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Charon: A Dragon at the Gate open until and unless say so, and it can only
be operated by the person on the
I
other end of that camera. Do you understand?"
She nodded weakly, but summoned up enough courage to ask, in a trembling
voice, "Wha... what's this all about? What have I done?"
"I think you know. At first we thought you didn't know, but now it's been
realized that you almost had to know, or at least suspect."
"I I don't know what you're talking about"
"I think you do. Tell me, you were a member of the cult of the Destroyer in
Bourget?"
She nodded hesitantly.
"Who was the leader of the cult?"
"I I can't tell you that. It is forbidden."
"Zala, as you know well, we are the superiors of that organization. Hence, we
already know the name."
"Then why ask me?"
I smiled. She wasn't quite as scared as she was pretending to be. "Because I
want to see if you know."
"Of course I
know. I
said
I was a member, didn't I?"
"Then tell me the name."
I could see thinking going on behind those frightened eyes. "I I really can't.
A
spell was cast to prevent us from revealing it even if we wanted to. As
protection."
Good ploy, I reflected. "You and I know that's not really true. I want the
name.
You won't leave here without giving it."
She shook her head in bewilderment. "I I really can't. I
did get a spell. I was scared..."
I smiled. "You can't tell me, it's true, but not because of a spell. You can't
tell me because you really don't know. You don't remember any of those
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meetings, do you?"
"I of course I do! That's ridiculous!"
"If you did remember, you'd know that the leader of the cult was disguised by
a spell, as were most of the members. You couldn't know who that head was and
no spell would prevent you from telling me that. You're lying, Zala Embuay.
You were never a member of that cult."
"I of course I was! See?" She pointed to the horns. "How else could I get
these!"
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Charon: A Dragon at the Gate
"That is the question we're trying to answer here. You see, in the confusion
there really wasn't enough time or organization to check everybody against the
membership rolls. They had to take anybody who suddenly sprouted a pair of
horns. We've already caught a few spies." That was a complete lie, although
the thought had occurred to Koril and his staff and histories had been taken.
The truth was, nobody could really be sure, so they were simply all under
observation and in no case permitted to leave or even approach the cargo
areas, Zala included, "They learned that death is the least punishment a spy
can expect here."
At that moment I reached out to her and touched her wa, effortlessly weaving a
mild demand spell. She gave a sharp cry and stood up. I had to give a slight
paralyzing stroke to her legs to keep her from involuntarily bolting. I had to
be dramatic while being careful not to juggle mass, since this was to be a
strictly temporary spell but that was all right. The wa took days, even weeks,
to complete a physical change, whereas the perception of that change was
immediate.
She watched as her hands and arms shriveled, changed, became a mottled green
and brown, then larger and heavier as they turned into perfectly repulsive
suckered tentacles that, to her, weighed half a ton.
"No!
" she screamed.
"Want a mirror to see the rest of you?" I taunted, feeling less than wonderful
about all this but realizing its need. Korman said she would break only under
extreme pressure, and this was certainly that.
"No! No! No!
" she wailed.
"Kira! Please help me! Kira! Kira!"
I
suddenly felt a little better. So she did know! I watched and waited to see
what would happen next.
Korman had told me that I would one day perceive the wa as he did and I was
well past that point The two forebrains of Zala Embuay showed clearly, not
just as two brains but as two distinct and particularly weird ones. From the
odd, distorted wa sense they looked about equal, each smaller than the norm
for a human. If a person had the Power, you could see the information flow
from wa to wa.
Zala didn't but somebody did. Somebody, in fact, abruptly started doing the
nearly impossible.
The message flares, terribly strong, flowed from the brain to the body and
back again, measuring, checking the spell which showed as a spider's web of wa
energy, then unraveling it in the same manner as I had unraveled Darva's spell
and
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Charon: A Dragon at the Gate my own. Whoever was doing it and it had to be
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Zala herself was a stronger sore than the spell, which was, of course, a
simple one but still a level VI or VII. I
began to wonder if this mind might be more powerful than my own, and reflected
that I just might have to find out. One thing was clear not only was the mind
powerful, it was extremely well trained. When? And by whom?
I made no effort to defend the spell and it broke easily, restoring Zala
quickly to her former appearance. Very briefly I saw a vision of that
stronger, amazonlike
Zala of those last moments on the streets of Bourget. But the vision was
fleeting and quickly gone. Kira, it appeared, was still not quite willing to
meet me face to face.
Zala sat down, looking weak and shaken. I did not intend to let her get off
that easily.
"Zala, who is Kira?" I asked her.
She just shook her head and wouldn't look at me directly.
"She's inside you, isn't she?" I pressed. "Kira and you share the same body,
don't you? And that's why you're here, on Charon because of Kira, isn't that
right?
Zala, what is Kira?"
She put her hands to her ears, trying to block out my voice, but it wasn't
going to be that easy.
"Kira, if you can hear me, understand me, you'd better put in an appearance,"
I
said sharply. "Your spells are good, but that was a minor one for me and I'm
hardly the most powerful sore here. Any attempt to disable that laser by spell
will be instantly detected and it will fire.
Wa takes time to weave. I don't think anybody can beat the speed of light.
You'll sit here until you come out, Kira. Sit here without food, without
water, in a plain and empty room in a place in the desert from which there's
no escape."
Zala's head turned and looked at the laser-camera combination, but she made no
attempt at it. Finally she turned to me. "Damn you! Who the hell are you,
anyway?'
I smiled. "Why, Zala, honey, it's your old loving husband, dear old Park, in
his new suit of changeling clothes. Remember me?"
That got her, more than the threats or anything. "Park?" she managed weakly.
"Is that really you?"
I bowed slightly. "It's me, all right. And if it's any consolation, you were
blown
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