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12 - The Door Through Space - Marion Zimmer Bradley · Daily Classic Sci Fi Books

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  Speaker 1: Chapter twelve. An hour before dawn, there was a noise
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  Speaker 1: in my room. I roused my hand on my skin.
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  Speaker 1: Someone or something was fumbling under the mattress where I
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  Speaker 1: had thrust Evarin's bird. I struck out, encountered something warm
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  Speaker 1: and breathing, and grappled with it in the darkness. A
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  Speaker 1: foul smelling something gripped over my mouth. I tore it
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  Speaker 1: away and struck hard with the skein. There was a
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  Speaker 1: high shrilling. The gripping filth loosened and fell away, and
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  Speaker 1: something dyed on the floor. I struck a light, wretching
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  Speaker 1: in revulsion. It hadn't been human. There wouldn't have been
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  Speaker 1: that much blood from a human, not that color either.
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  Speaker 1: The chalk who ran the place came and gibbered at me.
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  Speaker 1: Chocks have a horror of blood, and this one gave
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  Speaker 1: me to understand that my lease was up then, and
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  Speaker 1: there no arguments, no refunds. He wouldn't even let me
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  Speaker 1: go into his stone outbuilding to wash the foul stuff
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  Speaker 1: from my shirt cloak. I gave up and fished under
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  Speaker 1: the mattress for Evan's toy. The chalk. I got a
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  Speaker 1: glimpse of the embroideries on the silk in which it
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  Speaker 1: was wrapped, and stood back, his loose, furry lips hanging open,
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  Speaker 1: while I gathered my few belongings together and strode out
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  Speaker 1: of the room. He would not touch the coins I offered.
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  Speaker 1: I laid them on a chest, and he let them
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  Speaker 1: lie there, And as I went into the reddening morning,
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  Speaker 1: they came flying after me into the street. I pulled
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  Speaker 1: the silk from the toy and tried to make some
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  Speaker 1: sense for my predicament. The little thing lay innocent and
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  Speaker 1: silent in my palm. It wouldn't tell me whether it
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  Speaker 1: had been keyed to me the real cargole some time
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  Speaker 1: in the past, or to recall using my name and
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  Speaker 1: reputation in the Terran colony here at Charin. If I
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  Speaker 1: pressed the stud, it might play out this comedy of
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  Speaker 1: errors by hunting down recall, and all my troubles would
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  Speaker 1: be over for a while, at least until Evarin found
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  Speaker 1: out what had happened. I didn't deceive myself that I
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  Speaker 1: could carry the impersonation through another meeting. On the other hand,
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  Speaker 1: if I pressed the stud, the bird might turn on me,
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  Speaker 1: and then all my troubles would be over for good.
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  Speaker 1: If I delayed past f AND's deadline and did nothing,
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  Speaker 1: the other bird in his keeping would hunt down Julie
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  Speaker 1: and give her a swift and not too painless death.
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  Speaker 1: I spent most of the day in a chalk dive,
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  Speaker 1: juggling plans, toys, innocent and sinister spies, messengers, toys which
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  Speaker 1: killed horribly, toys which could be controlled, perhaps by the
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  Speaker 1: pliant mind of a child. And every child hates its
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  Speaker 1: parents now and again. Even in the Terran colony, who
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  Speaker 1: was safe? In Max's very home, one of the Magnuson
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  Speaker 1: youngsters had a shiny thing which might or might not
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  Speaker 1: be one of Evren's hellish toys. Or was I beginning
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  Speaker 1: to think like a superstitious dry towner. Damn it, Evarin
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  Speaker 1: couldn't be infallible. He hadn't even recognized me as race Cargle,
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  Speaker 1: or suddenly the sweat broke out again on my forehead,
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  Speaker 1: or had he had the whole thing been one of
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  Speaker 1: those sinister, deadly and incomprehensible non human jokes. I kept
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  Speaker 1: coming to the same conclusion. Julie was in danger, but
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  Speaker 1: she was half a world away. Recall, was here in
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  Speaker 1: Charin there was a child involved Julie's child. The first
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  Speaker 1: step was to get inside the Terran colony and see
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  Speaker 1: how the land lay. Charin is a city shaped like
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  Speaker 1: a crescent moon, encircling the small trade city, a miniature spaceport,
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  Speaker 1: a miniature skyscraper h Q, and clustered dwellings of the
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  Speaker 1: Terrans who worked there and those who lived with them
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  Speaker 1: and supplied them with necessities, services, and luxuries. Entry from
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  Speaker 1: one to the other is through a guarded gateway, since
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  Speaker 1: this is hostile territory and Charin lies far beyond the
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  Speaker 1: impress of ordinary Terran law. But the gate stood open wide,
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  Speaker 1: and the guards looked lax and bored. They had shockers,
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  Speaker 1: but they didn't look as if they'd used them lately.
