the KHAN GAME

by

Thomas R.

Jerry Wright

Marian

Alexander Thomson

John Thiel

Carcharias

and Byron Bailey

Is it a gestalt production?  Is it virtual reality?  Be sure to decide for yourselves what elements comprise this work of fiction. This tale of alternate realities is perhaps the most ghostly you will ever read.

photoart by John Thiel.  Last two illustrations are by Ramos Fumes and Maxine Colby, respectively.

This effort at group-writing was composed at the Asimov's SF Magazine Forum

Sigismund Sobieski, generally called “Siggie” for his love of cigars as much as for his name, was enjoying this long train trip from Minsk to Karakorum .  After all, it gave him the time to practice the skills he'd need in the capital of the great Khan.

     Those skills?  Gambling, fraud, and general huckstering.  And the Silk Express was a great place to practice all these things.  The place was more full of cheats and card-sharps than the average prison in Minsk , as he knew from experience. Being the master among this crew could make or break his dream.  Still, even if he could beat them, he might fail against the greatest crook of all.  The Great Khan of Karakorum .  The man he admired and hated beyond all men.  The man he had to humiliate.

     It was his nature to humiliate the Khan.  With skills as diverse as gambling, fraud and general huckstering, Sigismund could only be one thing, a capitolist.  As a capitolist, humiliating others was in his nature.  By the time he finished, he would own the Great Khan, the Great Khan's wives, and Karakorum itself.  In fact, he would own everything but his soul.

     “ Hsst ,” a sinister voice spoke behind him. “No!  Don't turn around.  Don't look at me.  Besides, I'm not behind you.  I'm in the ceiling above you.  But I heard you mumbling to yourself that you would soon own the Great Khan and everything he has but his soul.  I want you to know you're wrong.  I can get you his soul.  You want the soul of the Great Khan? How much will you pay?”

     Actually the soul in question had been Sigismund's own, the soul he had endangered and would lose by playing dirty.  The thought had originally been a moral injunction.  But the misinterpretation that had been made interested Siggie.  He was well experienced with people claiming weird things.  Unlike his own people, the Poles, the Russians were an intensely superstitious and backward lot.  The Khanate had not treated them quite as well and enjoyed using their superstitions to rule them.  Hence in Russia he knew people who played the “mystical powers” game.  Technically he was outside the center of Russia now, but it was a popular trick in Central Asia as well.

     He should ignore it then, but it might be worth it to have a laugh.  “The ceiling above me, you say?  There's a hidden compartment up there then?”

     “I said that I am in the ceiling above you.  I said nothing of compartments.”

     Siggie frowned.  “What are you claiming to be, a demon?”

     “Full.  Money mad blind little fool.  Do you think the only beings that can get one a soul are demons?  How blind are you?”

     “Blind enough.”  Siggie was growing impatient, like the impatienta plants in his home gardens.  “Actually, I don't think anything or anyone can get me a soul.  Good day to you, whatever you are.”

     “You did not always feel thus.  As a child you read of Faustus and said the prayer to Michael.  You were afraid they meant demons would take your soul or trick it from you.  You no longer feared when you lost your soul of your own choice.  Remember?”

     Sigismund did indeed.  The demon might have been referring to the prototypical Pole's life experience, but it was too intimate a visualization to ignore.  How had the demon known this?  He thought back.  Casimir had known him then.  But he hadn't seen him in years.  Besides, this fear was one he never spoke aloud, not even to his priest when he was still a believer, so how could this demon know of it?  Inference?  There might be ways, but he would have to keep it talking to know.

     “So who are you claiming to be?”

     “A Wraith, a Ghost, a Phantom, an Alien.  Take your pick.  It doesn't matter as they are all the same.  Males.  Now of my price.”

     “I've won two hundred gold pieces on the trip so far, but I won't give you anything of what I came with.”

     “I don't want money.”

     Siggie found that bizarre.  He still believed it was a huckster, somehow, but why not want money?  “What do you want, then?”

     “You will find someone.  She will feel you with joy.  When the time is right I will get you his soul and you will give me hers.”

     That was all?  Women come and go.  Who cared?  His goals involved an entire empire, not a mere woman.  “Fine, then, she'll be yours.”

     Catherine Pahlavi boarded the train at the next stop.  Karakorum lay only 100 miles away.  There she would be beyond the Shah's reach forever.  There she would make her play at the jewels she most desired.  As well as another play at a prize she did not yet know.

     It was a fatal meeting.  Catherine would have been the seductionist in THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV had that novel existed.  Otherwise, she had all the qualifications she needed to seduce a professional wastrel.  Her ankles were as described in the now-nonexistent novel.

     That was the first sight Sig had of her as he looked morosely at the floor.  Her approach to his seat, saying to others as she approached, “I'd rather sit with a schmoe than the Commissar of the Hussars.”  He fell immediately under the spell of the barely-revealed ankle.  He had been dreaming something up during the trip.  First he had thought he'd challenge the Khan with a game of strip-poker (one can well imagine this aspect of his scheme blowing out of his mind) as, win or lose, the Khan would be humiliated just to have participated in the game.  Then he had imagined a game of psychic strip-poker, an imagining not traceable to the now-not-extant DEMOLISHED MAN with its game of “Sardine.”  Finally he had been concocting a game of strip-poker for souls, to have the two prior aspects of the game with new additions.  But now, confronted with the reality of such visualizations, he gave it up and started trying to decide on another tack.  But—was this the woman who had been sent?  In that case, he would have to think of a way to gain her soul.  He had practical experience—he knew the game of soul-stealing well.  But he decided he would have to gain her ear first.

