A Maze Of Death Part 12

I am impure, he realized. So they send me nothing. By what I have done I've lost the capacity to accept and even to see. Will I never see the G.o.d-Above-G.o.d again? he asked himself. Has it all ended?

My punishment, he thought.

But I don't deserve it. Susie wasn't that important. She was demented; the stone left her in revulsion. That was it; the stone was pure and she was impure. But still, he thought, it's awful that she's dead. Brightness, mobility and light-Susie had all three. But it was a broken, fractured light which she gave off. A light which scorched and injured ... me, for example. It was wrong for me. What I did I did in self-defense. It's obvious. Susie wasn't that important. She was demented; the stone left her in revulsion. That was it; the stone was pure and she was impure. But still, he thought, it's awful that she's dead. Brightness, mobility and light-Susie had all three. But it was a broken, fractured light which she gave off. A light which scorched and injured ... me, for example. It was wrong for me. What I did I did in self-defense. It's obvious.

"The Sword," he said. "The Sword-wrath of Chemosh. Let it come to me." He rocked back and forth, reached up once again into the awesomeness above him. His hand groped, disappeared; he watched it as it vanished. His fingers fumbled in empty s.p.a.ce, a million miles into the emptiness, the hollowness above man ... he continued to grope on and on, and then, abruptly, his fingers touched something.

Touched ... but did not grasp.

I swear, he said to himself, that if I am given the Sword I will use it. I will avenge her death.

Again he touched but did not grasp. I know it is there, he thought; I can feel it with my fingers. "Give it to me!" he said aloud. "I swear that I'll use it!" He waited, and then, into his empty hand, was placed something hard, heavy and cold.

The Sword. He held it.

He drew the Sword downward, carefully. G.o.d-like, it blazed with heat and light; it filled the room with its authority. He at once leaped up, almost dropping the Sword. I have it now, he said to himself joyfully. He ran to the door of the room, the Sword wobbling in his meager grip. Pus.h.i.+ng open the door he emerged in the midday light; gazing around he said, "Where are you, mighty Form Destroyer, you decayer of life? Come and fight with me!"

A shape moved clumsily, slowly along the porch. A bent shape which crept blindly, as if accustomed to the darkness within the Earth. It looked up at him with filmed-over gray eyes; he saw and understood the s.h.i.+rt of dust which clung to it ... dust trickled silently down its bent body and drifted into the air. And it left a fine trail of dust as it moved.

It was badly decayed. Yellowed, wrinkled skin covered its brittle bones. Its cheeks were sunken and it had no teeth. The Form Destroyer hobbled forward, seeing him; as it hobbled it wheezed to itself and squeaked a few wretched words. Now its dry-skin hand groped for him and it rasped, "Hey there, Tony. Hey there. How are you?"

"Are you coming to meet me?" he said.

"Yes," it gasped, and came a step closer. He smelled it, now; mixture of fungus-breath and the rot of centuries. It did not have long to live. Plucking at him it cackled; saliva ran down its chin and dripped onto the floor. It tried to wipe the saliva away with the crust-like back of its hand, but could not. "I want you-" it started to say, and then he stuck the Sword of Chemosh into its paunchy, soft middle.

Handfuls of worms, white pulpy worms, oozed out of it as he withdrew the Sword. Again it laughed its dry cackle; it stood there swaying, one arm and hand groping for him ... he stepped back and looked away as the worms grew in a pile before it. It had no blood: it was a sack of corruption and nothing more.

It sank down onto one knee, still cackling. Then, in a kind of convulsion, it clawed at its hair. Between its grasping fingers strands of long, l.u.s.terless hair appeared; it tore the hair from itself, then held it in his direction, as if it meant to give him something priceless.

He stabbed it again. Now it lay, sightlessly; its eyes gummed over entirely and its mouth fell open.

From its mouth a single furry organism, like an inordinately large spider, crawled. He stepped on it and, under his foot, it lay mashed into oblivion.

I have killed the Form Destroyer, he said.

From far off, on the other side of the compound, a voice carried to him. "Tony!" A "Tony!" A shape came running. At first he could not tell who or what it was; he s.h.i.+elded his eyes from the sun and strained to see. shape came running. At first he could not tell who or what it was; he s.h.i.+elded his eyes from the sun and strained to see.

Glen Belsnor. Running as fast as he could.

"I killed the Form Destroyer," Tony said as Belsnor dashed up onto the porch, his chest heaving. "See?" He pointed, with his Sword, at the crippled shape lying between them; it had drawn up its legs and entered, at the moment of its death, a fetal position.

"That's Bert Kosler!" Belsnor shouted, panting for breath. "You killed an old man!"

"No," he said, and looked down. He saw Bert Kosler, the settlement's custodian, lying there. "He fell into the possession of the Form Destroyer," he said, but he did not believe it-he saw what he had done, knew what he had done. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll ask the G.o.d-Above-G.o.d to bring him back." He turned and ran into his room; locking the door he stood there shaking. Nausea flung itself up into his throat; he gagged, blinked ... deep pains filled his stomach and he had to bend over, groaning with pain. The Sword fell heavily from him, onto the floor; its clank frightened him and he retreated a few steps, leaving it to lie there.

