The Well of Darkness (10 page)

What did she say in the letter?
I wondered, searching for the remembered line.

“Free yourself soon,” she says.

Not “if you can.”

“When to expect you.”

Not “if you survive.”

Bless her
, I thought, my throat so choked that I’d have been crying, if Gandalarans could weep for emotional reasons.
She still believes in me.

Then I
‘
ve got to believe in myself.

The problem is, how do I get out of here? I
‘
m not guarded, but if I leave, you can bet I
‘
ll be followed. That wimp Tullen
—
the clerk Obilin mentioned, an unlikable person
—
will notify Indomel first thing, of course. There
‘
s nothing I can do about that, and Tarani seems to think she can handle Indomel. All I have to do is get my body away from here in one piece.

I walked to the wall pegs where my belt was hanging. I touched it, let it fall across my palm. I was sure the circular shapes would escape the notice of anyone who didn’t know the belt was filled with memorial Eddartan gold coins.

There
‘
s more than one kind of power,
I thought.

For the first time since I’d come to Lingis, I spent a sleepless night profitably.

I sent Lonna back with a brief note. It didn’t say much more than
Thanks for writing; I
‘
ll get there as soon as I can.

Everything else I wanted to say kept phrasing itself gushily, and I decided I’d save Lonna the weight, me the frustration, and that message for personal delivery.

The next morning, the camp-duty guards and I turned out to wish Naddam a good trip and pleasant duty. When he had gone, I looked over the group I now “commanded”.

“I know it’s no secret to you,” I said, “that my coming here wasn’t my choice. But that fact is, I was put
in charge
, and I am
in charge.
“

I watched them carefully. Several sets of eyes looked away from me and seemed to watch what one man would do—a tall guy named Jaris.

“For the time being, things will continue exactly as Naddam set them up,” I said. “I’m not about to mess with success, at least not until I’m sure any changes will be improvements. Jaris, bring the work schedule and duty roster to my office. The rest of you—back to your assignments.”

I walked away, my spine tingling from the weight of their stares.

Jaris came into the room in Naddam’s quarters that was designated as his office—a broad table and a few chairs, shelves on one wall for rosters, and production records. Jaris was a youngish man for mine work, barely into his twenties, I thought. He was tall and kind of thin, but his slim frame carried whipcords of muscle. I hadn’t been able to figure out whether it was a gesture of unity or one of defiance, but the Lingis guards consistently wore only the trousers of the High Guard uniform. Two baldrics—one for sword, one for dagger, lay across Jaris’s smooth chest. He adjusted his dagger to rest on the top of his thigh when he sat down at my invitation.

I took the rosters he offered me, but set them aside unread. I let him fidget for a few seconds while I stared at him.

No reason
, I thought,
that he shouldn
‘
t be as nervous as I am. This has to be right; it doesn
‘
t figure any other way.

“Ever heard of the Living Death, Jaris?” I asked.

“Who?” he said, almost casually. But I had seen the fractional start he had quickly controlled.

I guessed right
, I thought with relief.
Now if I can just handle this right …

“I thought so,” I said, and stood up to walk over to the window. The slaves who had today’s “domestic” assignment were moving about, collecting night waste from the barracks, tending the vleks. One of the men who had arrived recently staggered out of the barracks to which he’d been sent, tried to call to one of the guards, and fell to coughing. His voice had been nearly inaudible at that distance, but the harsh rasping of his cough crackled across the space.

“All the dying ones come here first,” I said, “which means the Living Death—recruited from among the dying slaves—have to escape from here. Lingis has a high death toll; I’ve seen the records. How many of those corpses are still alive, Jaris? I know Naddam well enough that he wouldn’t have the stomach to handle the bodies himself—so you do it, and you don’t check real close, do you?”

Jaris dropped the pretense of ignorance. He also dropped his other hand to the hilt of his sword.

“What about it?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Not much, really. I just like to understand things, that’s all. And there’s something that puzzles me. Molik paid Obilin, and Obilin paid you, right? And now it’s Worfit who’s footing the bill?”