     “Ahem, madame,” he said.  “Your slip is showing.  I meant, of course, your transfer ticket.”

     She laughed at his lame joke.  He felt slightly disoriented at the rush of non-existent books that had just gone through his mind.  He heard a quiet laugh from the ceiling, but refused to concede the…whatever it was…had implanted anything in his mind.  To be honest, he still thought it could be a trick, but he had agreed to its terms in case it was real.  Some day he would regret that, but not today.  Today he listened to her respond by saying, “Almost ashamed the other kind of slip wasn't showing.”

     “Is madame serious?”

     She smiled.  “What do you think?” Then she added, “Let me introduce myself.  I'm Catherine Pahlavi.”

     He considered how to play this.  “That name sounds familiar.  Isn't it the name of the Persian royal house?”

     She gave a glum smile.  “Yes.  Excepting the Inca and Abyssinians we're the only independent royal house left outside the Khanate.”

     He beamed.  “You mean you are Persian royalty?  How remarkable!  How did you get the name Catherine?  I just have so many questions.  This is so exciting.”

     She smiled and thought, “I bet you do.”  The man was playing some variant of Polish yokel.  It obviously wasn't his best gambit, but aristocratic women did seem to fall for it these days.

     This was a good sign, though.  If he were secret police he wouldn't be using the Polish yokel.  They wanted information first and then maybe money or a bribe.  If your main goal is information you don't ask a royal a bunch of stupid questions in the first five minutes.  Still she kept her answers non-committal or false whenever possible.  Just because he wasn't secret police didn't mean he wouldn't sell her out to them if the price merited it.

     The real truth was that her connection to the Shah ran through his great uncle Ali.  Ali had been banished from the family for funneling money to Swiss freedom fighters.  They had these grand dreams of breaking free of the Mongols to create some kind of Confederation where the populace chose their rulers.

     Obviously this idea was pure insanity.  The general populace is never informed enough to be fit to vote.  The will of the majority is the will of an unjust mob.  So elections have to be based on the will of the moral and intellectual elite, on that the Khanate was right.  Still, she admired her grandfather's principles even if she disagreed with them.  She, however, was simply a thief.  A thief who hoped to be very rich very soon because they had now arrived in Karakorum .

     Korakorum is a place where they believe in giving arrivals the best treatment in order to set them up.  They are very helpful about getting people where they are going and enabling them to achieve whatever purposes they may have, and there is never an irate or objectionable word spoken, unless by the arrivals.  Catherine and Siggie both believed in taking advantage of this, and responded to their politeness with politeness.  “The gentleman and the lady are married, perhaps?” an official asked.

     “Only in the sense of having shared the same seat,” Siggie answered.

     “But I think we will be touring the area together,” Catherine said.  “I am interested in his itinerary and I believe he is interested in mine.”

     “He might well be,” the official said gallantly.  “Everybody might be.  Here there is great interest in such matters.  But I think you might first want to visit the Grand Room, where travelers relax and plan what they will do.  And I will show you the way to that.  Here we don't send you out into the woods, is it not so?”

     “Sounds like it,” Siggie said as they followed him.

     The official gave them a pleasant overview and description of the territory.  “A seat doth not a marriage make,” he quipped as they entered the Grand Room.  As both the visitors seemed to want corroboration of the remark, he added, “Not even a Moscow love-seat from Smollinsk.”

     As a capitolist, Sigismund was familiar with all the great Capitol buildings of the three Empires.  The marvelous pyramids of the Incas, the great granite halls of Fortress Khartoum, all fell short of the grandeur of Karakorum .  The tax levies that torrented into the proud center of the Khanate had been spent on monuments and buildings and corruption.  But it was acceptable, as the Great Khan still lived in an imposing tent on the outskirts of his Capital, and for amusement would occasionally send his hordes in to play at death and slavery.

     It was early when Khan awoke.  Yes, very early; that's why he was so surprised when he heard a voice.  NO ONE SHOULD BE IN HIS ROOM!!!

     “Hello Khhhhhhhhhhhan,” a voice hissed.  “I need to talk to you.”

     “How did you get in here?”  He waited a few seconds.  “How did you get in HERE!”  He reached under his pillow and pulled out his pistol.  He had placed it there just in case such an emergency should arise.  “Where are you?  Show yourself!”

     “Fine.”  The being walked out of the shadows.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Click

     “Now that you got that out of your system, can we talk?”  The bullets fell from mid-air where they had been floating.

     “WHAT ARE YOU!!!!!!!!”  Now Khan was scared.  None of his political enemies could do that.  This thing was totally other-worldly.

     “I have a proposition for you,” it said calmly.  “Your soul for immortality.  You know at best you only have twenty years to live.  All your doctors say so.  I offer you natural immortality.”

     A harsh laugh escaped Khan's throat.  “NATURAL immortality?  There's no such thing.  And even if there was, who are you to offer it to me—a demon?”

     The being walked even closer.  “There is such a thing.  It means you won't die unless killed.  And as for what I am, I am a demon…and an angel.”

     Khan thought that over.  The one question that came to his mind was—what would a demon or angel do with my soul if I live forever?  The only thing a soul is good for is making the dead into phantoms.

