Doctor Volospion had even suggested, earlier, that it would be charitable if she went to his cage to "comfort" him.
"Repulsive little runt!" She pushed back her pink silky sheets and turned up the lamp (already fairly bright) whose stand was in the shape of a flesh-coloured nymph rising naked from the powder-blue petals of an open rose. "I do wish Doctor Volospion would let me have a power ring of my own. It would make everything much easier. Everyone else has them. Lots of time travellers do." She crossed the soft pale yellow carpet to her gilded Empire-style dressing-table to look at her face in the mirror.
"Oh, I look awful! That dreadful creature."
She sighed. She often had trouble sleeping, for she was very highly strung, but this was much worse. For all their extravagant entertainments, their parties where the world was moulded to their whims, what they really needed, thought Mavis, was a decent TV network. TV would be just the answer to her problems right now.
"Perhaps Doctor Volospion could find something for me in one of those old cities," she mused. "I'll ask him. Not that he seems to be doing me many favours, these days. How long's he had the Fireclown now? A couple of weeks? And spending all his time down there. Maybe he loves Bloom and that's what it's all about." She laughed, but immediately became miserable again.
"Oh, Mavis. Why is it always you? The world just isn't on your side." She gave one of her funny little crooked smiles, very similar to those she had seen Barbara Stanwyck giving in those beautiful old movies.
"If only I could have gone back in time, to the 20th century, even, where the sort of clothes and lifestyle they had were so graceful. They had simpler lives, then. Oh, I know they must have had their problems, but how I wish I could be there now! It's what I was looking forward to, when they elected me to be the first person to try out the time machine. Of course, it was proof of how popular I was with the other guys at the department. Everyone agreed unanimously that I should be the first to go. It was a great honour."
Apparently this thought did not succeed in lifting her spirits. She raised a hand to her head.
"Oh, oh — here comes the headache! Poor old Mavis!"
She began to pad back towards the big circular bed. But the thought of a continuance of those dreams, even though she had pushed them right out of her mind, stopped her. It had been Doctor Volospion's suggestion that she continue to lead the sort of life she had been used to — with regular periods of darkness and daylight and a corresponding need to sleep and eat, even though he could easily have changed all that for her.
To be fair to him, she thought, he tended to follow a similar routine himself, ever since he had heard that Lord Jagged of Canaria had adopted this ancient affectation. If she had had a power ring or an air car at her disposal (again she was completely reliant on Volospion's good graces) she would have left the palace and gone to find some fun, something to take her mind off things. She looked at her Winnie-the-Pooh clock — another three hours before the palace would be properly activated. Until then she would not even be able to get a snack with which to console herself.
"I'm not much better off than that little creep down there," she said. "Oh, Mavis, what sort of a state have they got you into!"
A tap, now, at the door.
Grateful for the interruption, Mavis pulled on her fluffy blue dressing-robe. "Come in!"
Doctor Volospion, a satanic Hamlet in black and white doublet and hose, entered her room. "You are not sleeping, Miss Ming? I heard your voice as I passed…"
Hope revealed itself in her eyes. "I've got a bit of a headache, Doctor." He could normally cure her headaches. Her mood improved. She became eager, anxious to win his approval. "Silly little Mavis is having nightmares again."
"You are unhappy?"
"Oh, no! In this lovely room? In your lovely palace? It's everything a little girl dreams about. It's just that awful Mr Bloom. Ever since…"
"I see." The saturnine features showed enlightenment. "You are still afraid. He can never escape, Miss Ming. He has tried, but I assure you my powers are far greater than his. He becomes tiresome, but he is no threat."
"You'll let him go, then?"
"If I could be sure that he would leave the planet, for he fails to be as entertaining as I had hoped. And if he would give me that Grail of his, from which his power, I am now certain, derives. But he refuses."
"You could take it now, couldn't you?"
"Not from him. Not from his ship. The screen is still impenetrable. No, you are our only hope."
"Me?"
"He would not have allowed himself to be trapped at all, if it had not been for you." Doctor Volospion sighed deeply. "Well, I have just returned from visiting him again. I have offered him his liberty in return for that one piece of property, but he fobs me off with arguments that are typically specious, with vague talk of Faith and Trust — you have heard his babble."
Mavis murmured sympathetically. "I've never seen you so cast down, Doctor Volospion. You never know with some people, do you? He's best locked up for his own good. He's a sort of cripple, isn't he? You know what some cripples are like. You can't blame them. It's the frustration. It's all bottled up in them. It turns them into sex maniacs."
