Jack Chalker: Charon: A Dragon at the Gate

“Put away those things,” he told us, gesturing at the pistols. “They are of no use here—and there is no need for them.”

I sighed and bolstered mine. Darva, uncertain, did the same. I looked at him, then at Darva, and sized up the situation. “Does ‘Darkquest’ mean anything to you?”

Darva looked blank, but Morah actually chuckled. “Now where’d you learn that little phrase?”

“I’m it. Park Lacoch. The same boy Korman threw to the wolves a year ago.”

Morah sounded genuinely amused. “And of what use is that information to me now? I already know the true nature of Embuay, and I also know the location of Koril’s base.”

“That may be true, but it’s not my problem,” I responded casually. “I was given a job to do, and the first chance I got I did it.”

That comment, and my calm manner, seemed to give him pause. “You may be right at that.”

“Look—I could’ve taken the safe way out at Bourget, but I didn’t. I deliberately got myself caught and wound up a changeling. Whether or not “you no longer need the information, it says something about me, I think. I’ve paid a pretty high price to be just a redundancy.”

Darva looked at me strangely. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Sorry, honey. I’m a bottom-line pragmatist. I’ll explain it all to you later. Let’s just say Morah and I aren’t necessarily the opponents we might seem to be.”

She looked at Morah with obvious distaste. “Your girl Zala sure wasn’t any help to you, you know.”

Morah nodded, and I felt a little relieved that she was at least going along with me for now.

“It is true that the girl’s been something of a disappointment so far,” the Chief of Security admitted. “Is she with you?”

“Back there—someplace,” I told him. “We didn’t exactly want to stick around for the fireworks.”

“Yes, well, I can understand that,” he responded, sounding a little nervous and preoccupied. “How many are down there?”

“Koril and three others, all damned good,” I told him truthfully. “Plus your girl, of course, if she survived all that”

“Hmmm… Yes. I see…”

He looked and sounded worried, and it gave me no end of satisfaction to see such emotions in him. His appearance, manner, and those damnable eyes all carried such an air of overwhelming power that I would have sworn he was above such things.

“How come you aren’t down helping out your fellow—whatevers?” Darva asked, sensing the same thing.

’1 am not required to,” he said simply. “I am not on the Synod.”

“What! But Koril said—” I began, but he cut me short.

“I told you before I was Chief of Security. I just did not tell you whose security.”

“Oh, gods!” Darva breathed. “He’s working directly for them!

Morah cocked his head. “The battle is over downstairs,” he told us matter-of-factly. “We are about to have visitors.

I suggest we three all go into that room over there and remain very silent.”

I hesitated a moment. “Who won?”

“If the Synod had won, we wouldn’t have to get into this room, now would we?”

That was good enough for me. I followed him. Darva, shrugging, did the same. I knew she was still trying to figure out which side we were on now. As for me, I was trying to figure out Morah’s motives-in all this. Clearly, as chief representative of the aliens on Charon, it was in his best interest to keep Matuze on her throne. Yet, here we were, about to let Koril have her.

There wasn’t time for questions, though; we barely got the door closed when we heard somebody slowly mounting that final stairway. The newcomer sounded tired, perhaps weak and wounded, but he came steadily on. One man. One only. I knew who it had to be.

We heard him pause at the top of the stairs, and I could visualize him looking around cautiously. Finally, he walked past our door and away from us, his footsteps receding.

I turned to Morah. “You’re letting him have her.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But—wait!”

A second, quieter tread could be heard on the stairs. Whoever it was was far lighter and more cautious than the first. We held our breaths a moment, then Morah let out a small sigh and beckoned us back in the room. On the far side was a rather pretty landscape of some world I’d never seen. He pressed a neatly hidden stud on it and the painting moved down silently revealing a one-way mirror.

It was a huge, comfortable living room, beautifully furnished and with good use of open space. Sculpture and paintings were around as well, and I clearly recognized some as lost art treasures of man’s past. Originals, too, I knew instinctively.

Sitting on a divan, dressed casually in slacks, sandals, and a purple sleeveless shirt, was Aeolia Matuze. Unmistakably Matuze, looking every bit as good as her pictures. Very casually relaxed, legs crossed, she was smoking a cigarette in a long holder. She looked neither worried nor apprehensive.

“I assume this is soundproof?” I said in a low tone to Month.

He nodded. “Absolutely. But I have a one way mike connection in.”

“She looks awfully good for her age,” I noted. “Robot?”

“Oh, no. Spell. I don’t think we’re quite ready for a robot Lord of the Diamond as yet.”

“Why not just make everybody robots?” Darva said acidly. “That would make your job obsolete.”

“You misunderstand our motives,” Morah replied, shaking off the sarcastic tone. “The robots are weapons, and, in. a sense, bribes; but they have their limitations as well. As weapons and bribes, they are valuable for the superior abilities they give. But they are sure death for a people and a civilization because of what they take away. Someday, perhaps, you will understand that. But—watch.”

“Do you know what’s gonna happen?” Darva asked him.

He shook his head from side to side. “Not the slightest idea. But it should be—interesting. You see, those entire quarters are wa-inert. Not only is there no wa in anything, the chemical treatment dampens out any wa sense you might have. It is quite a complex treatment and has to be—imported, if you understand.”

I nodded. “That’s why you don’t have it all over this place.”

“That, and the fact that it’s very hard to manufacture and doesn’t work with many surfaces. Still—here we go.”

Aeolia Matuze leaned forward and flicked some ashes into an ornate standing ash tray, then turned toward the door to our right A figure entered, a figure only recognizable with effort.

His clothing was scorched, and his face—all his exposed skin—Was blackened as if by prolonged desert exposure. He was a terrible, and terrifying sight. He stood there in the doorway unsteadily, and stared at the woman.

Aeolia Matuze looked up in surprise. “Toolie! Oh, you poor dear! Whatever did they do to you?”

“It’s been a long time, Aeolia,” said Tulio Koril wearily.

“Oh, my! Come! Sit down in a chair and relax! Can I get you a drink or anything?”

We were dumbfounded by the scene, but Koril just chuckled dryly. “Got some of that wine? The good white?”

She stood up, went over to a small bar, reached behind, took out a bottle, opened it, and poured him a large glass; then she took it over to him. He accepted it, drank some in big gulps, then slowly sipped it. It did seem to relax him.

Aeolia Matuze sat back on the couch so she was pretty well facing him, then just watched bun. She showed no fear, no shock, or horror at her predecessor’s visit, which of course implied that either there was something we didn’t know going on or, at the very least, something Koril sure as hell didn’t I remembered Morah’s comment that, in there, both of them were equals in wa, having none at all.