shit.”

The image of Nathan Brazil, now very solid and very real on the floor, gave him a Gypsy grin. “There’s a lot of things I didn’t tell you, old friend.” He looked at each of them. “Well? Think it’ll work?”

Except for Asam, who had never seen Brazil, they all gaped at the figure. It was Brazil, perfectly, exactly, to a hair. Even the voice and inflection were correct.

“It’ll work,” Mavra told him. “You could convince me, and I saw it.” But, deep down, it disturbed her a great deal. Obie hadn’t given him the ability to do this, despite Gypsy’s claims. Obie may have known Gypsy had the ability and planned accordingly, but giving Gypsy the talent would be beyond even Obie. To become somebody else, to appear and disappear at will, one had to go through the dish. There was only one possible explanation.

“Hypnosis will fool a living observer,” she noted, “But never a camera.”

“It’s not hypnosis,” said the Brazil who was not Brazil. “It’s for real. It’ll photograph, even—pleasant thought!—stand an autopsy. I am, cell for cell, the spitting image of Brazil. And as long as you all treat me as if I were Brazil, and as long as I can remember to act Brazil-ish at all times, it’ll work. They’ll come after us like bees