“Oh, gods!” Darva breathed. “He’s working directly for them!
Morah cocked his head. “The battle is over downstairs,” he told us matter-of-factly. “We are about to have visitors.
I suggest we three all go into that room over there and remain very silent.”
I hesitated a moment. “Who won?”
“If the Synod had won, we wouldn’t have to get into this room, now would we?”
That was good enough for me. I followed him. Darva, shrugging, did the same. I knew she was still trying to figure out which side we were on now. As for me, I was trying to figure out Morah’s motives-in all this. Clearly, as chief representative of the aliens on Charon, it was in his best interest to keep Matuze on her throne. Yet, here we were, about to let Koril have her.
There wasn’t time for questions, though; we barely got the door closed when we heard somebody slowly mounting that final stairway. The newcomer sounded tired, perhaps weak and wounded, but he came steadily on. One man. One only. I knew who it had to be.
We heard him pause at the top of the stairs, and I could visualize him looking around cautiously. Finally, he walked past our door and away from us, his footsteps receding.
I turned to Morah. “You’re letting him have her.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But—wait!”
A second, quieter tread could be heard on the stairs. Whoever it was was far lighter and more cautious than the first. We held our breaths a moment, then Morah let out a small sigh and beckoned us back in the room. On the far side was a rather pretty landscape of some world I’d never seen. He pressed a neatly hidden stud on it and the painting moved down silently revealing a one-way mirror.
It was a huge, comfortable living room, beautifully furnished and with good use of open space. Sculpture and paintings were around as well, and I clearly recognized some as lost art treasures of man’s past. Originals, too, I knew instinctively.
Sitting on a divan, dressed casually in slacks, sandals, and a purple sleeveless shirt, was Aeolia Matuze. Unmistakably Matuze, looking every bit as good as her pictures. Very casually relaxed, legs crossed, she was smoking a cigarette in a long holder. She looked neither worried nor apprehensive.
“I assume this is soundproof?” I said in a low tone to Month.
He nodded. “Absolutely. But I have a one way mike connection in.”
“She looks awfully good for her age,” I noted. “Robot?”
“Oh, no. Spell. I don’t think we’re quite ready for a robot Lord of the Diamond as yet.”
“Why not just make everybody robots?” Darva said acidly. “That would make your job obsolete.”
“You misunderstand our motives,” Morah replied, shaking off the sarcastic tone. “The robots are weapons, and, in. a sense, bribes; but they have their limitations as well. As weapons and bribes, they are valuable for the superior abilities they give. But they are sure death for a people and a civilization because of what they take away. Someday, perhaps, you will understand that. But—watch.”
“Do you know what’s gonna happen?” Darva asked him.
He shook his head from side to side. “Not the slightest idea. But it should be—interesting. You see, those entire quarters are wa-inert. Not only is there no wa in anything, the chemical treatment dampens out any wa sense you might have. It is quite a complex treatment and has to be—imported, if you understand.”
I nodded. “That’s why you don’t have it all over this place.”
“That, and the fact that it’s very hard to manufacture and doesn’t work with many surfaces. Still—here we go.”
Aeolia Matuze leaned forward and flicked some ashes into an ornate standing ash tray, then turned toward the door to our right A figure entered, a figure only recognizable with effort.
His clothing was scorched, and his face—all his exposed skin—Was blackened as if by prolonged desert exposure. He was a terrible, and terrifying sight. He stood there in the doorway unsteadily, and stared at the woman.
Aeolia Matuze looked up in surprise. “Toolie! Oh, you poor dear! Whatever did they do to you?”
“It’s been a long time, Aeolia,” said Tulio Koril wearily.
“Oh, my! Come! Sit down in a chair and relax! Can I get you a drink or anything?”
We were dumbfounded by the scene, but Koril just chuckled dryly. “Got some of that wine? The good white?”
She stood up, went over to a small bar, reached behind, took out a bottle, opened it, and poured him a large glass; then she took it over to him. He accepted it, drank some in big gulps, then slowly sipped it. It did seem to relax him.
Aeolia Matuze sat back on the couch so she was pretty well facing him, then just watched bun. She showed no fear, no shock, or horror at her predecessor’s visit, which of course implied that either there was something we didn’t know going on or, at the very least, something Koril sure as hell didn’t I remembered Morah’s comment that, in there, both of them were equals in wa, having none at all.
Aeolia Matuze looked genuinely concerned. “Tell me—the burns. Do they hurt much?”
He shrugged. “Not so bad. More stiff than anything else. I think I’m still in a little bit of shock, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
She nodded and appeared satisfied. “You know, I loved you for years, but never more than today. What you did was impossible, Toolie. No other man alive could have made it up here.”
“You knew I’d come back.”
She nodded. “I knew that if anybody could, you would. Tell me, how did you get by the Synod? They could rip iron bars, shoot into space—why, you wouldn’t believe it And they still had all their powers!”
“That was your problem,” Koril told her, taking another sip of wine. “If they didn’t keep their wa power, they were valueless as Synod members. If they did, then they had to have the wa in their molecules as sure as you and me. And wa is wa.”
“But they are virtually impervious!”
He chuckled. “Know what we’re made of, Aeolia ? Chemical. Know what rock is made of? More chemicals. The rule is that if you’re matter you have to be made of something. Chemicals. A specific mix of chemicals. And once you know how something’s put together, and you know there’s wa in each molecule; that stuff, whatever it was, was no different than natural flesh. No different.
And I happened to have a sample of the stuff ahead of time. I had it analyzed. It actually surprised me. The movement of just one little atom in its basic material caused it to change into another equally bizarre substance—but one that burned and melted quite nicely. Isn’t it nice, Aeolia, to know that even sorcery is nothing more than basic chemistry?”
She laughed, seemingly delighted with his explanation.
“How clever of you! I’ll bet the reception room’s a mess.”
“It’ll need a little more than mere redecorating,” he agreed. “At least I’m happy now you got those paintings out of there.”
Darva shook her head wonderingly. “They’re talking like they’re old buddies! Wasn’t he here to kill her?”
“Perhaps,” Morah replied. “But they were married for twenty-seven years.”
Both Darva’s and my own mouth flew open but no sound came out.
“…two left alive down there,” Koril was saying. “They’re in worse shape than I am. They’re backstage, but I told them not to come up just yet.”
Matuze looked satisfied. “Tell me, Toolie—why now? I thought you’d be stuck forever down there in your desert hideaway, particularly with all those delicious toys we allowed to get through.”