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  Speaker 1: One raised an eyebrow to his companion. As I shambled up,
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  Speaker 1: I could pretty well guess the impression I made, dirty, unkempt,
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  Speaker 1: and stained with non human blood. I asked permission to
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  Speaker 1: go into the Terran zone. They asked me my name
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  Speaker 1: and business, and I toyed with the notion of giving
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  Speaker 1: them the name of the man I was inadvertently impersonating.
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  Speaker 1: Then I decided that if Rakhal had passed himself off
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  Speaker 1: as raised cargole, he'd expect exactly that, and he was
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  Speaker 1: also capable of the master stroke of impudence, putting out
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  Speaker 1: a pick up order through space Force for his own name.
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  Speaker 1: So I gave them the name we'd us from shan
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  Speaker 1: Saw to Charin and tacked one of the secret service
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  Speaker 1: passwords on the end of it. They each looked at
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  Speaker 1: each other again, and one said, Rascara, this is the guy,
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  Speaker 1: all right. He took me into the little booth by
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  Speaker 1: the gate while the other used an intercom device. Presently,
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  Speaker 1: they took me along to the h Q building and
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  Speaker 1: into an office that said Leggett. I tried not to panic,
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  Speaker 1: but it wasn't easy. Evidently I had walked square into
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  Speaker 1: another trap. One guard asked me, all right, now, what
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  Speaker 1: exactly is your business in the trade city. I'd hoped
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  Speaker 1: to locate Recall first. Now I knew I'd have no chance,
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  Speaker 1: and at all costs, I must straighten out this matter
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  Speaker 1: of identity before it went any further. Put me straight
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  Speaker 1: through to Magnuson's office, level thirty eight at Central h Q.
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  Speaker 1: By VISI I demanded. I was trying to remember if
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  Speaker 1: mac had ever even heard the name we used in Shansa.
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  Speaker 1: I decided I couldn't risk it. Name of Race Cargill.
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  Speaker 1: The guard grinned without moving, He said to his partner,
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  Speaker 1: that's the one, all right. He put his hand on
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  Speaker 1: my shoulder, spinning me around. Haul off, man, shake your boots.
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  Speaker 1: There were two of them, and Space Force guards aren't
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  Speaker 1: picked for their good looks. Just the same. I gave
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  Speaker 1: a pretty good account of myself until the inner door
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  Speaker 1: opened and a man came storming out, What the devil
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  Speaker 1: is all this racket? One guard got a hammer lock
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  Speaker 1: on me. This dry Tonerbaum tried to talk us into
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  Speaker 1: making a priority call to Magnuson, the chief at Central.
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  Speaker 1: He knew a couple of the S S passwords. That's
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  Speaker 1: what's got him through the gate. Remember Cargo passed the
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  Speaker 1: word that somebody would turn up trying to impersonate him.
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  Speaker 1: I remember the strange man's eyes were warry and cold.
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  Speaker 1: You damned fools, I snarled, Magnuson, will identify me? Can't
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  Speaker 1: you realize you're dealing with an impostor? One of the
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  Speaker 1: guards said to the legot in an undertone, maybe we
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  Speaker 1: ought to hold him as a suspicious character. But the
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  Speaker 1: legate shook his head not worth the trouble. Cargo said
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  Speaker 1: it was a private affair. You might search him, make
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  Speaker 1: sure he's not concealing contraband weapons. He added, and talked
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  Speaker 1: softly to the wide eyed clerk in the background while
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  Speaker 1: the guards went through my shirt, cloak, and pockets. When
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  Speaker 1: they started to unwrap the silk shrouded toy, I yelled.
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  Speaker 1: If the thing got set off accidentally, there'd be trouble.
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  Speaker 1: The legate turned and rebuked, can't you see it's embroidered
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  Speaker 1: with the toad God. It's a religious ambulance of some sort.
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  Speaker 1: Let it alone. They grumbled, but gave it back to me,
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  Speaker 1: and the legate commanded, don't mess him up any more.
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  Speaker 1: Give him back his knife and take him to the gates,
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  Speaker 1: but make sure he doesn't come back. I found myself
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  Speaker 1: seized and frog marched to the gate. One guard pushed
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  Speaker 1: my skin back into its clasp. The other shoved me hard,
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  Speaker 1: and I stumbled fell sprawling in the dust of the
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  Speaker 1: cobbled street, to the accompaniment of a profane statement about
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  Speaker 1: what I could expect if I came back. A chorus
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  Speaker 1: of jeers from a cluster of chalk children and veiled
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  Speaker 1: women broke across me. I picked myself up, glowered so
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  Speaker 1: fiercely at the giggling spectators that the laughter drained away
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  Speaker 1: into silence, and clenched my fists, half inclined to turn
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  Speaker 1: back and bowl my way through. Then I subsided first
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  Speaker 1: round to recall. He had sprung the trap on me
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  Speaker 1: very neatly. The street was narrow and crooked, winding between
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  Speaker 1: doubled rows of pebble houses, and full of dark shadows.
