Ghost of the Well of Souls

ingeniously designed portable kitchen including refrigerated and frozen foods, cold drinks, and everything else they needed. It was clear from the way the two tiny women handled things that their strength was not an illusion; Jaysu tried to move the portable kitchen unit just a fraction and found that it might as well have been lead.

There was quite a difference in what they ate and what she consumed, though, and she found that she had to excuse herself and eat alone, out of sight not only of the Alkazarians, but of the two Pyron as well.

Since reaching the consulate, she’d not seen any of the Pyrons eat or drink, but she saw what they ate this night, how they did it, and it was not something she was comfortable watching. Her food and drink, however, were fine; apparently, the consulate had made contact ahead using what magic these high-tech hexes could manage, and made sure that she was well provided for.

They’d done it for themselves as well, and she’d seen the two Pyrons eat one large furry animal each. They ate them whole, and, worst of all, they ate them alive. The Alkazarians ate meat, and cooked rarely, but it was properly butchered and prepared meat, such as she’d seen others eat on the ship and at Zone. But the Pyrons— the idea of eating something alive, screaming in terror, was…

O’Leary managed to figure out the problem and sought her out after they’d finished. “Sorry. I forget myself sometimes,” he told her sincerely. “Even before I came here, I was someone who lived among different races as well as my own, and I’m just used to things being different. I should have realized.”

“No, no, it is all right,” she assured him, by which she meant it was all right because she understood that this was the way they did it, that it was normal, and that the problem wasn’t really with them but with her. But it wasn’t all right in her gut.

“Before we come across any other things that might be a problem for you, I’ll try and warn you,” he promised. “I’ve got to kick my brain back in gear and think like an alien visitor again. It was careless. At least you will only have to be near us when we eat one more time, probably at the border.”

“Huh? What?” She was wondering if it was still somehow alive, trapped, wriggling inside him, unable to get out. It was silly; she’d feel it if it were. Still, she couldn’t get that absolute terror out of her mind and soul.

“We don’t eat or drink very often, which is why we eat like we do,” he explained. “We will be able to go long and far on just this. And, I promise, you won’t have to see it again.”

“It—It wasn’t seeing it that was the problem,” she told him. “It was being almost overwhelmed by the fear exuded by its soul.”

“By its—pardon?”

“Everything has a soul. Everything alive, that is. I can see those souls, feel them. I can not shut it out. It is not my purpose to shut it out.”

He realized the situation. “You’re an empath! Well, I’ll be… Well, remind me not to lie to you, I guess. But remember our talk today about good and evil?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to shield you from too much, not now, not later on. I want you to feel that fear and see those disgusting sights. That is because we are potentially facing evil so strong that you will need to prepare for it. But I will try and warn you. You should not be unprepared. Think you can sleep?”

She sighed. “Yes, I guess so.”

“Well, perhaps you should do so. We’re going to pack up and leave not long after dawn, and we’ve got some rougher riding ahead, or so I’m told. I confess I’m kind of curious, too. We’re the only non-Alkazarians here. The way they stare at us, we may be the only ones they’ve seen for a long time. I wonder how many alien types have ever seen firsthand what’s on top of those mountains and beyond?”

“A hundred more credential checks,” she answered, trying to break the mood. There was not any way around it. He was right. She should get to sleep and try not to dream about it.

She needed to dream of Ambora, and flying above it effortlessly, darting through the clouds…

The next morning, bright and early, they were as good as their word, waking everyone at dawn and then fixing a breakfast for Jaysu and the three guides, or whatever they were. Although most bears were omnivores, even on the Well World, the Alkazarians seemed to be strictly carnivorous, although they did enjoy a lot of thick almost black ale and some sort of candied sweets. Breakfast for them was sausages of some sort and very large eggs, which they ate in a variety of ways, including raw.

Others, going in both directions and perhaps to places they didn’t know about, were there as well, but they seemed to be transporting natives wearing different colored uniforms, not paying customers. It appeared that, outside the cosmopolitan cities, everybody wore a uniform that instantly told everyone else their general occupation, and with that, their social and economic class as well. Since leaving Zadar Station, they’d seen no exceptions to this rule.

They packed up and, after the obligatory check of all papers and the quizzing of all members of the group —natives and non-natives alike—were off once more.

The jungle was so thick now that even the sun hardly got through. It was impossible to see almost anything, even the mountains they knew were in the distance.

For a brief period rains came, heavy and relentless. The two females quickly punched up an awning, and the storm hit the jungle canopy and created a lot of sound and fury, and much high-level fog and mist. The torrent, broken by the thick growth, gushed down the trunks of trees and through channels in the branches. A lot of water struck the ground, but it was localized, and for that the truck awning served quite well.

They were no longer in heavily inhabited territory, and had to yield for no traffic. In fact, after a couple of hours they had not seen another living soul, nor did Jaysu feel any sense of a population out there. There were some individuals here and there, perhaps in twos and threes, but they seemed to flee at the sound of the truck. She wondered if they were fugitives from the system, hiding out and eking out a meager subsistence living in this dense jungle rather than facing some sort of punishment, or perhaps to avoid living in that society. Unless the fugitives, or whatever they were, began attacking travelers, it wouldn’t be worth the time and money to track them down out here.

Just before midday they broke from the jungle onto a broad grassland, and were startled to see how close that mountain wall now was. It lay just ahead, stretching out as far as the eye could see on both sides, shrouded in fog and mist at the top. She had no idea how they were supposed to get up there and over it without flying.

The answer was clearer when they pulled up to a large complex set into the rock of the mountain itself. At first Jaysu thought it was a religious shrine or great temple; it had that look about it, right up to the gigantic colonnades and ornate carved figures of Alkazarians in various classic poses. There was also a busy parking lot, complete with uniformed traffic cops, and a great many of the crawlers—as the passenger trucks were called—all around, some with mud-colored uniformed crews looking fresh and waiting, others spattered with mud or reddish clay dust, looking like they’d come through rough terrain.

All roads on this side, it appeared, led here.

“Why are we here?” she asked the others. “If these people do not like others anywhere else but in towns, then why would they bring us to one of their holy places?”

For the first time Vorkuld laughed, and the two females tittered along with him. “Well, ma’am, it is a hole, all right, but it is not holy, at least not in the sense I take you mean it,” he explained. “This is the Great Western Lift. It was quite an accomplishment to build many years ago, and is also a nightmare to maintain, but it’s saved a great deal of time and effort. Before it was built, contact with the lowland coast was difficult to impossible except by airplane or glider, both of which cost a lot to run and have limited capacities. With the lifts, this one and the newer Eastern Lift in Qualt Province, we are united again. There will be, of course, more formalities, but this is our destination.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, but the added formalities were easy to imagine.

But this turned out to be worse than the others, even the entrance ones. There seemed to be so many agencies, so many different official uniforms, so many redundant question and answer tables, that it seemed every Alkazarian was involved in bureaucracy and paper pushing. They wondered who actually did the work, or how much those who did could really accomplish in the few minutes a day they weren’t being questioned, their papers examined, and their motives impugned.

It was understandable that they be given more scrutiny than the usual worker going back and forth here, though, as the officials were fond of telling them, few foreigners were ever allowed to get this far. Even fewer