Lilith: A Snake in the Grass by Jack Chalker

Author:Jack Chalker [Chalker, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf
Published: 1981-09-30T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Too Dangerous to Have Around

1 slept fitfully, wrestling with my headache, and awoke several times to the stillness around me. Several times I thought someone had come into the room, and once I had a strong feeling that at least one individual was actually in the room standing next to the bed, looking down at me in deep thought. A mysterious figure, a wraith, yet huge, looming, dark, indistinct, powerful—the stuff of which children’s nightmares are made, yet so compelling you hesitate to open your eyes and see if anybody’s really there. I cursed myself for this reaction, for giving in to primal fears I never even knew I had, but that terrible feeling remained. Finally I shamed myself into a peek, but the room was dark and apparently empty.

I was just about to turn over and try and get back to sleep when my ears picked up a slight sound near the door. I froze, half in caution and half hi—I was ashamed to admit to myself—fear of that nameless childish boogeyman.

“Tremon!” I heard a soft, female whisper.

Suddenly wide awake, I sat up cautiously. Fear had given way to puzzled curiosity now that another presence was tangible.

“Here!” I whispered.

A figure approached easily, not at all bothered by the darkness, and crouched down beside me. Although I could see only a slight form in the near-total darkness, I knew it was Vola.

“What’s the matter?” I whispered.

“Tremon, you have to get out of here,” she told me. “They’re going to kill you before morning. There has just been a meeting about you with all the big shots present.”

I remembered Artur’s warning. So I had gone too far for prudence despite all the logic at my command.

“Now, listen carefully,” she continued. “Tin not going to let them do it. Not even if what they say is true. I’ve seen your kind of potential too rarely here, and I won’t see it nipped in the bud.”

I frowned and sat on the side of the bed. “What did they say?”

“That you aren’t Cal Tremon,” she whispered. “That you’re some sort of assassin sent here by the Confederacy to kill Lord Kreegan.”

“What!” I exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly. All traces of fatigue and headache vanished as the adrenaline started flowing.

“Shhh … I don’t know how much time we have—maybe none,” she cautioned. “Still, I like you enough to give you a fighting chance.” She hesitated a moment. “Is it true?”

I owed her an answer, but this wasn’t the time for honor. “I don’t know what they’re talking about,” I replied as sincerely as I could. “Hell, my prints, genetic coding—everything is on file. You ought to know I couldn’t be -anybody but me, and believe me, the last thing Cal Tremon could be is a Confederacy stooge.”

“Maybe,” she responded uncertainly. “But even in-system the Cerbrians swap bodies all the tune, so I wouldn’t depend too much on that defense. Look, it doesn’t matter to me, I—what was that?”

We both remained perfectly still, not even breathing.

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