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  Speaker 1: Even in the crimson noon, I walked aimlessly, favoring the
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  Speaker 1: arm the guard had crushed. I was no closer to
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  Speaker 1: settling things with recall, and I had slammed at least
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  Speaker 1: one gait behind me. Why hadn't I had sense enough
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  Speaker 1: to walk up and demand to see race Carkele. Why
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  Speaker 1: hadn't I insisted on a finger print check. I could
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  Speaker 1: prove my identity and recall using my name in my
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  Speaker 1: absence to those who didn't know me by sight. Couldn't
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  Speaker 1: I could at least have made him try, But he
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  Speaker 1: had maneuvered it very cleverly, so I never had a
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  Speaker 1: chance to insist on proofs. I turned into a wine
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  Speaker 1: shop and ordered a dram of greenish mountain berry liquor,
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  Speaker 1: sipping it slowly and fingering the few bills and coins
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  Speaker 1: in my pockets. I'd better forget about warning Julie. I
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  Speaker 1: couldn't vise her from Charin except in the Terran zone.
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  Speaker 1: I had neither the money nor the time to make
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  Speaker 1: the trip in person, even if I could get passage
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  Speaker 1: on a Terran dominated airline. After to day, Miellynn she
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  Speaker 1: had furted with me, and like Dallisa, she might prove vulnerable.
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  Speaker 1: It might be another trap, but I'd take the chance.
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  Speaker 1: At least I could get hints about Evarin, and I
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  Speaker 1: needed information. I wasn't used to this kind of intrigue anymore.
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  Speaker 1: The smell of danger was foreign to me now, and
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  Speaker 1: I found it unpleasant. The small lump of the bird
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  Speaker 1: in my pocket tantalized me. I took it out again.
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  Speaker 1: It was a temptation to press the stud and let
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  Speaker 1: it settle things, or at least start them going. Then
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  Speaker 1: and there after a while I noticed the proprietors of
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  Speaker 1: the shop staring at the silk of the wrappings. They
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  Speaker 1: backed off, apprehensive. I held out a coin and they
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  Speaker 1: shook their heads. You are welcome to the drink, one
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  Speaker 1: of them said, all we have is at your service
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  Speaker 1: only please go, go quickly. They would not touch the
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  Speaker 1: coins I offered. I thrust the bird in my pocket, swore,
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  Speaker 1: and went. It was my second experience with being somehow taboo,
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  Speaker 1: and I didn't like it. It was dusk when I realized
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  Speaker 1: I was being followed. At first, it was a glimpse
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  Speaker 1: out of the corner of my eye ahead, seen too
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  Speaker 1: frequently for coincidence. It developed into a too persistent footstep
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  Speaker 1: in uneven rhythm, tap tap tap, tap, tap tap. I
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  Speaker 1: had my skien handy, but I had a hunch this
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  Speaker 1: wasn't anything I could settle with a skin. I ducked
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  Speaker 1: into a side street and waited nothing. I went on
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  Speaker 1: laughing at my imagined fears, and then after a time,
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  Speaker 1: the soft, persistent footfall thudded behind me again. I cut
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  Speaker 1: across a thieves market, dodging from stall to stall, cursed
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  Speaker 1: by old women selling hot fried goldfish, women in striped
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  Speaker 1: veils railing at me in their chiming talk. When I
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  Speaker 1: brushed their rolled rugs with hasty feet. Far behind, I
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  Speaker 1: heard the familiar uneven hurry, tap tap tap, tap tap tap.
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  Speaker 1: I fled down a street where women sat on flower
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  Speaker 1: decked balconies, their open lanterns flowing with fountains and rivulets
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  Speaker 1: of gold and orange fire. I raced through quiet streets,
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  Speaker 1: where furred children crept to doors and watched me pass
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  Speaker 1: with great golden eyes that show in the dark. I
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  Speaker 1: dodged into an alley and lay there, breathing hard. Some
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  Speaker 1: one not two inches away said, are you one of us? Brother?
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  Speaker 1: I muttered something surly in his dialect, and a hand
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  Speaker 1: reassuringly human closed on my elbow. This way, out of
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  Speaker 1: breath with long running I let him lead me, meaning
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  Speaker 1: to break away after a few steps, apologize for mistaken identity,
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  Speaker 1: and vanish. When a sound at the end of the
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  Speaker 1: street made me jerk stiff and listen, tap tap tap,
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  Speaker 1: tap tap tap. I let my arm relax in the
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  Speaker 1: hand that guided me, flung a fold of my shirt
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  Speaker 1: cloak over my face, and went along with my unknown guide.
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  Speaker 1: End of chapter twelve.