“I think I can,” he responded slowly. “It’s natural, considering your background. On the other hand, there are many worlds where homosexuality is accepted, and you can get children by anything from cloning to artificial insemination. And, of course, men have just as many problems and hang-ups as women. The grass isn’t greener, just different.”
“That might be the fun of it,” she replied. “After all, it’s something I’ve never been—like I’d never been a centaur before, and you’d never been a stag. I know what it’s like to be a woman—and I don’t particularly care for it. Besides, we’re only playing.”
“I guess we are,” he responded. “Since we are, would you rather go back to being a Dillian than what you are now? You can, you know—just go back to Zone through the local Gate and back through again. You’ll be readjusted to the original equation. That’s the most common way of breaking spells around here, you know. That’s the way I’d have handled things if I’d had the time back in Ivrom rather than risking that facedown with the Swarm Queen.”
“I—I’m not sure I could go back to Dillia,” she said softly. “Oh, I loved being that big and strong, loved the country and those wonderful people—but I didn’t fit. That’s what was driving me crazy in the end. Jol was a wonderful person, but it was Dal I was attracted to. And that doesn’t go over in Dillia socially—and, if it did, it’s impractical.”
He nodded. “That’s really what you meant when you told me long ago about how people should love people no matter what their form or looks. But what about me? Suppose I turned into something really monstrous, so alien that it bore almost no resemblance to what you knew?”
She laughed. “You mean like the bat or a Czillian or maybe a mermaid?”
“No, those are familiar. I mean a real monstrosity.”
“As long as you were still you inside, I don’t think anything would change,” she replied seriously. “Why do you talk like that, anyway? Do you expect to turn into a monster?”
“Anything’s possible on this world,” he reminded her. “We’ve seen only a fraction of what can happen—you’ve seen only six hexes, six out of ftfteen hundred and sixty. You’ve met representatives of three or four more. There’s a lot that is stranger.” His voice turned grim. “We have to meet the new Datham Hain shortly, you know. He’s a giant female bug—a monster if ever there was one.”
“Now his outside matches his foul inside,” she snapped bitterly. “Monsters aren’t racial, they’re in the mind. He’s been a monster all his life.”
He nodded. “Look, trust me on this. Hain will get what he deserves—so will everybody. Once inside the Well, we’ll all be what we once were, and then will come the reckoning.”
“Even you?” she asked. “Or will you stay a deer?”
“No, not a deer,” he replied mysteriously, then changed the subject. “Well, maybe it’s better over. Two more days and that’ll be it.”
She opened her mouth to prod, then closed it again. Finally, she asked, “Nathan, is that why you’ve lived so long? Are you a Markovian? Varnett thinks you are.”
He sighed. “No, not a Markovian—exactly. But they might as well continue to think I am. I may have to use that belief to keep everything from blowing apart too soon.”
She looked stunned. “You mean all this time you’ve been dropping hints that you were one of the original builders, and it was all a bluff?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not a bluff, no. But I’m very old, Wuju—older than anyone could imagine. So old that I couldn’t live with my own memories. I blocked them out, and, until arriving here on the Well World, I was mercifully, blissfully ignorant. No mind in history can function long with this much storage input. The shock of the fight and transformation in Murithel brought the past back, but there’s so much! It’s next to impossible to sort it all out, get a handle on it all. But these memories still give me the edge—I know things the rest of you don’t. I’m not necessarily smarter or wiser than you, but I do have all that experience, all that accumulated knowledge of thousands of lifetimes. That gives me the advantage.”
“But they all think you’re going to work the Well for them,” she pointed out. “Everything you’ve said indicates that you know how.”
“That’s why Serge kept us alive,” he explained. “That’s why we’ve been coddled and prodded. I have no doubt that the little voice box on top my antlers has an extra circuit monitored by Serge. He’s probably listening right now. I don’t care anymore. That’s why he could help us, know where we were and what happened to us. That’s why we’re going to meet him; that’s how all this was prepared in advance. Just in case he can’t use me, he’ll use Skander, or Varnett—he thinks.”
“I can see why he’d be concerned with you three,” she replied, “but why the rest of us? Why me, for example?”
If Brazil could have smiled, he would have. “You don’t know Serge—the old Serge. I’d been so lulled by that talk about a wife and kids I’d forgotten how little this world changes the real you, deep down. Hain—well, Hain is useful to keep Skander in check as well as for transportation. I don’t know who else is along, but be sure they’re there only because Serge has some use for them or he hasn’t been able to figure out how to dispose of them properly.”
“But why me?” she repeated.
“They must have some tame nasties on the Comworlds,” he replied sardonically. “You’re a hostage, Wuju. You’re his handle on me.”
She looked uncertain. “Nathan? What if it really came down to that? Would you do what he asked for me?”
“It won’t come to that,” he assured her. “Believe me, it won’t. Varnett has already figured out why, although he’s forgotten in his youthful excitement.”
“Then what will you do?”
“I will lead them all to the Well—Skander can do that anyway, so could Varnett. I intend to show them everything they want. But they will learn that this treasure hunt is full of thorns when they discover what the price really is. I’ll bet you that, once in the control room of their dreams, they will think the price is too high.”
She shook her head in wonder. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“You will,” he replied cryptically, “at midnight at the Well of Souls.”
The trip was uncomfortable and bumpy. They traveled on a huge wooden sled with runners. Pulling them swiftly were eight huge beasts they could not fully see—sandsharks, the Ghlmonese called them. Only huge gray backs and huge, razor-sharp fins were visible as they pulled their heavy load and were kept in check by a Ghlmonese driver with reins for each of the huge creatures.
The sandsharks were giant mammals who lived in the sand as fish lived in water. They breathed air—a single huge nostril opened whenever their great backs broke the surface—and moved at eight to ten kilometers per hour.
By the end of the day the travelers were all sore and bruised, but more than halfway there. They spread rugs out on the sand, and ate food heated by the fiery breath of their driver. There was no problem sleeping that evening, despite the hot air, blowing wind, and strange surroundings.