Twilight at the Well of Souls

“Wouldn’t work,” he replied. “Oh, Obie could make a construct that looked like Gypsy, but not one that would hold up among friends and associates for any length of time. No, I suspect that when you saw Gypsy you were seeing what Gypsy wanted you to see and hear. I think he has that much power. And when he reached the Markovian planet he had enough reserve force from its own computer brain to maintain the illusion even after he left.”

“You’re supposed to be a Markovian,” Asam noted. “Couldn’t you spot another one? If there’s one, why not two?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s the answer. It’s possible, but highly unlikely. Somehow I have the gut feeling that the answer to Gypsy’s mystery is right in front of us, simple, logical, obvious, but we can’t see it. It really doesn’t matter, except that it’ll drive me crazy someday. The fact is that he can do what he can do and Obie used that.”

Marquoz looked at the small man strangely. “If Gypsy can do those things, why can’t you?”

“Because I’m not a Markovian and I don’t have the slightest idea how the system works,” he replied quickly. “That doesn’t mean I can’t fix the problem— I know which buttons to push, so to speak. Except for that I’m really not much different from either of you. I can’t see the Markovian energy, can’t feel anything special, nor can I use the power. I have power only inside the machine—and, even there, I’m the computer operator, not a designer. There’s a big difference.”

“Sounds like you’re runnin’ yourself down, son,” Asam commented. “A whole lot of people have fought and died for you.”

“Or something,” he responded glumly. “No, there’s nothing particularly special about me, Asam. I couldn’t even accept responsibility in Mavra’s case. I palmed off this inconvenient child on others. She’s really got a case against me, I guess.”

“Not feelin’ a little guilt on that, are you?” the centaur prodded.

Brazil chuckled. “No, Asam, not really. The truth is, if I let guilt get to me, I’d be truly insane. Maybe I am, anyway, but I just can’t feel much anymore. I have simply been alive too long. Much too long.”

“Bitter?” Marquoz asked him.

“Not bitter. Just tired. Very, very tired, Marquoz. You can’t believe what it’s like to live day after day, year after year, century after century, for uncounted centuries. I’m a foolish, foolish man, Marquoz. I did this to myself. I chose it, freely, without turning a hair or doubting a second. But nobody, nobody can imagine how horribly lonely it is. Lonely and dull. Races don’t mature overnight; they do it over thousands of years. And you wait, and you watch everybody you cared about grow old and turn to dust, and mankind goes forward maybe a millimeter or less every century or two. Finally you decide you want out, decide you can’t take it any more—and you can’t get out. You’re trapped, absolutely.”

“Gypsy told us you might kill yourself once you fixed the Well,” Asam said uneasily. “Sounds like he wasn’t far off the mark.”

Brazil smiled bitterly. “It all depends, Asam. That’s the only place I can do it, but I can’t unless there’s somebody to take over the watch, assume the responsibility.”

The Dillian suddenly reached down and gripped Brazil tightly in iron fists. “Not Mavra! You won’t do that to Mavra!” he growled.

Brazil reached up and peeled the angry centaur’s hands from his shoulder. “I won’t do that to anyone, Asam,” he said gently. “I couldn’t do it. All I can do is offer choices. That’s all anybody in this life gets— choices. I’m the only one in the whole damned universe with no choices, really, at all.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, so Marquoz brought him back to the original subject. “Well, so what’s the plot of this crazy business?”

Brazil looked up at Asam and rubbed his shoulder a little. “Look, Colonel, got one of your cigars? I’ve been going crazy with these damned cheap bastard cigarettes trying to convince you I was Gypsy.”

Asam went over to his pack, rummaged around, found two, threw one to him and stuck the other in his mouth. Marquoz watched them light up mournfully, wanting nothing more than to join them and no longer having the suction in his mouth to manage it.

“I’ll just sniff yours,” he moped.

Settled down again, Brazil continued the story, explaining things up to this point. “Now, two nights hence, Gypsy’s going to deliberately expose himself as me,” he told them. “That’ll lead them to the correct conclusion that the one they know about is the real one. And I’ll still be here—sort of.”

Marquoz nodded. “I think I see. Gypsy will use those powers of his to come here instantly. Brazil will make his usual appearances—only you’ll be gone. They’ll think they have the correct one and they’ll move in for the kill.”

He nodded. “And I’ll have a day’s head start. I plan to leave tomorrow night. A few of those Agitarian Entries we picked up a few days ago aren’t what they seem. They’re Nautilus crew and they’ve got a couple of those pegasus—pegasi? Eh, who cares? Anyway, I’m about the same size as one of them and they can carry double, anyway. We’ll form half the team. A couple of Eflik will take Mavra with us on a conveyance designed for that purpose. Don’t look alarmed, Asam, we tried it and it’s perfectly safe and the Eflik are more than able to handle the weight if we don’t fly more than a couple of hours at a time.”

“It’s not that I’m thinkin’ of,” the centaur said darkly.

Brazil sighed. “I told you I wouldn’t force anything on anybody. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to do a damned thing. It’s up to Mavra all the way. It’s her show, really.”

“She’d better change the act, then,” said a voice behind them. They all whirled around, startled.

Standing there, looking very much his old self, was Gypsy.

“They caught me before I was ready,” the newcomer said disgustedly. “Nothing I could do. They were going to drug me.”

“Oh, shit,” Brazil muttered. “Well, I guess we go now, then. It might still work.”

“Why shouldn’t it?” Marquoz wanted to know. “So you have to go an extra few hours’ flight. That shouldn’t be more than an inconvenience.”

“It’ll be tough on the Eflik,” Brazil replied, “but a little more risky for us. We’ll have to fly by night, hide by day. Verion will be impossible to cross for the next few days—it’s some kind of rutting season there and those worms glow like electric lights. We’ll be spotted, and what can be spotted can be reported and maybe shot down. That’ll mean a southern route—and Yua’s Awbrians aren’t far enough along yet to have drawn Khatir’s forces away from the Avenue or even provide a good diversion.”

“I’ve helped with that,” Gypsy told him. “I stopped off and dropped in on Yua to explain the situation. She’s proceeding with all speed. It’s riskier than it would be night after next, but the odds are still pretty much with us. I say we go.”

Brazil nodded, looking over at Asam. “Get Mavra, will you?”

For a moment the Dillian hesitated, thinking, perhaps, that if she didn’t go there was no further threat.

“Not thinking of changing sides now, are you, Asam?” Marquoz prodded the centaur. “If you did, you’d lose her anyway.”

The Colonel sighed and went out to find Mavra.

Brazil turned to Gypsy. “You old son of a bitch, you’re going to have to explain yourself to me before this is over.”

Gypsy grinned. “Maybe. Before it’s over,” he said playfully. “Hey, Marquoz, about time we got together for this! We’re a team again this time!”

“Could be,” the Hakazit responded thoughtfully. “Could be…”

Brazil shifted uncomfortably. “Wonder what’s keeping Asam? Damn it, we’ve got to get a lot of stuff together before we go, and we have to go as quietly as possible. Gypsy, can you cover for us?”

He nodded. “For a little while, which is all we need. It’s a big army, a big, long line. I think I can put in the required Brazil appearances with no trouble and maybe occasionally become Mavra if the question comes up.”

“Okay, then. Damn! What’s wrong out there? Is Mavra so mad at me she won’t even come back? Or did Asam…?” He let the thought trail off.

Suddenly they were all on their feet, nervous and anxious. Brazil looked at Gypsy. “Give yourself some