Echoes of the Well of Souls (24 page)

"I am a diplomat, so I will ignore the insult. Yes, you could. Race, sex, all that will be computer-selected based on the needs of the Well World. There have always been theories that the individual does unconsciously influence the selection to some degree, but it is not clear how or why. Don't be upset. You have a whole new life, starting with coming of age. A whole new start."

"Well, I don't want it!" Juan Campos proclaimed. "I want my old life back—as
me
!"

"You have no choice, as I say. You will either walk through or, to be blunt, you will be thrown through. I assure you that the personnel here in South Zone and even the automated systems here will use force if need be."

Campos let it go, but he was clearly not at all pleased.

"The others who came before—they have already all gone through?" It was Mavra's first question in the session.

"Yes, all, and quite some time ago."

"Who were they? Can you say?"

"Not exactly. Let me punch up the records. Hmmmm. First was a very civilized fellow named David Solomon— pardon the pronunciation. He came nicely dressed, along with two companions, both older, I believe—it is not easy for me to tell much about your race—who were both crippled in some way. The male, who said he was named Joao Antonio Guzman, could not see, as I remember, and the woman, Anne Marie Guzman, presumably a relation, had a terrible disease and could not even move much on her own. Then, a few days later, two males came through. One was definitely an older man in a uniform who said he was Colonel Jorge Lunderman of something called the Brazilian Air Force, whatever that is, and the other was a much younger man in a different uniform named Captain Julian Beard of somebody else's air force."

"I wonder where
they
came from?" Lori mused. "I wonder if they were part of the first investigative team there and got caught?"

"You would not think it would be two officers," Campos commented. "I mean, always send the privates in first is the old rule."

"Perhaps. But if they were part of the science team, it might make sense," Lori said.

"And now the four of you. And I hope that is it for now," the ambassador added.

"Almost certainly," Mavra told him. "Umm . . . just out of curiosity, is there
any
account in any of the legends of any of the races here of a surviving member of the First Race? Of somebody who could work the big computer?"

"Odd you should ask. Yes. The name is part of so many similar legends and sagas here that it is believed that he must have once been real, although whether of the First Race is not known. Come to think of it, he is always said to be a Glathrielian! Indeed, there are so many stories and legends about him that it is not totally certain if he is a real character, a composite, or a part of our extensive mythology. That is hotly debated. But there are ancient battle sites and legends in many hexes, including some that are very alien to Glathriel and very far from it, that have their own stories."

"Uh huh. And his name?"

"It varies, but there is one that is most common. It is, and pardon the translator limitations, urn, let's see—yes, that's it. Brazil. Nathan Brazil."

Nathan Brazil.
Mavra remembered him now. She remembered a
lot
about Nathan Brazil.

"Is there any consistency to what he looked like?"

"I'm afraid not, and any records of him that might have contained such information are apparently lost. Besides, what sort of consistency might you expect from all those races, most of whom could not tell one of you from the other?"

"Point taken. Any other specific names and people in those legends?"

"Many. I am not too proficient in such things myself; the Kwynn were apparently not involved in that, and our sagas are different."

"No Glathrielian woman hero?"

"I do not recall one, although there may be. Why?"

"Just wondering." Mavra in fact felt some vague disappointment at the news that she wasn't even a footnote. Somehow it was a little insulting, all things considered.

Still, what was irritating to her ego might actually be an asset. It would be a lot harder to move around here if one were a world-class legend who could open the Well. Others would get ideas.

Still, she vowed that
this
time they would not forget her!

"I believe," said the ambassador calmly, "that it is time to process you through. This has been a
very
busy day."

"Two favors, if I might," Mavra responded quickly. "First, are pictures of the earlier arrivals available so that we may see if there is anyone we know in them? And second, may I use your translating device to speak to the others here briefly? We have no practical common tongue, I'm afraid."

Lori, astounded at the modern bearing and sophistication in Mavra's conversation, couldn't suppress a smile. In the tongue of the People she said, "I know you cannot explain this in the tongue."

Unexpectedly, the translator issued only an echo of exactly what she had spoken, untranslated, although it clearly caught the conversation. Even the ambassador was surprised. "I've never seen one of these do
that
before," he commented worriedly.

Mavra, too, was surprised and responded, "It knows not the magic of the People."

Again, the words were echoed unchanged.

Mavra gestured toward the ambassador. "Remember," she told Lori. "It might be very good to have a tongue that cannot be known here." Lori nodded, thinking much the same thing.

The ambassador sighed. "Well, stop doing that! It's annoying! Let's see . . . What was it you wanted? Oh, yes. Pictures of the arrivals. Of course, they do not look like this
now
."

He punched some buttons on the console, and a wall screen showed three people in the very same conference room they were using. A twist of a dial focused entirely on one and blew it up to full screen. It showed a very handsome man of clear Latin American ancestry, his hair in the process of going gray, dressed in casual but clearly expensive clothes.

"That's all right. Just one at a time, thank you," Mavra said.

Another twist, and the picture showed a woman, very frail although by no means old, with short hair in a prim bun and thick horn-rimmed glasses. She was in a wheelchair.

Another twist, and a third man came into view, dressed more casually than the other but still quite well. He was a small man, not merely short but thin and wiry, with a large nose and deep-set eyes that seemed almost black and neatly trimmed black hair. He was clean-shaven, but Mavra recognized him in an instant and a clear memory of his face, his voice, his personality filled in inside her mind. There was no question, no doubt about it.

