The Well of Darkness

Title Page

Preliminary Proceedings

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

End Proceedings

About the Authors

Also by Randall Garrett & Vicki Ann Heydron

—Enter, please. I see it is time to continue the Recording.

—Yes.

—You sigh. Are you not well?

—I’m fine, Recorder. But this part of the story is … unpleasant for me to remember. To hate someone so much isn’t something I’m proud of.

—Perhaps you judge yourself too harshly.

—Judge. You have told me, Recorder, that you only Record, that you do not judge. What of the All-Mind? Does it form judgments?

—That is a question I may answer in belief, but not in fact.

—I’d like to know what you think. Please, it is important to me.

—Very well, then. I believe that the All-Mind, too, merely Records. Only those who seek its knowledge make judgments about what they read there. I also believe it is your purpose, in making this Record, that all who would learn of these events you recount see as clear a truth as possible.

—That’s true.

—And do you think that such a seeker would find your hatred unprovoked?

—No. Thank you, Recorder. I believe I can continue now.

—Good. Then, to quickly sum up what has gone before, we return to a point outside Eddarta. You and Keeshah and Tarani have the Ra’ira, a blue gem which confers telepathic powers on one who is already mindgifted. You have brought it out of the city of rivers and slaves, and are taking it back to Raithskar, where it may be properly safeguarded. Now make your mind one with mine, as I have made mine one with the All-Mind …

WE BEGIN!

I breathed a sigh of relief when the la farmland at the outskirts of Eddarta fell behind us.

It wasn’t that I found the desert attractive—quite the opposite. Our hurried exit from the city hadn’t allowed us time to bring provisions for the desert crossing, and Tarani and I could look forward to being slightly uncomfortable before we reached the nearest Refreshment House, where the Fa’aldu would provide us with food, water, and shelter.

Keeshah would have the worst of it, I was afraid. The big cat’s body was even more efficient than ours at conserving water, but he was going to carry two people across nearly two hundred miles of hot, totally waterless desert. If I pushed him, we could make the trip in less than three days, but by the time we reached the Refreshment House at Iribos, he would be badly in need of food and rest.

The hardship ahead of us notwithstanding, being out of Eddarta was like no longer having a toothache. Now that we were safely out of Idomel’s reach, I realized that I had felt oppressed and burdened during the time we had spent in Eddarta. The pressure to accomplish our purpose had contributed to that sensation, and my confused feelings for Tarani hadn’t helped any. The city itself, however, had disturbed me—it had a character that was distinctly distasteful.

As Rikardon, I was a blending of the Gandalaran memories and abilities of a native with the perceptions and attitudes of a stranger. Ricardo, the stranger, viewed all Gandalaran things from the perspective of a twentieth-century American. Young Markasset, the native, hadn’t known a whole lot about his own world. His strong points had been physical skills and emotion, not intellectual curiosity. He had been aware of the fact that slavery was practiced in Eddarta and had, in a general way, disapproved.

Eddarta, however, was all the way on the other side of Markasset’s world from his home city of Raithskar, and both cities had been centuries developing their styles. Slavery in Eddarta, though regrettable to Markasset, had seemed as much a fact of life as the beneficial bureaucracy ruled by the Council of Raithskar.

Ricardo Carillo, had studied languages for most of his life. Inseparable from that study was an awareness of the history through which languages developed and changed. Ricardo had a healthy respect for every man’s right to choice; he had invested a few years of his life, through military service in the U.S. Marines, in support of that ideal.

Eddarta didn’t fit directly into any historical pattern I could identify from human history, but it had the unpleasant elements of several unappetizing periods.

Revenue from land or service didn’t belong to the producer, but to his or her “landpatron”—a member of one of the seven ruling families. In feudal Europe, the rise of the guilds had helped break down the feudal system. Crafts hadn’t been tied to the land, and a Guildsman had been able to take his art out of range of an ungrateful sponsor.

Travel wasn’t all that easy in Gandalara, where everyone except Sharith (which meant nearly everybody)
walked
, and every
where
they walked was mostly desert. In Eddarta, craftsmen continued to be identified by their work location, just like food producers. A part of their revenue went to their landpatrons, and craftsmen could be called upon for special service with no payment. If a Lord wanted to throw a special party, the fresh fruit and a new set of bronze tableware were equally available to him on request from his landservants.

The Lords of Eddarta, while unlikable, were no dummies. They knew better than to ask of the people on whom they depended for their comfort to do certain kinds of work for them. Slaves were bought, conquered, or condemned to do those jobs.