"To do him justice, Miss Ming, his interest seems only in you. I have offered him many women, both real and artificial, from the menageries. Many of them are very beautiful, but he insists that none of them has your 'soul,' your — um — true beauty."
"Really?" She was sceptical, still. "He's insane. A lot of men are like that. That's one of the reasons I gave them up. At least with a lady you know where you are on that score. And Mr Bloom has got about as much sex-appeal as a seagull — less! Did you ever hear of a really sweet old book called Jonathan…"
"Your headache is better, Miss Ming?"
"Why, yes." She touched her hair. "It's almost gone. Did you…?"
Doctor Volospion drew his own brows together and traced beringed fingers across the creases. "You do not give yourself enough credit, Miss Ming…"
She smiled. "That's what Betty was always telling me when I used to feel low. But poor old Mavis…"
"He demands that you see him. He speaks of nothing else."
"Oh!" She paused. She shook her head. "No, I couldn't, really. As it is, I haven't had a good night's sleep since the day he arrived."
"Of course, I understand."
Miss Ming was touched by Doctor Volospion's unusual sadness. He seemed to have none of his usual confidence. She moved closer to him.
"Don't worry, Doctor Volospion. Maybe it would be best if you tried to forget about him."
"I need the Grail. I am obsessed with it. And I cannot rid myself of the notion that, somehow, he is tricking me."
"Impossible. You're far too clever. Why is this Grail so important to you?"
Doctor Volospion withdrew from her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."
"Only you can help me, Miss Ming."
The apparent pleading in his voice moved her to heights of sympathy. "Oh…"
"You could convince him, I think, where I could not."
She was relenting, against all her instincts. "Well, if I saw him for a few moments … And it might help me, too — to lay the ghost, if you know what I mean."
His voice was low. "I should be very grateful to you, Miss Ming. Perhaps we should go immediately."
She hesitated. Then she patted his arm. "Oh, all right. Give me a few minutes to get dressed."
With a deep bow, Doctor Volospion left the room.
Miss Ming began to consider her clothes. On the one hand, she thought, some sort of sexless boiler suit would be best, to dampen Mr Bloom's ardour as much as possible. Another impulse was to put on her very sexiest clothes, to feed her vanity. In the end she compromised, donning a flowery mou-mou which, she thought, disguised her plumpness. Courageously she went to join Doctor Volospion, who awaited her in the corridor. Together they made their way to the menagerie.
As they descended flights of stone stairs she observed: "Surprisingly I'm feeling quite light-headed. Almost gay!"
They passed through the tiered rows of his many devotional trophies, past the bones and the sticks and the bits of cloth, the cauldrons, idols, masks and weapons, the crowns and the boxes, the scrolls, tablets and books, the prayer-wheels and crystals and ju-jus, until they reached the door of the first section of the menagerie, the Jewish House.
"I had thought of putting him in here," Doctor Volospion told her as they passed by the inmates, who ranted, wailed, chanted, tore their clothing or merely turned aside as they passed, "but finally I decided on the Non-Sectarian Prophet House."
"I hadn't realized your collection was so big. I've never seen it all, as you know." Miss Ming made conversation as best she could. Evidently the place still disturbed her.
"It grows almost without one realizing it," said Doctor Volospion. "I suppose, because so many people of a messianic disposition take an interest in the future, we are bound to get more than our fair share of prophets, anxious to discover if their particular version of the millennium has come about. Because they are frequently disappointed, many are glad of the refuge I offer."
They went through another door.
"Martyrdom, it would seem, is the next best thing to affirmation," he said.
They passed through a score of different Houses until, finally, they came to the Fireclown's habitat. It was designed to resemble a desert, scorched by a permanently blazing sun.
"He refused," whispered Doctor Volospion, as they approached, "to tell me what sort of environment he favoured, so I chose this one. It is the most popular with my prophets, as you'll have noted."
Emmanuel Bloom, in his clown's costume, sat on a rock in the centre of his energy cage. His greasepaint seemed to have run a little, as if he had been weeping, but he did not seem in particularly low spirits now. He had not, it appeared, noticed them. He was reciting poetry to himself.
"And yet like none of these…" He put an awkward finger to his small mouth. He put his painted head on one side.
Mavis Ming cleared her throat. Doctor Volospion's hand forced her further towards the cage.