     The demon heard his thoughts.  “I will not kill you or have you killed.  It's just that if you do get killed I could have your soul.  But you know it's unlikely, at least as of now.  Do we have a deal?”

     A contract appeared on the bed.  “Do I have to sign this in blood?”

     The demon smirked and a pen fell onto the bed too.  “No, a pen will be fine.”

     The Khan considered.  This demon/angel thing would own him if he were killed.  It indicated this was unlikely and indeed it was.  He had the best security in the world and had killed most of the groups that could assassinate him.  Still, decades from now, new groups could arise.  If he lived centuries that would draw even more anger or the Abyssinians and Persians could get their act together by that time.  They did have plenty of resources at their…

     “Do we have a deal, oh great Khan?”

     “Can you assure me being killed is unlikely?”

     The being answered, “Your guards assure it.”

     “I need more than that.”

     The being: “If there were no chance you'd be killed then there would be no chance of benefit for me.  What kind of dealer would make such a deal?”

     The Great Khan smiled.  Even among demon/angel things you could relate. Or he could.  He liked that.  Still—“I'm just concerned…”

     The being was becoming impatient.  “You have my word no relative, rival politician, Abyssinian, or Inca will kill you.”

     The Khan considered.  Those options for assassin closed he felt confident he'd live centuries.  Plus serving this being centuries from now could be interesting.  “Very well, then.”

     The being considered how revolting humans were, and not for the first time.  They actually considered this person a great leader and a soul worth taking.  The being did not.  It simply made this deal to achieve its real goal: to get the soul of the fair Catherine.

     In part it wasn't just about Catherine.  It was about the drama and the pathos.  Two people, Catherine and Sigismund, who'd become incapable of loving anyone but themselves, would find each other as true loves.  Then they would be destroyed by bringing up the deal.  The Khan's soul for hers.  The emotional damage to Sigismund would be priceless.  More important, the effect these events would have on the khanate had an 83.78095% chance of reforming this dismal timeline.

     However, the fate of these dreary mortals did not personally concern the being that much.  Catherine was what mattered and Catherine was special.  She had a special “soul” that even she did not understand.  One they could use for their purposes.

     And who are they?  As stated from the beginning, the being calls itself many things to many people.  To some it is a wraith, to others an ancestral spirit, others a demon-angel, and in parts of England or Peru they believe in aliens from the stars so it is that as well.  What it really is is not for you to know, yet.  No one needs be told until the time is right, and really perhaps there is truth in all the lies it spread on itself.

     In the Grand Room,  Sigismund and Catherine played cards. In the course of this card game they would reveal their true histories to each other, begin their lofty schemes, and set in motion a horrendous yet glorious chain of events.  Indeed they would, but for now it is a simple game of cards, played while a demon-angel/wraith/alien/enigma smirks far away on the signing from a pen.

     There was little opportunity for the two mortals in the Grand Room to hear of the strange being's duplicity.  But they were now in a locale that is full of spies.  Several hundred had been spying on Khan, and of those seventy-nine were spirit-adepts able to see Khan's visitor, and of those fourteen knew of the prior visit to Sigismund, and of those four knew it was the same spirit, and of those one, beguiled by knowing the details of the scheme of this being, thought to report the matter to Sigismund.

     They were in the middle of cards when the spy arrived.  He made a psychic check and assured himself that the being was not at this time present and watchful, then noted that Siggy was in a personal conference with Catherine.  The spy knew who she was, the noted seductress.  He doubted that she would object to this information, and he slipped in between them, reckoning the alternating side of a rectangular table as a position of being between them.  “How much would the gentleman pay for some very relevant information about the being with whom he was consulting during his transportation?” the spy asked.

     “I'll buy anything that looks interesting,” Sigismund said.  “79 Rupees.”

     “Roubles?”

     “Don't be a cheapskate, Sigismund,” Catherine said.  “I'll buy if you don't.  I'll make it rubies.”

     They agreed to split on the purchase.  The spy asked them to move in closer.  “This being made a deal for the soul of the Khan,” he said in a low tone.  “If he is pretending to be objective about your visit to this man, he is not leveling with you.”

     “Well, I like that,” Sigismund said.

     “Do we pay him?” asked Catherine.

     “Certainly.  The information is worth what he required for it, and I am paying the full amount and suggest you do the same.”

     And they paid the man handsomely for the tip.

     Catherine was curious.  He'd explained a bit by now, but not everything.  “Why did you want the Khan's soul anyway?”

     “It's odd I didn't at first.  I thought the deal might be some kind of trick, so I played along to see what the angle was.”

     “But when you realized it was for real you didn't call it off.  So why did you want it?”

     “Because I want him to suffer.”  He was taken aback by that answer, but she had showed an ability to get him to be honest.  The wraith must've thought that would bring him joy, but in fact he found it disturbing.  She seemed unimpressed.

     “Well, of course, there's that, but is there anything else to it?”

     “I really am Polish,” he added.  “I'm from Lvov .  You know what that means, right?”

     Of course she did. Lvov had been a center for a Polish protest movement.  They wanted a constitution and the ability to organize their labor.  The Mongols could be remarkably lenient or repressive depending on the situation.  At first they just told the Poles that only the Chinese had those rights so they should return home.  For a year after that the protest continued, but the Mongols ignored it.  Then an earthquake increased the need for Polish engineers to Southeast Asia .  Most Poles agreed on humanitarian grounds, but those of Lvov refused.  So Lvov was destroyed.  Every man, woman and child was…hold on.  “I thought they killed everyone from Lvov .  That they even hunted the survivors.”