Nathan Brazil had returned to the Well World before her.

"You say it has been a fairly long time since they came through," she noted. "Has he returned to South Zone at all since arriving?"

"I couldn't say. Those records would not be here, if any records of such a visit were actually kept at all. He'd be dealing with his hex ambassador in any event."

"But does it say what they became? The man and the woman in particular?"

"Well, that would be appended here for informational purposes
if
the race has an embassy here and
if
the ambassador bothered to register them. Let me check. Ah, yes. Two of them, anyway. The first man went to Zumerbald, the woman to Dillia, and the third—well, there's no record on him, although that means little, as I said."

I know where he went,
she thought,
and I know just what he looks like.

The picture changed, and two other men came up on the screen, neither familiar.

"This is the colonel and the captain?"

"Yes, if you prefer." A close-up of the older man, the colonel, showed a gruff middle-aged man with gray hair and dark complexion but with distinctly Germanic rather than Brazilian features—not uncommon in Brazil, although Mavra would not know that. The close-up of the other showed a much younger and quite handsome man with thick brown hair and a medium complexion which suggested he hadn't been in the tropics very long. His uniform was khaki-colored and had nothing on it but a name tag and captain's bars on the shoulders.

"The older man went to Nanzistu," the ambassador told her, "and the younger went to—odd, it's not there, but I could have sworn somebody or other said he went to Erdom. Well, they don't keep a permanent ambassador here, and they're a tribal people, so perhaps they didn't do much updating. But that's the lot."

"He looks familiar somehow," Lori said, looking at the handsome man. "I wonder if I met him somewhere. I wouldn't forget a face and body like
that.
It's an American uniform."

"Well, perhaps you will remember; it might be useful," Mavra replied, then turned to the ambassador. "And one other favor," she reminded him.

"Eh? What?"

"Your translator. I would like to speak directly to my companions for a moment. A few minutes, no more."

"Well, you can do that now, can't you?"

"It would be easier if I didn't have to shout. May I just borrow it for a moment and place it right here? Where are we going to go?"

"Oh, very well." He lifted it from around his neck, and she went and took it from him. "Be careful with it, though!"

She took it over and knelt beside Gus. "Gus, can you hear me?"

"Um . . . Huh? Yeah. Been listenin' to this bullshit. Still hung over from them drugs, though. I'd swear that guy over there was a giant pink talking dinosaur."

"You're not hung over, and he's more or less exactly that," Lori assured him. "Look, Gus, you heard it. Whether you believe it or not, they're going to force us through, and who knows where or even
what
we'll be if he's telling the truth?"

"Believe it, Gus," Mavra said firmly. "But that's not the point right now. The point is what happens
after.
I'm going to tell you all right now that I will not change. I am already registered here. I'm going to Ambreza, the old Glathriel, and so did that small fellow up there. You heard my questions about the legends?"

Lori frowned. "Yes, but I don't see—"

"You don't have to. That man is Nathan Brazil. The one in the legends. The man who can work the computer that runs not only this place but
every
place. Sooner or later that is going to get out. Sooner if I have anything to do with it. And although I doubt he's even started yet, sooner or later he's going to head north, to the equator, and go inside. When he does, he is going to become like one of the ancient people that built this place. He'll go down into the guts of this world, check it out, then he'll do a reset."

"A
what
!" Juan Campos and Lori almost said together.

"A reset. It won't affect this world, but it will affect Earth. Drastically. Time, space, everything will be changed. They had few rules, those ancient people. In the end he'll bring Earth and the other inhabited planets back up to speed, to where, in our case, true humans develop. But everybody now alive on Earth, and everybody who's lived up to that point, will be destroyed first. It will all start out from scratch. I—I
think
that they'll all be stored here in the memory banks of the Well World. But all of it, everything and everyone you ever knew, will be gone."

Lori shook her head in wonder. "I'm still having trouble with
this
place. I can't really handle
that
."

"Yes, how do you know this to be true?" Juan Campos added.

"I was there the last time he did it. I—helped. It was necessary, I swear. It was do that or the entire universe would die forever, even this place. But when we started it back up, nothing was made better. Everything developed exactly as it had before. All the suffering, the misery, the evil. I don't know if this crisis is as serious as that one. I don't think it is. Lori, you trusted me enough to come this far, and I wasn't lying, was I? Trust me on this one, too. I want to stop him this time. I want to see if it's necessary to destroy the universe and reset it when a few minor repairs and adjustments will suffice. Maybe this time I can save everybody and make things a little better. I can do that, but only if I beat him inside, to the master control."

"What are you?" Lori asked her. "One of those creatures like him?"

"No. I was born on a distant planet so long ago, it doesn't matter. I was a product of the
last
creation, or recreation, maybe. There is a certain bond between us, and I helped him then. He repaid the kindness by making me more like himself, registering me with the master control and making me virtually immortal. That is why a gate was sent for each of us. Never mind—time is short, I'm afraid, and they like this to go very fast once you're briefed. The plain fact is, I have to beat him there."

"He's got one hell of a head start," Juan Campos noted.

"Not necessarily. You don't know him like I do. He will do anything to put it off, but he finally will be forced to do it. The Well will see to that. Right now he's probably enjoying himself, finding out what's new and what's old here, and trying to think of a thousand reasons why he should not go. At some point he will also try to at least make contact with his companions. That is in his nature, and I know in any event that he has a special fondness for Dillians. It is a very long and very dangerous journey from Glathriel, not far north of Zone, to the equator."