“Yeah,” he said, then repeated: “What about it?”

I hooked my fingers in my belt, crossed my legs, leaned against the windowsill. “I said I’ve seen the figures,” I answered. “And
between
Molik and Worfit, there was no change in the death rate. Now, I have a proposition for you, but I’d hesitate to do business with a man who might have killed ten or twenty innocent people, just so that a change in statistics wouldn’t make the wrong people suspicious.”

“What’s your proposition?” he asked warily.

“First answer the question,” I said. “Were those other deaths your doing?”

He shifted in his chair. “You a friend of Obilin’s?” he asked.

There was no deception in the way I laughed at that suggestion, and Jaris sensed it.

“Arright,” he said. “Arright. I don’t work exclusive for Obilin. You’re right—there were three seven-days or so when Obilin shut down his operation. I just doubled up on my other business, that’s all. I didn’t kill nobody.”

“Other business?” I repeated, then rocked to my feet, unable to believe the conclusion I’d reached. “
You’re
an agent for the Fa’aldu?”

Jaris was out of his chair, his dagger in his hand. “For a stranger, you sure know a lot. Just who the fleabite are you?”

I held up both hands, palms toward Jaris. “Easy now, I was just surprised, that’s all. As to who I am—you don’t want to know, Jaris. It can only get you into trouble.”

“Yeah,” he said, and relaxed a bit—but he didn’t put away his blade. “Yeah, I got a feeling you’re right. So tell me what you want, and let’s get this done with.”

“I want
out
of here,” I said, putting real desire in the words. “But I need to know what I’d be getting
into.
“

He considered me for a moment. “You already know about Obilin. The phony stiffs go straight to Eddarta and he takes them from there. The Fa’aldu business—goes by another route.”

“Surely the Fa’aldu don’t
pay
you,” I said, thinking of the way they lived, trading, never using coins.

“Not them, the slave’s relatives, friends, whatever. The Fa’aldu do the planning, and take the fee—I get it when the slave reaches the end of the line, some place in Chizan.”

“Why Chizan?”

He laughed, a short, snorting sound. “You know what happens to somebody who’s caught
after
escaping? This side of the world’s filled with lowlifes looking to make a fast zak.” He grinned, knowing I might put him in that same category. “The slaves who been in the mines—they all have a certain look, y’know? Somebody spots ’em, turns ’em in for a standing reward for returned slaves. Guards go anywhere to get ’em back—anywhere this side of Chizan.”

I picked up the two gold coins I’d removed from my belt and left on the windowsill, and I held them so that the light gleamed from them. “Will this buy my passage out of here?” I asked Jaris. “Naturally, I’d prefer the Fa’aldu route.”

“Naturally,” Jaris said, as he stepped forward, holding out his hand. I pulled the coins back. “You wanna do business or not?” he snarled.

“I said before that I want to know what I’m getting into. Where do the Fa’aldu slaves go?”

“I take ’em to Taling when it’s my turn to haul,” he said, grudgingly. “The Fa’aldu have a contact there—from that point to Chizan, I got no idea where they go.”

“How do you account for them being gone?”

“Well, y’know, it’s a funny thing about that long trip to Taling. Folks that look just as healthy as a vlek sometimes fall right over dead all of a sudden. And there ain’t no point in bringing a corpse all the way back here, now is there?”

“When do you have hauling duty again?” I asked.

He grinned. “Now ain’t you just in luck. I got to head out for Taling tomorrow.”

He reached for the coins again; this time I let one of them drop into his palm.

“Hey!” he said.

“I want the name of the Fa’aldu contact in Taling,” I said.

“When we get there,” he growled. “You must think I’m stupid; I ain’t gonna tell you that till we get to Taling.”

“And the deal’s off until I know that name,” I said.

He tossed the gold coin and caught it. “I got half your money, man,” he said.

