Midnight at the Well of Souls

“But it did open for us, Brazil,” Hain put in.

“Not for you, Hain, or for me, or for Vardia, either,” Brazil told them. “But, within our party, there was one person who had lost all hope, who wanted to die, to escape fate’s lot. The brain, sensitized to such things, picked this up and lured us to Dalgonia with the false emergency signal. We went up to where the shuttles left by Skander and Varnett were still parked, walked out onto the Gate floor, and, when Wu Julee was well within the field, the Gate triggered—sending all of us here.”

“I remember you, now!” Skander exclaimed. “Vardia told me about you while we were imprisoned in The Nation! She told me how the ships seemed to vanish. When I heard all that, I assumed you had engineered the whole thing, that you were a Markovian. The evidence fitted. Besides, it stands to reason that you don’t leave a control group like those on the Well World without someone to monitor the control.”

“The fact that it was the girl and not Brazil who triggered the Gate doesn’t necessarily invalidate your conclusions, Doctor,” came a smooth, husky voice behind them. They turned to see the huge form of Serge Ortega, all five meters of snake and two meters of his thick, six-armed body.

“Serge, I should have known better,” Brazil said good-humoredly.

All six arms of the Ulik shrugged. “I have a pretty good racket here, Nate. I told you I was happy, and I am. I have most of the embassies at both zones bugged, and the conversations recorded. I find out what’s happening, who’s doing what to whom, and if there’s anything of interest to me and my people I act on it.”

Brazil nodded, and would have smiled if the stag body allowed it. “It was no accident that you were the one who met us, was it? You already knew I was there.”

“Of course,” Ortega replied. “Small cameras installed in two or three points around the Well go on whenever someone comes through. If they’re old-human I get there first. Nobody cares much, since the Zone Gate randomly assigns them to other hexes.”

“You didn’t meet me when I came through,” Skander pointed out.

Ortega shrugged again. “Can’t live in the damned office. Bad luck, though, since I then lost sight of you for a long time. These others were already in and assigned before I managed to track Varnett down, although the Umiau are so lousy at secrecy your cover was blown about a month after you came.”

“You’ve been following me since Czill, haven’t you, Serge?” Brazil asked. “How did you manage it?”

“Child’s play,” the Ulik replied. “Czill has a high technological level but no resources, and some problems in handling hot metal anyway. We supply parts for their machines—we and many others—only ours have slight modifications. A resonator for the translator, for example, takes only one almost invisible extra circuit to broadcast—if yow know the right frequency. The range isn’t fantastic, but I knew where you were, and in most instances mutual back-scratching, past IOU’s, and the like were all that was needed. I think I know what you are, Nate, and I think you know you should play the game my way.”

“Or you’ll kill the others?”

The snakeman locked hurt, but it was exaggerated. “Why, Nate! Did I say any such thing? But, regardless, I have Skander, here, and, if all else fails, Varnett. I’d prefer you, Nate. I don’t think you’re any different from the Nathan Brazil I’ve known all these decades. I’m willing to bet that that personality of yours isn’t a phony front or a construct, but the real you, no matter what your parents were. You know me better than anybody, so you know my actions and what I’ll do in any case. Will you lead the party in?”

Brazil looked at his old acquaintance for a moment. “Why everybody, Serge? Why not just you and me?” he asked.

“Ah, come on, Nate! What do you take me for? You know how to get in; I don’t. You know what’s in there—I don’t. With the others I get an expert check on your actions and descriptions, and a little insurance from their own self-interest. The Northerner, here—it’s working for a group so different from any of us I can’t figure out anything about them. Nonetheless, like Hain, here, and the plant, they’re all looking out for their own interests. So are your people, really. Nobody’s going to let anybody else get the upper hand. You’ll all even be armed—armed with pistols that can kill any of you, but can’t kill me. I’ve taken immunity shots from Hain’s stinger, so that’s no threat, and I am so much physically stronger than any of you that I’ll be happy to take you on. Nate knows how quick I can move.”

Brazil sighed. “Always figuring the angles, aren’t you, Serge? So tell me, if this was your game all along, why did we have to fight and walk so far? Why not just get us all together and bring us to this point?”

“I hadn’t the slightest idea where you were going,” replied Ortega honestly. “After all, Skander was still looking, Varnett had given up, and nobody else knew. So I just let the expeditions lead me here. When it became clear where both expeditions were headed, I arranged to slow things down until I could get here ahead of you. Easier than you think—Zone Gate to Ulik, then over. Hell, man, I’ve been to that Equatorial Zone hundreds of times. There’s no way in that anybody’s ever found, and a lot have tried over the years.”

“But we now know that the entrance is at the end of The Avenue,” The Rel said suddenly. “And, from Skander, I perceive that the time of entry is midnight.”

“Right on both counts,” Brazil admitted. “However, that knowledge alone won’t get you in. You need the desire to get to the Well center, specifically, and a basic equation to tell the Well you know what you’re doing.”

“The Varnett relationship,” Skander said. “The open-ended equation of the Markovian brain slides. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” Brazil acknowledged. “After all, it wasn’t supposed to keep any Markovians out. The conditions of this world are such that the relationship is simply indecipherable. It’s only one in a million that the two of you discovered it, and almost one in infinity that you’d get to where you could use it. You could never have used it on Dalgonia since it requires an answer for completion, an addition. It’s sort of ‘What is your wish?’ and you have to give that wish in mathematically correct form. In this case, though, the simple completion is done by the brain if you ask the question—the reverse.”

“But if he is a Markovian, why could he not just contact the brain and save himself all the problems he’s had here?” the Slelcronian asked.

Brazil turned to the plant person, a puzzled tone in his voice. “I thought you were Vardia—but that tone just doesn’t sound like her.”

“Vardia merged with a Slelcronian,” The Rel explained, telling of the flower creatures and their strange ways. “It is possessed of a good deal of wisdom and some fairly efficient mental powers, but your friend is such a tiny part of the whole that the Czillian is essentially dead,” The Rel concluded.

“I see,” Brazil said slowly. “Well, there were too many Vardias here anyway. Ours is the original—back to human, again.” He turned to Serge again. “So are Wuju and Varnett.”

“Varnett?” Skander sat up suddenly, spilling water. “Varnett is with you?”

“Yes, and no tricks, Skander,” Ortega warned. “If you try anything on Varnett I’ll personally attend to you.” He turned back to Brazil. “That goes for you, too, Nate.”

“There will be no problems, Serge,” Brazil assured him tiredly. “I’ll take you all inside the Well, and I will show you what you want—what you all want. I’ll even answer any questions you want, clear up any uncertainties.”

“That suits us,” Ortega responded, but there was a note of caution in his voice.

THE AVENUE—AT THE EQUATOR

The journey up The Avenue had been without event, and none had tested Ortega’s defenses. They were all going where they wanted to go, and, as the Ulik had said, each one had his own selfish interests at heart. All during the journey Brazil had been talkative and friendly, yet there was a sadness deep within him they could all feel, although he tried to laugh it off. The four members of Brazil’s party kept to themselves. Hain kept looking at Wuju strangely, but bided her time, and Skander seemed resigned to Varnett’s existence in the party.

And now, in the afternoon’s waning sun, they stood at the Equatorial Barrier itself, imposing and seemingly impenetrable.

It was like a wall, partially translucent, that rose up until it merged with the deep blue, cloudless sky. The