     He nodded.  “I had over seven aliases even then.  I used one to escape to Minsk and lived under it.”

     “What name did you use?”

     He smiled.  “Sigismund Sobieski.”

     She smiled back.  “So what does this wraith get out of the deal?”

     He frowned and muttered, “He's supposed to get you.”

     “What!!!!!”  She tried her best to stay calm.  She was the bargaining chip.  She stood up so fast her chair flew back.  The words he'd said revolved in her head.

     “I didn't mean it like that…”  He got up slowly.

     “YOU!”  She glared at him.  “You're going to pay.  Maybe even with your life!”  She knew that she didn't have much weight to make her threat a reality but she didn't care. She was enraged, the rage of a primal woman protecting herself.

     “Wait!”

     She ignored him, and walked out of the door.  She couldn't believe it.  She was hurt.  She was used to being double-crossed.  But she was the Master Seductress.  She had seduced kings, presidents, members of government, and thrown them away once she got what she wanted.  She wasn't used to feeling anything emotional for anyone, especially someone she hadn't slept with, that Beauty Rest.

     “Catherine, please wait!”  Sig was almost in tears.  That demon knew what he'd been talking about.  She will feel you with joy.  When the time is right I will get you his soul and you will get give me hers.

     He wouldn't even be able to trade in her soul.  He wouldn't get the soul of Khan either, although those were the last things on his mind.  The rest was concerned about her.  Women came and went but she wasn't just a woman, she was intelligent, worldly, sexy.

     But it might be for the better.  He couldn't bear to trade her for anything.  Even to make Khan his eternal slave.  He couldn't believe it.  The price was too high.

     He would have to pay a visit on the Khan himself.

m

     His effort to get to the Khan didn't prove as easy as all that.  It was a difficult area to cross, full of intrigues.  He went to the bazarr to get his mind off Catherine.  While there he noticed a man of Caucasian appearance buying a hat.  He thought he recognized him.  He looked closer and knew he did.  Still he tried a signal instead of speaking.  The man began to walk toward him.

     “Hey, all buddy, how long has it been?” Casimir said.

     Siggie extended his hand.  “Quite a few years, old friend.  Imagine seeing you here.”

     Casimir smiled.  “Yes, I moved out here years ago for work.  Things are more my speed.  Want a cigar?”

     This was something of a code. It asked if he still used the Sigismund alias. The rest meant there was some illegal enterprise drawing Casimir here, and he was having more success here than he did in Europe . Sig took the cigar, then stated seriously, “Is there a place we can talk?”

     “Sure, my friend.  For you, Siggie, anything!”

     At his room Casimir's personum dropped off.  He became the cautious career criminal he'd always been.  He said, “In the Khan's capitol people are watching always.  The two mirrors are one-way windows allowing you to be observed.  I blocked the way with luggage in a way that avoided suspicion.  I disabled the other listening devices similarly and the room is now clear.”

     “Won't these activities arouse suspicion?”

     Casimir shook his head.  “I'm only staying here a few days. I have a job to do in town with a woman named Catherine.  She's Persian, so you wouldn't know her.  She said when she got here I'd be on a team of diamond thieves she's working to put together.  We're going to steal the Khan's jewels, then sell them on the black market of the Inca Empire.”

     Sigismund felt hopeless.  “Catherine Pahlavi?”

     “Why yes, how did you know?”

     “Oh, just a lucky guess.”

     “So what did you want to tell me about, Stan?”

     “Stanislav?  You know, I went by fake names so long my real one almost doesn't feel like mine any more.  It's weird, huh?”

     “I guess.  What's eating you?”

     “I don't have the heart to say.”  But he told him the story.  “What do you think?”

     “I think you're insane.  None of that could've happened.  I mean I've heard stories of beings in the Taklamakan desert, but they're just stories.  Beings like djinn who came from a fire in the sky.”

     “Do you think this thing is a djinn?”

     “No, I think it's some kind of alien.  I think I might know of a way to beat it, as well as humiliate the Khan and get the girl.”

     “I don't know if I even want her any more.  Anyway, what's your ideas?”

     “Chaos and confusion tactics.  That's easily enough accomplished.  If you get together with me nobody'll know what either of us are doing.”

     “Well, if you can find Catherine, you're doing better than me.”

     “These beings are very far into their plans, as you've noticed.  Change them and they get upset or angry.  That creature demanded her soul and became much more hostile because your relationship with her wasn't going as planned.”

     “I enjoyed her and loved her.  That was as planned.”

     “No, it wasn't.  Because you had reservations and then you fought.  That's where chaos and confusion steps in.  We have to do something it can't expect or calculate in advance.”

     “That won't work.  I still have to get Catherine's soul or it'll destroy me.”

     Casimir smiled.  “I think the deal was  ‘You will find someone.  She will feel you with joy.  When the time is right I will get you his soul and you will give me hers.'  Did any one woman since then touch you in any way and seem to enjoy it?”

     Siggie smiled too.  “Yes, he did say ‘feel' instead of ‘fill.'  I thought that was an accent.  However I don't think anyone else would fit except this old woman who patted my cheeks and happily called me ‘Jerome,' thinking I was her long-lost son.”

     Casimir smiled.  “How much did you score off her?”

     He frowned.  “It turned out she had so little I decided it wasn't worth it.  I just took her son's pocketknife as a trophy.”