“And I am not as squeamish as Naddam,” I answered. “I don’t much like this place, but while I’m here, I plan to do a thorough job. In fact, I will be checking dead bodies personally to be sure they’re dead, and reporting any discrepancies
immediately
to Eddarta. Also, until further notice, you’re suspended from water-hauling duty.”

His eyes narrowed and I tensed, afraid for a moment that he’d let his anger get the better of him.

“A baker named Rull,” Jaris said. “His shop is on the north side of town, the southeast corner of a small square.”

I tossed him the other coin. “Tomorrow, then,” I said. “I’ll change clothes with one of the slaves, so—if you should ever be asked—you didn’t even know I went along.”

Jaris tucked the coins into his belt.

“I ain’t gonna miss you much, Lakad,” he said as he went to the door.

“It’s mutual,” I replied.

When he had left, my knees went weak with relief, and I sagged into the chair behind the desk.

It was worth the money for the misdirection
, I thought.
Now when they find me gone in the morning, I
‘
m hoping Jaris will think I
‘
ve headed for Lingis, that the money was a bribe for the Fa
‘
aldu contact
‘
s name, and that the main trickery was in the timing. I
‘
m betting he
‘
ll lead everybody in that direction, bent on revenge.

Most of all, I
‘
m counting on the fact that Jaris is no smarter than he looks.

That unsettling thought was still with me that night, as I filled a makeshift pack with the portions of breakfast and lunch—both served to me in the office—which I had reserved. Fruit, bread, and cheese, and a few scraps of meat. I had been regularly, with no conscious intention, saving up the small, hard sweets that were served as dessert at the evening meals. Those, too, I packed, reflecting that they would come in handy as quick energy during my long run.

I hoped that it wouldn’t occur to anyone that I would set off across the desert alone. These people were uniquely adapted for desert life, with a physical capability to retain water more efficiently than human beings. But water was still essential to their individual existence, even more so to community life. So their cities clustered around the rivers which spilled down from the Wall to irrigate land and quench thirst, and travel was, preferably, a matter of moving from city to city, following the contours of the Wall.

When desert travel was necessary, Gandalarans traveled in groups, lone travelers often waiting days for a caravan going in their direction, and paying in money or service for the chance to travel with the traders. Few Gandalarans felt it necessary to do what I was preparing to do now—endure days of heat and hunger and thirst, merely for the sake of getting from one place to another.

But few Gandalarans have the reasons I do, either
, I mused as I tested the cork stopper in the ink bottle. I added the bottle and several sheets of parchment to the bundle I was piling on the cut-up blanket.
And fewer still have the experience of faster travel. Riding a sha
‘
um makes you impatient with walking. If Keeshah were here, I
‘
d be in Eddarta tomorrow night, instead of four days from now.
The thought made me feel slightly ashamed. The big cat was more, much more, than an animal of burden.
If Keeshah were here, this would all be easier
, I thought, the pain of loss ripping through me once again, as if he had only now left me. With it came another thought, full of anguish and fear.

Can that be the reason why I
‘
ve fouled things up so badly?
I wondered.
All the strength, the ability to think and plan, the leadership I had before
—
was that mine, or was it only on loan from Keeshah, through our linked minds? And did it go away with him?

No!
I fought the insecurity, shaking myself mentally.
I was Ricardo before I was Markasset, and I lived a full and decent life with Keeshah
‘
s help. His going hurt me, that
‘
s all. I
‘
ve got to get used to the idea of life without him again
—
for his sake, as well as mine (and Tarani
‘
s). Because I know he couldn
‘
t control the time and place of his need to go.

I had some excuse in the desert
, I admitted to myself,
because of the suddenness of his loss. I was in shock. But if I let it get to me now, and interfere with Tarani
‘
s plans, then I
‘
ll be giving Keeshah responsibility for the consequences. It would hurt him
—
God, how it would hurt him
—
to think that his desertion had brought about my death.

I wasn’t fooling myself on one point—the next time Indomel got his hands on me, I’d die. I had to keep my wits about me, stay free, and—the truth of this shone out—die by my own hand rather than be used again as a weapon against Tarani.