The Parallel Man by Richard Purtill Read Free Book Online Page A

Droste,” I said as casually as I could manage. “Justinian Droste, I think, who had some sort of connection with that group.”
    Benton grinned. “Oh yes, Droste is quite a big noise here at Home, though you may not have heard of him. Always on the 3V or in the latest fax, complaining about someone being deprived of their rights.” He laughed. “Been looking a bit silly today, though. Had a big case built up against some scientist for experimentation on humans. Then his star witness or chief exhibit, the man who was the victim of the experiments, disappeared. Without him Droste has no case. Joke is Droste’s own principles are getting in the way of looking for the man. Since he’s a citizen he has a right to privacy. They can’t even broadcast a holo of him, only appeal for him to come forward. Droste claims the man’s been kidnapped, but his evidence isn’t too strong. For all anyone knows, he just got tired of the food at Central Receiving and decided to check himself out informally.”
    Most of this was meaningless to me, but at least it assured me that Droste was a man of some note, who could be found if I wanted to find him. Since Droste seemed to know something about how I had come to this city of the enchanters, I might have to seek him out eventually.
    I was tired enough of his hunting tales to pretend more interest than I really felt. I made some noncommittal noise, which encouraged Benton to go on. “Story just broke,” he said, “but it should be in the fax by now. Let’s see.” He touched something on the arm of his chair and from a slit in a bow table by his side came a thin sheet of some flimsy parchment-like material, covered with writing. “Ah yes, here it is on the first sheet,” said Benton, “with a backup on another sheet, which I’ll key if you’re interested.” He handed me the sheet, which was covered with writing in small square characters which it took me a moment to master, though I am a fair scribe. In large letters at the top of the sheet were the words, “CLU Head Accuses Academician,” then my hand clenched on the sheet, crumpling it in involuntary betrayal of my emotions. For under those words were two pictures, more vivid and lifelike than any painting I had ever seen in church or castle. One showed the face of Justinian Droste looking as I had seen him from my bed soon after I awoke. The other face, staring out at me from the picture with a saturnine glower, was that of my tutor and guardian, Mortifer the Enchanter!

5. Benton Hall
    After the first shock, it almost seemed inevitable. Mortifer was an enchanter, I was in a land of enchanters, so surely he must have played some part in bringing me here. I had never entirely trusted Mortifer, despite my respect for my father, who had trusted the enchanter so well that he set him over me as my tutor and guardian. Despite his outward suavity and respectful air, Mortifer had always struck me as a cold man who regarded other people only as pieces in some elaborate game. Perhaps he had brought me to this land to play some part in some game of his; well, he would find me an unwieldy tool. I remembered that as a youth I had sometimes outwitted better players at board games by moving my pieces about almost at random and letting them wrack their brains to discover the elaborate stratagems they thought lay behind my moves. I was doing much the same in this deadlier game, keeping on the move and in disguise, hoping that one of my random moves would lead to some advantage for me.
    Benton had not noticed my agitation, for he was intent on another sheet of the same kind as the one he had handed me. “Doesn’t really say much,” he complained. “The backup is all details on the careers of the two men and the original story didn’t say all that much either, just hints that Mortifer had been caught more or less red-handed experimenting on humans and that Droste had the alleged subject of the experiments. Then there was a late break