"Open the door!" Glen Belsnor yelled from outside.

"No," he said, and his teeth chattered; terrible cold dashed through his arms and legs; the cold knotted itself into the nausea in his stomach, and the pains became greater.

At the door a terrible crash sounded; the door hesitated and creaked, then abruptly threw itself open.

Glen Belsnor stood there, gray-haired and grim, holding a military pistol pointed directly into the room. Directly at Tony Dunkelwelt.

Bending, Tony Dunkelwelt reached to pick up the Sword.

"Don't," Glen Belsnor said, "or I'll kill you."

His hand closed over the handle of the Sword.

Glen Belsnor fired at him. Point blank.

10.

As the raft drifted downstream, Ned Russell stood staring off in the distance, cloaked by his own thoughts.

"What are you looking for?" Seth Morley asked him.

Russell pointed. "There, I see one." He turned to Maggie. "Isn't that one of them?"

"Yes," she said. "The Grand Tench. Or else one almost as large as he."

"What kind of questions have you asked them?" Russell said.

Showing surprise, Maggie said. "We don't ask them anything; we have no way of communicating with them-they don't have a language or vocal organs insofar as we can determine."

"Telepathically?" Russell said.

"They're not telepathic," Wade Frazer said. "And neither are we. All they do is print duplicates of objects ... which puddle in a few days."

"They can be communicated with," Russell said. "Let's steer this raft over into the shallows; I want to consult with your tench." He slid from the raft, into the water. "All of you get off and help me guide it." He seemed determined; his face was relatively firm. So, one by one, they slid into the water, leaving only B.J.'s silent body aboard the raft.

In a matter of minutes they had pushed the raft up against the gra.s.s-covered sh.o.r.e. They moored it firmly-by shoving it deep into the gray mud-and then crawled up onto the bank.

The cube of gelatinous ma.s.s towered over them as they approached it. The sunlight danced in a mult.i.tude of flecks, as if caught within it. The interior of the organism glowed with activity.

It's bigger than I expected, Seth Morley said to himself. It looks-ageless. How long do they live? he wondered.

"You put articles in front of it," Ignatz Thugg said, "and it pushes a hunk of itself out, and then that hunk forms into a duplicate. Here, I'll show you." He tossed his wet wrist.w.a.tch onto the ground before the tench. "Duplicate that, you jello," he said.

The gelatin undulated, and presently, as Thugg had predicted, a section of it oozed out to come to rest beside the watch. The color of the production altered; it became silverlike. And then it flattened. Design appeared in the silver-substance. Several more minutes pa.s.sed, as if the tench were resting, and then all at once the excreted product sank into the shape of a leather-bound disk. It looked exactly like the true watch beside it ... or rather almost exactly, Seth Morley noted. It was not as bright; it had a dulled quality. But-it was still basically a success.

Russell seated himself in the gra.s.s and began to search through his pockets. "I need a dry piece of paper," he said.

"I have some in my purse that're still dry," Maggie Walsh said. She rummaged in her purse, handed him a small tablet. "Do you need a pen?"

"I've got a pen." He wrote darkly on the top sheet of paper. "I'm asking it questions." He finished writing, held the sheet of paper up, and read from it. "'How many of us will die here at Delmak-O?'" He folded the paper and placed it before the tench, next to the two wrist.w.a.tches.

More of the tench's gelatin burbled out, to come to rest in a mound beside Russell's piece of paper.

"Won't it simply duplicate the question?" Seth Morley asked.

"I don't know," Russell asked. "We'll see."

Thugg said, "I think you're barmy."

Eyeing him, Russell said, "You have a strange idea, Thugg, of what's 'barmy' and what isn't."

"Is that meant to be an insult?" Thugg flushed an angry red.

Maggie Walsh said, "Look. The duplicate piece of paper is forming."

Two folded sheets of tablet paper rested directly in front of the tench. Russell waited a moment, then, evidently deciding that the duplicating process had finished, took the two sheets, unfolded both of them, studied them for a long time.

"Did it answer?" Seth Morley said. "Or did it repeat the question?"

"It answered," Russell handed him one of the sheets of paper.

The note was short and simple. And impossible to misinterpret. You will go out onto your compound and not see your people. You will go out onto your compound and not see your people.

"Ask it who our enemy is," Seth Morley said.

"Okay." Russell wrote again, placed the sheet of paper, folded, before the tench. "'Who is our enemy?'" he said. "That's so to speak the ultimate question."

The tench fas.h.i.+oned an answering slip, which Russell at once grabbed. He studied it intently, then read it aloud. "Influential circles." "Influential circles."

"That doesn't tell us much," Maggie Walsh said.

Russell said, "Evidently that's all it knows."

"Ask it, 'What should we do?'" Seth Morley said.

Russell wrote that, again placing the question before the tench. Presently he had the answer; again he prepared to read aloud. "This is a long one," he said apologetically.

"Good," Wade Frazer said. "Considering the nature of the question."