     “Find that woman.”

     Siggie was uncertain.  “He doesn't want her though, and she's not involved in this.”

     “It doesn't matter.  The wording of the deal means you can confuse him for a time with this, remember?”

     “But what about meeting the Khan and getting Catherine?”

     Casimir brushed it off.  “Leave that to me, my old friend.  Ahh it's just like old times is it not?  Except with alien monsters and higher stakes. “

k

     Catherine felt disturbed and confused.  She knew she'd upset Siggie and that she cared surprised her.  This man had pledged her soul to some monster or something.  What right did he have to do that?  Wasn't it her soul?  Didn't it belong to her?  She should be mad as Shayol at that creep.  Yet…

     There was something about him.  He could be as cold, calculating, and ruthless as she could.  Yet like her he never hurt anyone in need.  They both had a heart.  Hers was beginning to soften and in a way she liked that.  Then he betrayed her and all the veil, metaphorically speaking, of courtly ways left her.

     Enough self-pity.  She did not fear for her soul because it was hers.  He couldn't trick her into giving it to some monster.  So she should get back to her original plans:  contacting Casimir and preparing to steal the jewels.  Yet what was going to be the greatest achievement in her career, something to make her noted as more than a seductress, seemed like an empty ritual now.  She supposed she'd have to ask the guys at the Ren-Ren café if they could get in touch with Casimir, but no sooner did she think that than there he was in front of her.

     “Casimir the Dragon, lady!” Casimir reintroduced himself.  “And I've brought a friend!  Look like anyone you know?”

     “I knew him when,” Catherine said, taking in the somewhat shambling aspect of Siggy.  “Where have you been, did you spin-off taking a foray into the New Culture?”

     “I'm going to look up Khan, I'll say it briefly.  I was going to say that I won't follow up the demon's orders.  I've promised him anything but I'll give him trash.  I'm more interested in investigating him.”

     Catherine wondered if this bohunk could ever score.  He didn't seem likely to present her with any danger, anyhow.  Siggy added:  “At any rate, I'm working with Casimir now.  And that means getting together with you as well.”

     Meanwhile, back at the fabulously luxurious tent of the Khan, the Khan was reaching for the pen to sign away his soul to the demon.  A self-mocking smile lit his face.  He was getting a bargain, selling a commodity he did not believe existed to a creature he did not believe could exist, to gain a benefit he did not believe possible.  However, he knew he couldn't lose.  He'd sign this silly contract and nothing would happen, except, possibly, he'd wake up and realize it had all been one totally weird dream. Or, since he hadn't held onto ultimate power this long by having any confusion between reality and dream-states, he'd sign the paper and nothing would happen.  Of course he wouldn't become immortal but, by pleasing the creature who called itself a demon, he could get it to relax and trust him.  Those who relaxed and trusted him found it a fatal mistake in the long run.  Right now he had a very important interest in this demon creature.  He wanted to know how it had achieved the impossible task of slipping into his tent unobserved.  So he reached for the pen.

     A hideous shriek rent the night air and sixteen guards waving scimitars burst into the tent and stared around wildly, then blankly, then sheepishly.  Finally, they all stood in total silence looking extremely nervous.  What interested the Khan, however, was the fact that the creature who called itself a demon had vanished, not with a puff of smoke and not with a skitter of feet, through a hole in the tent wall.  Just…vanished.  All that was left was a Siamese cat attacking the pen with concentrated fury.

     “Your majesty?” the leader of the guards said nervously.  “Pardon our unpardonable intrusion but we heard a hideous scream.”

     The Khan thought quickly and decided a show of magnanimity was in order.  “No pardon needed.  You acted well, leaping to my defense.  However, all you heard was Sheetan, my guard cat.  I don't know why he senses danger from this pen but something about it has made him angry.”  After a few more polite words all the guards withdrew, groveling with relief.  The Khan ignored them and turned to Sheetan.

     “Sheetan, my pet.  I've heard all my life that cats have senses and ways of knowing beyond those of mortals.  Now here you saw me about to sign away my immortal soul to a demon.  You screeched and attacked.  Why?  Is it possible I really was about to sign my soul away to a demon and you stopped me?”  The Khan paused and pondered and at last sighed deeply and spoke firmly.  “No, I don't believe it.  Go chase a mouse.”

     Sheetan arched its back, fluffed its fur and hissed angrily, then turned and stalked out of the tent with the air of affronted dignity that is only displayed by a cat who has just been thoroughly disgusted by the abysmal stupidity of its favorite pet human.

,

     “So you're going to find this old woman as a stalling device?” Catherine asked. “But how?”

     Siggie had thought on that.  “She came to Karakoram as well, on our train. I can ask the stationmaster to give her son's pen  back to her.  Now, it doesn't seem right to have taken it.”

     “But giving her soul to this alien does seem right?”

     “He doesn't want her, I don't think he'll hurt her.  It's a stall while you arrange for me to meet the Khan.”

     He heard a voice in his head.  “I'll get your pretty and the little white friend too.”

     Casimir snapped his fingers in front of his face.  “What's wrong?”

     “It's the creature, it knows our plan.”

     Casimir sat bolt upright.  “Oh no it doesn't, because I've not told you all of it.  And now I'm not going to, either, you understand?”

     “No, I don't understand.”

     “That's the way.  Now go find the old woman for the stall and I'll get the meeting with Khan arranged.”

