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12 - The Door Through Space - Marion Zimmer Bradley · Classic Science Fiction Books

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