Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [235]
"A large chap with bristly hair? That sounds like him. Then, after you'd been finessed into activating the Mark III, he would take over in your place, whilst you were gathered in by the local constabulary. The first part of the plan succeeded—but you slipped out of his hands somehow."
"Well—I guess I should be grateful to Luppo for that. But how did you get your own shape back?"
Jorlemagne chuckled. "I put Quelius on the spot—with your help, of course. When I pointed the sonic gun at him, he panicked and shifted back into his own body—which of course displaced me from it, to resume my own. Which in turn forced the pig personality back into its pig-body, etc, etc." Jorlemagne wagged his head. "I came to myself leaning against the royal pigsty, looking yearningly at a prize sow."
"Well—this isn't finding Quelius," O'Leary said. "How did he do that disappearing act? One second they were here, and the next—phhtt!"
"The Mark III is a more versatile device than you suspect." Jorlemagne looked grave. "Now—the next problem is to deduce where he's taken her."
"That way," O'Leary said, closing his eyes and pointing. "About ten and a half miles."
"Eh? How do you know, my boy?"
"It's just a little trick I picked up from Tazlo Haz. Now let's call out the guard and—"
"A crowd of locals would merely complicate matters," Jorlemagne cut in. "You and I, lad—we'll have to tackle him alone."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
At the door the sage paused, motioned with his left forefinger; at once, the clamor in the room broke out in full force.
"Magic?" Lafayette gulped.
"Don't be silly," Jorlemagne snorted. "Microhypnotics, nothing more."
"So that's why you were always playing with your fingers—I mean, Lom's fingers."
"Quelius' fingers, to be precise. He's a clever man, but he lacks the necessary digital dexterity for microhypnotics and manipulation. Pity. It would have saved a spot of bother."
"Well, we still have a spot of bother ahead. It's a hard half hour's ride, and we're wasting time."
The stable attendants stumbled over each other to accommodate them; five minutes later, mounted on stout Arabian stallions, they cantered out through the gates, galloped full tilt through the echoing street, and out along the dark road to the north.
5
The peak loomed like a giant shard of black glass into the night sky.
"High Tor, it's called," O'Leary said. "They're up there—I'm sure of it. But why there?"
"The entire formation is riddled with passages," Jorlemagne said, as the horses, winded by the run, picked their way up the slope of rubble that led to the base of the mesa. "It's a natural volcanic core, left standing after the cone weathered away. Quelius spent considerable time and effort tunneling it out, under the pretext that it was to be an undercover observation station. I'll wager the Distorter gear is installed somewhere inside it. And he won't waste any time getting it in full operation, if I know Quelius—and I do."
"Well—produce one of those gadgets of yours," O'Leary urged impatiently. "I want to feel that stringy neck in my hands!"
"It's not to be quite so simple as that, my lad. My pockets are empty, I fear."
"Climbing that would be like going up the side of an apartment house," O'Leary said as he stared up at the vertical wall rising before him. He dismounted, scanned the rockface, picked a spot, hoisted himself up a few feet—and came tumbling back as his grip slipped on the smooth stone.
"A human fly couldn't go up that," he said. "We should have brought the field artillery along, and blasted a hole through it!"
"Well—we didn't," Jorlemagne said. "And since we can't walk through solid walls, we'll have to think of something else . . ."
"Hey!" O'Leary said. "You may have given me an idea." He closed his eyes, willed his thoughts back to the moment in Thallathlone when he had stood in the sealed chamber hollowed from the giant tree, abandoned there to merge—or die. He remembered the smell of the waxed, resinous wood, the sensation as he had stepped forward, pressed against and through the iron-hard wood . .