     Siggy proceeded on his way.  For a man who felt on top of the world in Minsk , he now felt mired in a sea of confusion.  He went to get the old woman, but the voice assailed him.  “I know you fool, and I will get out of the wording of the contract posthaste.  I'll get you—Bwahahahaha!” 

     The being seemed to have become more bizarre-sounding, but that could be a good sign.  So he went by the wordings of contracts, did he?  Not so usual for a metaphysical entity!

v

     Casimir had planned to meet the Khan anyway to steal the jewels.  Or at least he intended to case the joint.

     He got past the guards quick.  Catherine used the various methods society allowed for a woman, pity or seduction mostly, while he used the ones that befit him.  Blackmail.  He'd discovered something new among the Franks called “Cameragraphy.”  It could make permanent pictures from a camera obscura like device.  The right pictures of the guards at the wrong places serviced his aims and moreso.

     “Master Roland, is there anything else we can do to end this curse?  Please tell us.  We are at your command.”

     Roland is what he was called around there.  “I know that, boys,” he said.  He went into the inner sanctum but was again stopped.  The tent had an elaborate maze of smaller tents inside it.  Casimir feared he could search for days before finding the Khan's sub-tent.  Still, this meant he could get them all together from the beginning to meet the Khan.

     Meanwhile Siggie had found the old woman, but the being was of course prepared for the stalling device.  Yet it had also begun acting increasingly strange as will soon be apparent.

     Starletta the Stilleto landed her ship, crawled out the hatch, looked at the TV gray sky and cursed beneath her breath.  Her quest was going nowhere.  Dejectedly, she crawled back into the ship and blasted off.  She couldn't help but cry for what might have been.

     “Bring me Starletta!” the being screamed.

     “Who?” asked Siggie.

     “I was called Starletta,” said the old woman.

     “I thought you said your name was Esther?” asked Siggie.

     “Ya, but Starletta was my stage name when I did comedy in the Ural Mountains .”

     The being became enraged.  It turned into a dark doglike creature with a face that was a paper-white mask like a weevil.  Then it sang this:  “Turn around, turn around, I'll smash your skull and put it on the ground.”

     Siggie felt confused.  “What are you trying to say?”

     Now the being looked like the Shah of Shahs, but with the white mask face.  It stated, “I exist beyond space, time, and reality.  It gets confusing sometimes.  So I want Catherine Pahlavi. “

     Siggy said, “You're acting strangely.”

     “I've always acted strangely.”

     “No, I mean strangely for you.”

     “You don't know me, no human does.  I will get her soul and then give you the Khan's when I obtain it.”

     Siggie felt ripped off.  “I thought you already had it?”

     “Can I go now?” asked Esther.

     “Silence, Esther!  As for you, I was going to get her soul, but then there was a cat.  It is the species that is our enemy.  From the dawn of time they have pursued us, but we have a plan.  And now give me Catherine.”

     Siggie was confused.  “You just said the woman who…”

     “Stop screwing up my plans!  I know reality.  I know the tunnels of time.  It's not supposed to be like this.  Give me Catherine Pahlavi.”

     “If you insist.”

     An elderly Persian woman smoking a long thin cigarette came near them.  “So you want my soul. I can live with that, not like I'm heading for heaven anyway, honey.  Siggie, you are going to pay my daughter for the loss of me, right?”

     “Of course,” he told her.

     “Perfect, I've always wanted to belong to an alien.  In mind, soul and body honey.”  It winked at the being that now looked like the grim reaper from a Bergman film.  The being felt disgusted, but looked into her mind.  “This is a  Catherine Pahlavi, but not the one I want.  I wanted the one from the train.”

     “You know that to me a woman is a woman so who cares?”

     Esther said, “Can I go home now?”

     The being yelled and screamed in vengeful rage.  “I'll be back.  Then that poor unfortunate soul, so sad but true, will have to pay the toll.  Because when you've stepped in a pile of goo that was once your best friend's face, you'll know what to do.  Catherine, the right Catherine, will go to London with me and ruin Newsradio .  Although not so much as when Phil Hartmann dies.  Now  bring the right Catherine or face eternal torment!!!! “

     It turned into a gigantic red dragon and flew away.

     Catherine caught up with Siggie who was just paying Esther.  “Is that the old woman from the train?” she asked.  Esther dropped her cigarette.

     “Oh, don't get me started on trains.  Never go near the things.  My name is Catherine Pahlavi.  He paid me because some alien wanted a woman of that name.”

     “I'm Catherine Pahlavi!”  Catherine said in exasperation.

     “Well, then, you were the one.  Look, it's been fun, but I got to go back to the casino.  It's been nice working with you all.  Can I go home now?”

     Catherine said, “I don't understand any of this.”

     Siggie shrugged.  “You're not alone in the not understanding part.  The being was acting very bizarrely with me just now.  I barely could follow it.  It talked about Starletta.”

     Catherine nodded.  “Casimir said that they're somewhat obsessive.  When things don't go according to their plan maybe they go haywire for awhile.  I don't think we should count on it staying like that.”

     “Agreed.  Did he get us a meeting with the Khan?”

     “Yes, that's why I came here, so you could go with me to see him and Casimir.” 

     He gave a grin that was like a wince.  “Swell.”  He did not in fact relish meeting the Khan at all.  After  all the Khan's orders killed everyone in his home city including his family.  Deep down he still hoped he could ruin the Khan in some way when this stuff with the monster ended.

g

     Perhaps the being thought it was empowered to turn her down, but it was mistaken.  Esther would have her revenge upon it, super-being or not.  She did not like rejection.  Her attitude interested Starletta, who was now in orbit above their world and was in telepathic communication with Esther. 

