Read Online Chalker, Jack L. - Well of Souls 02 by Exiles At the Well of Souls - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Exiles At the Well of Souls
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It was not dark outside, but there was no one in view, and she was quick despite the vertical drop.
The trick was a tiny little bubble, several of which she carried in her belt. The bubble, no larger than the head of a pin, formed an incredibly thin secretion that created tremendous suction when rubbed between the palms of her hands. It had been her special secret of success in burglary; she had created the stuff herself.
She descended thirty meters in seconds. Taking refuge behind some bushes, she rubbed her hands, causing the substance to solidify and ball up, then fall away. The stuff didn't last long, but it was excellent for thirty or forty seconds.
She would have preferred darkness, but there was no darkness beneath the reflective plasma dome. Daylight would have to do.
Creeping around the side of the central building, she heard voices and froze. When they continued in a sort of rhythmic chant, she ventured out, keeping close to the walls and cover, then looked in on one of the open plazas. Four women, dressed as the servants had been, were practicing some sort of dance to the tune of a lyrelike instrument played by another of them. They all seemed to move in that dreamy state, oblivious to the world. Something was odd in their appearance.
They were too beautiful, Mavra decided. Incredibly, almost deformed in their sexual characteristics, the type of dream girl lovesick prospectors bought pictures of. Their movements, too, seemed unusual; there was a sense of total femininity there, as if they might be some sort of mythological fertility goddesses. Such manners and moves were eerie, unnatural, even a little inhuman. They were more erotic caricatures of people than real human beings.
She decided not to test their apparent dreaminess, though; she needed someone alone.
The little world seemed to keep Trelig's hours; few were about. She wished she knew exactly how many people were on the planetoid; it didn't seem like many.
Slipping into the next building, a lower but still grand marble structure, she practically ran into someone. The young woman was average-looking, a little unkempt, and had dirty feet. She was nude. Next to her stood a bucket on three little wheels. She was down on all fours, and, as Mavra watched, she realized the woman was scrubbing the marble floor with a stiff brush.
Mavra looked around but saw no sign of anyone else. Quietly she stepped out and started toward the woman, whose back and rear were open to her as she made her way slowly backing down the hall.
Mavra straightened her right little finger while clenching the others. The straightening made the little injector head reach the tip of the nail.
The woman noticed something odd before Mavra reached her. When she turned around, she saw the small, black-covered woman.
"Hi!" she said, a crooked smile on her face. Mavra looked down at her with pity. The expression was simple, the eyes dull and blank; A spongie, Mavra realized. She stooped to the woman's level.
"Hi, yourself," she responded kindly. "What's your name?"
"Hiv— Hivi— " the woman struggled, then she turned sheepish. "I can't say it good no more."
Mavra nodded sympathetically. "Okay, Hivi. I'm Cat. Will you tell me something?"
The woman nodded slowly. "If I can."
"Do you know somebody called Nikki Zinder?"
The woman looked blank. "I don't 'member names so good, like I told ya."
"Well, is there any place they keep people here who never come out?" Mavra tried.
The girl shook her head uncomprehendingly. Mavra sighed. Obviously Hivi or whatever her name was was too far gone on the drug to tell her what she needed. She decided on another tack.
"Well, do you have a boss, then? Somebody who tells you where to clean?"
The girl nodded. "Ziv do it."
"Where is Ziv now?" Mavra prodded.
The woman looked blank, then brightened for a moment. "Down there," she replied, pointing away down the hall.
Mavra was tempted just to leave her there; the girl was no threat. However, Hivi
The trick was a tiny little bubble, several of which she carried in her belt. The bubble, no larger than the head of a pin, formed an incredibly thin secretion that created tremendous suction when rubbed between the palms of her hands. It had been her special secret of success in burglary; she had created the stuff herself.
She descended thirty meters in seconds. Taking refuge behind some bushes, she rubbed her hands, causing the substance to solidify and ball up, then fall away. The stuff didn't last long, but it was excellent for thirty or forty seconds.
She would have preferred darkness, but there was no darkness beneath the reflective plasma dome. Daylight would have to do.
Creeping around the side of the central building, she heard voices and froze. When they continued in a sort of rhythmic chant, she ventured out, keeping close to the walls and cover, then looked in on one of the open plazas. Four women, dressed as the servants had been, were practicing some sort of dance to the tune of a lyrelike instrument played by another of them. They all seemed to move in that dreamy state, oblivious to the world. Something was odd in their appearance.
They were too beautiful, Mavra decided. Incredibly, almost deformed in their sexual characteristics, the type of dream girl lovesick prospectors bought pictures of. Their movements, too, seemed unusual; there was a sense of total femininity there, as if they might be some sort of mythological fertility goddesses. Such manners and moves were eerie, unnatural, even a little inhuman. They were more erotic caricatures of people than real human beings.
She decided not to test their apparent dreaminess, though; she needed someone alone.
The little world seemed to keep Trelig's hours; few were about. She wished she knew exactly how many people were on the planetoid; it didn't seem like many.
Slipping into the next building, a lower but still grand marble structure, she practically ran into someone. The young woman was average-looking, a little unkempt, and had dirty feet. She was nude. Next to her stood a bucket on three little wheels. She was down on all fours, and, as Mavra watched, she realized the woman was scrubbing the marble floor with a stiff brush.
Mavra looked around but saw no sign of anyone else. Quietly she stepped out and started toward the woman, whose back and rear were open to her as she made her way slowly backing down the hall.
Mavra straightened her right little finger while clenching the others. The straightening made the little injector head reach the tip of the nail.
The woman noticed something odd before Mavra reached her. When she turned around, she saw the small, black-covered woman.
"Hi!" she said, a crooked smile on her face. Mavra looked down at her with pity. The expression was simple, the eyes dull and blank; A spongie, Mavra realized. She stooped to the woman's level.
"Hi, yourself," she responded kindly. "What's your name?"
"Hiv— Hivi— " the woman struggled, then she turned sheepish. "I can't say it good no more."
Mavra nodded sympathetically. "Okay, Hivi. I'm Cat. Will you tell me something?"
The woman nodded slowly. "If I can."
"Do you know somebody called Nikki Zinder?"
The woman looked blank. "I don't 'member names so good, like I told ya."
"Well, is there any place they keep people here who never come out?" Mavra tried.
The girl shook her head uncomprehendingly. Mavra sighed. Obviously Hivi or whatever her name was was too far gone on the drug to tell her what she needed. She decided on another tack.
"Well, do you have a boss, then? Somebody who tells you where to clean?"
The girl nodded. "Ziv do it."
"Where is Ziv now?" Mavra prodded.
The woman looked blank, then brightened for a moment. "Down there," she replied, pointing away down the hall.
Mavra was tempted just to leave her there; the girl was no threat. However, Hivi
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