The Fireclown spoke first. "So Guinevere comes at last to her Lancelot — or is it Kundry, come to call me Parsifal? Sorceress, you have incarcerated me. Tell your servant to release me so that, in turn, I may free you from the evil that holds you with stronger bonds than any that chain me!"
Miss Ming's smile was insincere. "Why don't you talk properly, Mr Bloom? This is childish. Anyway, you know he's not my servant." She was very pale.
Mr Bloom crossed the stretch of sand until he was as close to her as the cage permitted. "He is not your master, you may be sure of that, this imitation Klingsor!"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Her voice was shaking.
He pressed his tiny body against the energy screen. "I must be free," he said. "There is no mission for me here, now, at the End of Time. I must continue my quest, perhaps into another universe where Faith may yet flourish."
Doctor Volospion came forward. "I have brought Miss Ming, as you have so constantly demanded. You have talked to her. Now, if you will give up the Grail to me…"
Mr Bloom's manner became agitated. "I have explained to you, demi-demon, that you could not keep it, even if, by some means, I could transfer it to you. Only the pure in spirit are entitled to its trust. If I agreed to your bargain I should lose the Grail myself, for ever. Neither would gain!"
"I find your objections without foundation." Doctor Volospion was unruffled by the Fireclown's anger. "What you believe, Mr Bloom, is one thing. The truth, however, is quite another! Faith dies, but the objects of faith do not, as you saw in my museum."
"These things have no value without Faith!"
"They are valuable to me. That is why I collect them. I desire this Grail of yours so that I may, at least, compare it with my own."
"You know yours to be false," said the Fireclown. "I can tell."
"I shall decide which is false and which is not when I have both in my possession. I know it is on your ship, for all that you deny it."
"It is not. It manifests itself at certain times."
Doctor Volospion allowed his own ill-temper to show. "Miss Ming…"
"Please let him have it, Mr Bloom," said Mavis Ming in her best wheedling voice. "He'll let you go if you do."
The Fireclown was amused. "I can leave whenever I please. But I gave my word on two matters. I said that I would not take you by force and that I would take you with me when I left."
"Your boasts are shown to be empty, sir," said Doctor Volospion. He laid the flat of his hand against the energy screen. "There."
Mr Bloom ran his hand through his auburn mop, continuing to speak to Miss Ming. "You demean yourself, woman, when you aid this wretch, when you adopt that idiotic tone of voice."
"Well!" It was possible to observe that Miss Ming's legs were shaking. "I'm not staying here, not even for you, Doctor Volospion! It's too much. I can stand a lot of things, but not this."
"Be silent!" The Fireclown's voice was low and firm. "Listen to your soul. It will tell you what I tell you."
"Miss Ming!" Seeing that she prepared to flee Doctor Volospion seized her arm. "For my sake do not give up. If I have that Grail…"
"You may see the Grail, beautiful Mavis, when I have redeemed you," murmured the Fireclown, "but it shall always be denied to such as he! Come with me and I shall let you witness more than Mystery."
She panicked. "Oh, Christ!" She was unable to control herself as she sensed the terrible pressure coming from both sides. She tried to free herself from Doctor Volospion's restraining hand. "I can't take any more. I can't!"
"Miss Ming!" fiercely croaked a desperate Volospion. "You promised to help."
"Come with me!" cried the Fireclown.
She still struggled, trying to prise his grip away from the sleeve of her mou-mou. "You can both do what you like. I don't want any part of it."
Hysteria ruled now. She scratched Doctor Volospion's hand so that at last he released her. She ran away from them. She ran crazily between the cages of roaring, screaming, moaning prophets. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"
And then, just before a door shut her from their view:
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
14. In which Miss Mavis Ming is given an opportunity to win the Forgiveness of her Protector
15. In which Mavis Ming sets off in search of the Holy Grail
16 In which Doctor Volospion receives the congratulations of his peers and celebrates the acquisition of his new Treasure
17. In which Miss Mavis Ming at last attains a State of Grace
"Repulsive little runt!" She pushed back her pink silky sheets and turned up the lamp (already fairly bright) whose stand was in the shape of a flesh-coloured nymph rising naked from the powder-blue petals of an open rose. "I do wish Doctor Volospion would let me have a power ring of my own. It would make everything much easier. Everyone else has them. Lots of time travellers do." She crossed the soft pale yellow carpet to her gilded Empire-style dressing-table to look at her face in the mirror.
"Oh, I look awful! That dreadful creature."
She sighed. She often had trouble sleeping, for she was very highly strung, but this was much worse. For all their extravagant entertainments, their parties where the world was moulded to their whims, what they really needed, thought Mavis, was a decent TV network. TV would be just the answer to her problems right now.