     That same being was having another go at getting Khan to sign away his soul.  This was being observed by Casimir, who had made his way through the great pyramid of tenting to the inner tent of Khan.

     “How do I know the immortality is real?” Khan asked.

     “I am not mortal, and am able to pass my lack of mortality on to another,” the being said.

     “What's it like, not being mortal?”

     “In order to exist forever, one must always have existed.  There was no time I did not exist, so I shall always exist.”

     “How did you get to now? ” Khan asked.

     “ 'Now' is you ,” the being said.  “I came unto mortality and witness it.  And when I came, mortality attempted to make me mortal.  I despise it.  You have lives with beginnings and ends.  They are short ones, too.  I assume you value your mortality and will not wish to accept an immortal condition, which is why I bargain with you.  Mortality is a sought-after condition.  But some grow tired of it.”

     “That's certainly me,” Conrad said.  “I'm fixing to sign your document now.”

     “Not so fast,” the cat said.  “There's trickery involved.  I sense it with feline senses.”

     “Well, do you respect my cat's intervention?” Khan said.

     Suddenly the cat became aware of another presence.  Casimir was doing this intentionally.  The cat went helter-skelter and the circumstances became a roaring chaos.  Casimir did not want any deal made here going through successfully.

     Khan was amazed that his cat could talk.  It hadn't, before.  He didn't even understand how it could, but it had.  The cat went berserk.  It clawed the alien before it ran out of the room.  The being said,

     “I don't think that I would.  Your cat is a problem.  I recommend you put the thing to sleep.  But as for the contract, will you trust some crazy feline or an alien that will give you enough time to do anything you want?”

     “And if you're lying about immortality?”  Khan kept getting less convinced that this was real each time something like this happened.  He had been ready to sign the contract twice and both times something weird happened.  Who was his cat?

     “Then I can't have your soul.  And you won't have immortality.  And from your point of view it's a win-win situation or at least a foolproof one.  You can't be worse off, only—better off.”

     This was true, at least from what Khan understood.  “Give me the pen,” he said, and with a few moves that hardly resembled handwriting, his soul was sealed.

     That wasn't so hard.  Khan experienced something unnatural just then, a black swirling orb floated out of him.  It hurt leaving, too; it felt as if it had been ripped out of him.  He would rather have died.

     Just then the Khan's cat barged in.  As it ran towards the black orb, it turned into a sphinx.  Khan couldn't believe it.  A SPHINX!  It was able to balance on its black paws also, something the sphinxes of Egypt couldn't do.

     The demon made a grab for the soul and it melted into him.  It spread its long black wings and flew through the roof of the tent, leaving the sphinx far below on the ground.  “You didn't listen!”

     The being had known all ways of failure, but hadn't anticipated success.  However, the success proved more delicious as Catherine, Sigismund, and Casimir entered.

     “Good, I have the Khan's soul and you will give me Catherine's.”

     Catherine balked.  “My soul is mine. No one gives it except me.”

     “You don't know what I wish to do with you, my dear.  You have a gift I can use and love.”

     Catherine was dubious.  “What gift?”

     The being explained, “You have the ability to make people share their innermost truth.  In the case of my kind you have an even greater ability.  Using your gift that way together we can rule a species far grander than these humans.”

     Catherine wondered what that'd be like but looking at the Khan's dead eyes she knew that it would be him in charge.  She had been raised in a strict parochial society all her life.  She wasn't about to be a slave to some man.  Even if that man wasn't a man, or even male, at all.  Still if she had a gift.  “What is your species?”

     Casimir:  “I think this is going to be a long one.  Better settle in Stanislav.”  Stanislav being Siggie's real name.

     “My species comes from a world 38.5 light years from here.  However, it's also in another dimension.  That's why I see other timelines and tend to exist as a phantom among you.  I can also pluck the essence of individual human consciousness.  What you call a soul.  My people observed the various timelines you lived in for centuries.  We came here to try to make your timelines better.  Your world is so repressive and backward we felt we could manipulate it toward better ends.  So about five centuries ago we landed in the most suitable spot for us, a cold desert in Central Asia .  We lived among you before then, but not as often. In any event we have used our position to make deals and manipulate you toward improvement.”

     Catherine was surprised.  “So you want to make things better?  You're a good guy?”

     The being's eyes rolled at that.  “Most of us want it less repressive and backward.  Whether we are ‘good guys' is open to interpretation.  I certainly don't care if any of you are happier or live better.  I don't even care if you live under less repression.  What I want you to do is improve along the lines I choose.  I'd favor a global technocratic dictatorship that would get you to the stars.  That way I could deal with other species than this race of pathetic hairless apes.  Now give me your soul so we can rule the Severgain together.”

     “You're called the Severgain?”

     “Yes.  Now your soul.”

     Catherine thought. “If you must tell me the truth tell me how I can contact others of your kind.”

     The being grew enraged.  “I mustn't do that.  They do not approve of this and would not want me gaining the power you'd give me.”

     Catherine gave her most seductive voice.  “I know you really want to tell me, though.  Don't you, you big hulking monster, you.  Come on, it'll be so good for the plot to see others like you.”

     “No.”

     “Oh, pretty please.  I might give you what you want if you give me what I want.”