Besides being useful as personal servants and heavy laborers, the slaves provided Eddarta with a lowest class, so that the landservants could think of themselves as farmers or craftsmen or merchants. While the slaves were totally under the control of the Lords, landservants had the
illusion
of freedom, though they seldom tried to leave Eddarta.

Their freedom was a political illusion much like the psychic ones Tarani could project. I’m sure that my sense of relief included a feeling of gratitude that we had never been truly a part of Eddarta, and so could truly escape the city.

At least
I
could.

I wasn’t sure what
Tarani
was feeling, except that the heaviness of her body against my back told me of her weariness. She had managed to nap, now and again—a remarkable feat for one riding second place on a sha’um. I, at least, had the security of direct contact with Keeshah’s furred back. Tarani’s position, riding the cat’s hips, her legs bent and tucked inside mine, was more precarious and less comfortable. That she had been able to sleep spoke eloquently of how tired she was.

We had been traveling for several hours, and had a substantial head start on any possible pursuit from Eddarta. The moon had set; since little starlight could penetrate the continuous cloud cover, Keeshah was finding his route through scent, memory, and an innate sense of direction. He ran through an eerie silence, his breathing and the whisper of sand under his big paws the only sounds we heard. He seemed tireless.

*Stop, Keeshah
,* I said to the sha’um, through the telepathic linkage we shared.

*No.*
Keeshah’s thought was abrupt, preoccupied; his body continued its pace without hesitation.

*
What? Don
‘
t you want to rest?
* I asked him.

*No.*
Again that scary sense of distance, as if he were responding automatically to a routine question that didn’t really require his attention.

I had been half asleep myself, dozing with my face pressed into soft fur. The strangeness of Keeshah’s mood pulled me fully awake.

*
Hey,
* I said. *
It
‘
s been a long night, Keeshah. You may be indestructible, but we
‘
re not. Let
‘
s stop and catch a few hours
’
sleep.
*

*Don’t want to,*
he said, finally focusing his attention on me.

Something was still strange, and it was a minute or two before I could pinpoint what it was. Keeshah seemed to be speaking to me from only the surface of his mind. Our usual close contact, that occurred on a deeper level as shared
thinking
, rather than shared
thought
, was closed off, blocked.

*
Is something wrong, Keeshah?
* I asked him.

Hesitation, then:
*No.*

He must be more tired than he wants to show me,
I decided.
He
‘
s hiding it because he
‘
s eager to get home.

Me, too,
I sighed.
Markasset loved Raithskar, but he hadn
‘
t seen much of the world. I haven
‘
t been everywhere in, Gandalara myself, but I
‘
ve covered a large chunk of territory these past weeks, and I
‘
m in a better position to appreciate Raithskar
‘
s beauty, cleanliness, and peacefulness.

I thought of what lay within the leather pouch that rode within the crook of my hip.
After I deliver the Ra
‘
ira to Thanasset
—
and take a week-long bath
—
I
‘
m going to show Tarani the city. I know she
‘
ll love it as much as I do.

Thoughts of Tarani reminded me of what Keeshah’s odd mood had distracted me from: the need to get some rest.

*
Please stop, Keeshah,
* I said.

He didn’t answer me for a few seconds, and I found myself considering the astonishing possibility that the big cat might refuse—something that hadn’t happened since Markasset and Keeshah, both of them youngsters, had formed their unique bond.

Markasset may have
thought
that he gave Keeshah orders, but I’d never had that delusion. From the day I had awakened in Gandalara, I had been awed by the big cat, and delighted by our partnership. Keeshah had done some things that went against his own wishes, but out of friendship, not in obedience.

Keeshah was three times my size. His razor-sharp claws were as long as my own fingers.

Question,
I thought.
What does a sha
‘
um do when the carnival comes to town?

Answer. Anything he wants.

I knew the sha’um would never hurt me, but a wave of apprehension swept through me. Keeshah had challenged an ordinary, sensible suggestion. In spite of what he had told me, I knew
something
was wrong—but not
what.
That troubled me more than anything else. After all our close sharing, I couldn’t tell, automatically, what was troubling him.

Keeshah slowed down, solving at least one problem.
*All right,*
he said.
*Rest. But go soon?*

It was less a question than an ultimatum. I checked my convenient Gandalaran “inner awareness” and realized that dawn was only a couple of hours away.

*As soon as it’s light,*
I promised. It was far less rest than Tarani or I needed, but I wasn’t sure Keeshah would allow a longer delay. The uncertainty was awkward and unsettling.

Keeshah crouched down to let us step off his back. Tarani was still mostly asleep; I heard the raspy sound of shifting sand as she staggered a bit. As Keeshah moved away from us, I reached out to steady her, and she fell into my arms.