Jack L. Chalker - Watcher At The Well 03 by Gods At The Well

Author:Gods At The Well [Well, Gods At The]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2011-02-15T02:00:32.219000+00:00

Lori had tried to keep track of how long the nightmare journey had taken, but either exhaustion or the creeping dullness in his mind had made it impossible. It certainly seemed like forever, particularly with that very heavy bastard on his back urging him on and making him miss needed water and food stops.

Still, the guy had to sleep and drink, too, so there'd been just enough of a break to survive. How much did these ducklike things weigh, anyway?

Still, once in the warehouse, he'd slept the sleep of the dead, and when he woke up, still feeling pain in every joint, he was at least able to eat and drink.

Still totally confused by what had happened and why he was back here instead of there, he nonetheless started to get the idea that things weren't normal on this end, either. There were lots of Cloptans around, including many he'd never seen before. They were all frantically loading stuff into huge vans that pulled up one after the other, and he realized that they were emptying the place.

Maybe the good guys finally won one, he thought hopefully. Not that it would do him much good. They were clearly just shifting operations for a while, and where did mat leave him? Either they'd shoot him or they'd take him with them to put on some other courier run. It wouldn't even matter if somebody found him. What would they see? A nice little horse with a horn, that was all. Too small for real horse work and, as a gelding, not handy for any other reason. How could he even contact somebody else to tell them he was more than he seemed?

More important, would it make any difference? It was getting harder and harder to remember things. Not just little things, big things. Before he was a horse he'd been a man, but a man who did what? He had memories of a desert and some tent towns and a city by a big wall, and he remembered a woman of the same race, but even she was kind of blurry. And before that there had been someone, something else, but that was so distant and so confusing, he wasn't sure about it. He tried frantically to think, to remember. I'm not a horse! I'm a ...

But he was a horse. He couldn't get around that. No matter who or what he'd been, he was now a horse. He was always going to be a horse. What was the use of fighting it, of dredging up those old memories, of worrying about things that he could not do anything about?

Someone .. . somebody else ... had struggled with a big change, and it had driven them nuts. The woman. And when they'd stopped fighting and accepted who and what they were, they were finally able to find some happiness, to stop torturing themselves.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he should just stop trying to be anything else and accept it. Stop the thinking, the remembering, the deep thoughts.

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