Free The Well of Darkness by Randall Garrett

vault.
    “That could have been done only through Troman’s Way. The guards who searched Gharlas’s home had no more fortune in finding the entrance than has anyone else in the generations since Troman used that passageway to meet his women. If you came
through
it, you know how to get
into
it—tell me.”
    “The door is on the right-hand side of the entry door,” I said. “A wall panel slides back, and you go through sideways to a small landing, and then stairs. But Gharlas opened it, and I couldn’t do it again.”
    “How did he open it?” Indomel demanded.
    “Pressure on the nearby floor tiles, a complicated pattern. I couldn’t tell you which tiles, what order—anything about it, only that I’m pretty sure that’s the way he opened the door.”
    Indomel thought about that. “The vault has similar tiles, that date from about the same period,” he mused. “The same method—where is the vault door located?” he asked.
    “Behind the big tapestry—on the other side of the vault from where you must have found Gharlas’s body. That’s as close as I can pinpoint it.”
    Indomel smiled. “Well, I expect that’s sufficient. It is only a matter of time before I can discover the correct combination.”
    It
‘
s only a matter of time
, I thought,
before a computerized random selection of alpha characters and spaces recreates Hamlet
‘
s soliloquy. A matter of a lot of time. Good luck.
    “One more question,” Indomel said. “Why are you involved in this?”
    Uh-oh.
I blinked dazedly at Indomel for about three seconds, worrying furiously the entire time. Then I thought:
Sorry, Tarani, but this seems the safer course.
    “The man who made the duplicate Ra’ira was Volitar.” At the edge of my vision, I saw Zefra twitch. Tarani never moved a muscle. “I met Tarani and Thymas on their way to visit him, when they still thought Volitar was her father. I tagged along because of Tarani, and happened to be there … Gharlas killed Volitar, but couldn’t force Tarani to give him the second duplicate. Between her looks and her power, Gharlas figured out that Tarani was Zefra’s daughter. Tarani was determined to come to Eddarta to meet Zefra and defeat Gharlas’s plans. Thymas and I came with her … to protect her,” I ended, unable to hide the bitterness I felt.
    Some of that was true, some false. But it seemed to satisfy Indomel, and I marked that down as one assessment of his character:
He likes simple solutions.
    “All right,” he said, and I felt the compulsion drop away abruptly.
    I relaxed with a sigh of relief. Accepting that compulsion without really responding to it had been a terrific strain. I wasn’t sure what “mental muscles” I used at times like that, but I knew it cost a lot of energy. But I wasn’t griping. I felt, in fact, as though I was really ahead, for a change—I’d kept Indomel ignorant of my specialness.
    The feeling of victory vanished when Indomel put away the Ra’ira, stepped into the waiting area, and opened the outer door. “Get Obilin,” he ordered, then came back into the room. “You may now say your farewells to the lady Tarani,” he said. “It
is
the last time you will see her.”
    Protests of all kinds gathered in my throat, but I put them aside for the one thing which seemed immediately important. “Can we speak privately?” I asked.
    “I’m sure that Obilin is eager to accept charge of you,
Guardsman
,” he said. “Don’t waste what time you have making ridiculous requests.”
    Tarani had moved around the chairs; I stood up to meet her. She was guarded, restrained, conscious of the people watching. I was full of grief and guilt and bitterness. In silence, I pulled her into my arms.
    There was no passion between us in that moment, but an acknowledgment of linkage, of bonding, of being a single unit no matter what physical distance separated us. And somehow, in the midst of every evil thing that surrounded us and the seemingly impossible struggle that