Russell read, "There are secret forces at work, leading together those who belong together. We must yield to this attraction; then we make no mistakes." "There are secret forces at work, leading together those who belong together. We must yield to this attraction; then we make no mistakes." He pondered. "We shouldn't have split up; the seven of us shouldn't have left the settlement. If we had stayed there Miss Berm would still be alive. It's obvious that from now on we must keep one another in visual sight all the-" He broke off. An additional glob of gelatin was extruding from the tench. Like those before, it formed into a folded slip of paper. Russell took it, opened and read it. "Addressed to you," he said, and handed it to Seth Morley. He pondered. "We shouldn't have split up; the seven of us shouldn't have left the settlement. If we had stayed there Miss Berm would still be alive. It's obvious that from now on we must keep one another in visual sight all the-" He broke off. An additional glob of gelatin was extruding from the tench. Like those before, it formed into a folded slip of paper. Russell took it, opened and read it. "Addressed to you," he said, and handed it to Seth Morley.

"Often a man feels an urge to unite with others, but the individuals around him have already formed themselves into a group, so that he remains isolated. He should then ally himself with a man who stands nearer to the center of the group and can help him gain admission to the closed circle." Seth Morley crumpled up the slip of paper and dropped it onto the ground. "That would be Belsnor," he said. "The man who stands nearer to the center." It's true, he thought; I am outside and isolated. But in a sense all of us are. Even Belsnor. Seth Morley crumpled up the slip of paper and dropped it onto the ground. "That would be Belsnor," he said. "The man who stands nearer to the center." It's true, he thought; I am outside and isolated. But in a sense all of us are. Even Belsnor.

"Maybe it means me," Russell said.

"No," Seth Morley said. "It's Glen Belsnor."

Wade Frazer said, "I have a question." He held out his hand and Russell pa.s.sed him the pen and paper. Frazer wrote rapidly, then, finished, read them his question. "'Who or what is the man calling himself Ned Russell?'" He placed that question in front of the tench.

When the answer appeared, Russell took it. Smoothly and without effort; one moment it lay there and the next he had it in his hand. Calmly, he read it to himself. Then, at last, he pa.s.sed it to Seth Morley and said, "You read it aloud."

Seth Morley did so. "Every step, forward or backward, leads into danger. Escape is out of the question. The danger comes because one is too ambitious." "Every step, forward or backward, leads into danger. Escape is out of the question. The danger comes because one is too ambitious." He handed the slip over to Wade Frazer. He handed the slip over to Wade Frazer.

"It doesn't tell us a d.a.m.n thing," Ignatz Thugg said.

"It tells us that Russell is creating a situation in which every move is a losing move," Wade Frazer said. "Danger is everywhere and we can't escape. And the cause is Russell's ambition." He eyed Russell long and searchingly. "What's your ambition all about? And why are you deliberately leading us into danger?"

Russell said, "It doesn't say I'm leading you into danger, it just says that the danger exists."

"What about your ambition? It's plainly referring to you."

"The only ambition I have," Russell said, "is to be a competent economist, doing useful work. That's why I asked for a work-transfer; the job I was doing-through no fault of my own-was insipid and worthless. That's why I was so glad to be transferred here to Delmak-O." He added, "My opinion has somewhat changed since I arrived here."

"So has ours," Seth Morley said.

"Okay," Frazer said fussily. "We've learned a little from the tench but not much. All of us will be killed." He smiled a mirthless, bitter smile. "Our enemy is 'influential circles.' We must stay in close proximity to one another, otherwise they'll knock us off one by one." He pondered. "And we're in danger, from every direction; nothing we can do will change that. And Russell is a hazard to us, due to his ambition." He turned toward Seth Morley and said, "Have you noticed how he's already taken over as leader of the six of us? As if it's natural to him."

"It is natural to me," Russell said.

"So the tench is right," Frazer said.

After a pause, Russell nodded. "I suppose so, yes. But someone has to lead."

"When we get back," Seth Morley said, "will you resign and accept Glen Belsnor as the group's leader?"

"If he's competent."

Frazer said. "We elected Glen Belsnor. He's our leader whether you like it or not."

"But," Russell said, "I didn't get a chance to vote." He smiled. "So I don't consider myself bound by it."

"I'd like to ask the tench a couple of questions," Maggie Walsh said. She took the pen and paper and wrote painstakingly. "I'm asking. 'Why are we alive?'" She placed the paper before the tench and waited.

The answer, when they had obtained it, read: To be in the fullness of possession and at the height of power.

"Cryptic," Wade Frazer said. "'The fullness of possession and the height of power.' Interesting. Is that what life's all about?"

Again Maggie wrote. "I'm now asking, 'Is there a G.o.d?'" She placed the slip before the tench and all of them, even Ignatz Thugg, waited tensely.

The answer came.

You would not believe me.

"What's that mean?" Ignatz Thugg said hotly. "It doesn't mean nothing; that's what it means. Doesn't mean."

"But it's the truth," Russell pointed out. "If it said no, you wouldn't believe it. Would you?" He turned questioningly toward Maggie.