     The being blurted out, “I was attracted to the train because of the steel and steam.  Fill anything with those two ingredients, talk of souls, and then we appear.”

     “Thanks, you big old monster you.”

     “Do I get your soul now?”

     Catherine glared.  “I'd rather eat shaving cream.”

     Sigismund had been thinking.  This being considered him able to get a soul from another person.  If he were able to do this, would he not be able to get Khan's soul from the being?  Catherine, with her own abilities, could do something of that sort and would be able to help him out.  If he did this he would get the Khan's soul without having to give the strange being anything.

     “Let's do a scientific check here,” he said.  “This similar signing will be the control factor.”  He telepathisized his plans to Catherine.  She was to seduce Khan while Sig went for his signature.  He said, “If this contract is legally binding, Khan will be mine if he signs my contract.”  He passed pen and contract to Khan, who hastily signed.  “As documents go, it's as binding as yours, Zorch (just to give you a name).”  He had reached his peroration.  “As documents are a thing of the courts, which do you think will hold up in court, yours or mine?”

     At this moment the alien being was attacked by the elderly woman, a psychic and a witch who proved well able to get to him.  Hers was a story of vengeance, cold and cruel.  The being had never felt an attack like hers.  The group retreated from Khan's tent, taking Khan with them, leaving the being to howl almost humanly as Esther attacked him.

     The being died miles away.  Before he died, though, a dozen orbs ripped out of his chest.  And since the souls were just souls and not minds able to make decisions, they floated in place, where the killer came.  She knew about these aliens.  Yes, knew them for what they were…

     Well, they were hers now, all the orbs, even the menacing-looking black one.  “Finders keepers,” she thought, going over to them.  Once she got there she touched them.  And yes, they melted in her.  It was part of her and would be part of her until she died.  Once she had them inside her she was able to go back to her cottage.  She opened the door and walked into the tiny one-room cottage.  She locked the door behind her (just a habit) and sat down near the fire.  After inspecting all her equipment to make sure nothing was missing, she raised her eyes and pictured the spirits.  Then the new phantoms floated out of her.  She stared at the phantom of the one she had killed.  “Hello honey, now you are mine!”

     The ghost Zorch looked around the shabby room.  It had no windows and only a table and one padded chair for furniture.  But the thing that scared him was the tools on the table.  There were elements that would burn a phantom/ghost like him (not kill him; he was already dead).  He then looked sheepishly at his MASTER, the word popped into his head.  He wasn't even that now that he thought of it, it was an automatic setting kind of thing.  She had a face that if you used a lot of makeup could pass for dead.  Her most unique and startling feature was a scar that looked like the symbol of the ancient headhunters.  “The one that once lived on my planet!” said he with alarm.

     “What do you want?”

     “Nothing much, just for you to suffer, and then a ticket back to your world.  And you can—will—do that.”  She gave him a smile with a lot of sharp teeth.

     Stanislav said, “I succeeded at my original goal of destroying him, but now I wonder if it was worth it.  I realize now that the council will just pick another idiot I despise.”

     Casimir shook his head.  “No, it won't.  My umm business partner is a member of the Mongol royal family.  I'm pretty sure he'll be the next Khan and he's a good guy.  Well anyway I'm sure he'll pardon any Lvov survivors and be a more noble ruler.  We'll be better off.”

     “What about me?  Do I get the crown jewels?” asked Catherine.

     Casimir looked apologetic.  “I'm sorry to tell you the crown jewels are a myth.  Mongol Khans live in tents and try to maintain the nomadic image.  The Khan's signet ring is the closest thing and I'm afraid that will go to my friend when he's elected.”

     “Dang.”

     Stanislav could use his name with the death threat gone.  He comforted her.  “You have something much better than jewels.  You've discovered you have a wonderful gift.  You will make people more honest wherever they go.  And if need be you can make profit on the truths you discover.”

     Catherine said, “You mean WE can.”

     “So you forgive me for offering your soul to a monster?”

     “Of course.  Now tell me every alias you've used.”

     “Well, there's—“

     “The Khan had no jewels, but he did have this,” Casimir said.  “It belonged to his mother who, as you know, was a Chinese princess.  The Mongols allowed their royal line some things. Anyway, I did swipe it for you before we fled the tents.”

     “Thank you so much.  I'm going to use the money to start a veterinary school for women.  There's a Russian woman who I know  wants to try it.”

     Casimir blushed.  “Women veterinarians?  What'll they think of next!”  He went home to tell his partner about how their lives would change now.  Catherine and Stanislav went off to their own fates.  He whispered in her ear, “I think I might quit smoking now that I don't need it for a personum.”

     She whispered back, “And some day I'm going to use that trick with the steel and the steam to see if I conjure up one of those creatures again.  It sounds like they aren't all bad people and it might be useful some day.”

     He thought that a weird response, but walked off with her into the sunset.

     The other Catherine listened to their exchange with interest.  She was an old woman but had preternatural hearing.  She went to visit her friend to consider how the steel and steam thing could benefit them some day.

     The being did not like the look of her sharp teeth.  “Why do you think I wanted to advance the humans?  I can't get home myself right now.”

     “You will suffer first, remember.  After that you'll see what you can and can't do in a different light.”

     Little did any of them know that the Being had been presenting an image of itself that was a false one. It seemed to be a demon but was instead a being of a higher nature.  It had allowed itself to be defeated out of interest in the results.

     There was bound to be more to come.

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