"Perhaps Doctor Volospion could find something for me in one of those old cities," she mused. "I'll ask him. Not that he seems to be doing me many favours, these days. How long's he had the Fireclown now? A couple of weeks? And spending all his time down there. Maybe he loves Bloom and that's what it's all about." She laughed, but immediately became miserable again.
"Oh, Mavis. Why is it always you? The world just isn't on your side." She gave one of her funny little crooked smiles, very similar to those she had seen Barbara Stanwyck giving in those beautiful old movies.
"If only I could have gone back in time, to the 20th century, even, where the sort of clothes and lifestyle they had were so graceful. They had simpler lives, then. Oh, I know they must have had their problems, but how I wish I could be there now! It's what I was looking forward to, when they elected me to be the first person to try out the time machine. Of course, it was proof of how popular I was with the other guys at the department. Everyone agreed unanimously that I should be the first to go. It was a great honour."
Apparently this thought did not succeed in lifting her spirits. She raised a hand to her head.
"Oh, oh — here comes the headache! Poor old Mavis!"
She began to pad back towards the big circular bed. But the thought of a continuance of those dreams, even though she had pushed them right out of her mind, stopped her. It had been Doctor Volospion's suggestion that she continue to lead the sort of life she had been used to — with regular periods of darkness and daylight and a corresponding need to sleep and eat, even though he could easily have changed all that for her.
To be fair to him, she thought, he tended to follow a similar routine himself, ever since he had heard that Lord Jagged of Canaria had adopted this ancient affectation. If she had had a power ring or an air car at her disposal (again she was completely reliant on Volospion's good graces) she would have left the palace and gone to find some fun, something to take her mind off things. She looked at her Winnie-the-Pooh clock — another three hours before the palace would be properly activated. Until then she would not even be able to get a snack with which to console herself.
"I'm not much better off than that little creep down there," she said. "Oh, Mavis, what sort of a state have they got you into!"
A tap, now, at the door.
Grateful for the interruption, Mavis pulled on her fluffy blue dressing-robe. "Come in!"
Doctor Volospion, a satanic Hamlet in black and white doublet and hose, entered her room. "You are not sleeping, Miss Ming? I heard your voice as I passed…"
Hope revealed itself in her eyes. "I've got a bit of a headache, Doctor." He could normally cure her headaches. Her mood improved. She became eager, anxious to win his approval. "Silly little Mavis is having nightmares again."
"You are unhappy?"
"Oh, no! In this lovely room? In your lovely palace? It's everything a little girl dreams about. It's just that awful Mr Bloom. Ever since…"
"I see." The saturnine features showed enlightenment. "You are still afraid. He can never escape, Miss Ming. He has tried, but I assure you my powers are far greater than his. He becomes tiresome, but he is no threat."
"You'll let him go, then?"
"If I could be sure that he would leave the planet, for he fails to be as entertaining as I had hoped. And if he would give me that Grail of his, from which his power, I am now certain, derives. But he refuses."
"You could take it now, couldn't you?"
"Not from him. Not from his ship. The screen is still impenetrable. No, you are our only hope."
"Me?"
"He would not have allowed himself to be trapped at all, if it had not been for you." Doctor Volospion sighed deeply. "Well, I have just returned from visiting him again. I have offered him his liberty in return for that one piece of property, but he fobs me off with arguments that are typically specious, with vague talk of Faith and Trust — you have heard his babble."
Mavis murmured sympathetically. "I've never seen you so cast down, Doctor Volospion. You never know with some people, do you? He's best locked up for his own good. He's a sort of cripple, isn't he? You know what some cripples are like. You can't blame them. It's the frustration. It's all bottled up in them. It turns them into sex maniacs."
"To do him justice, Miss Ming, his interest seems only in you. I have offered him many women, both real and artificial, from the menageries. Many of them are very beautiful, but he insists that none of them has your 'soul,' your — um — true beauty."
"Really?" She was sceptical, still. "He's insane. A lot of men are like that. That's one of the reasons I gave them up. At least with a lady you know where you are on that score. And Mr Bloom has got about as much sex-appeal as a seagull — less! Did you ever hear of a really sweet old book called Jonathan…"
"Your headache is better, Miss Ming?"
"Why, yes." She touched her hair. "It's almost gone. Did you…?"
Doctor Volospion drew his own brows together and traced beringed fingers across the creases. "You do not give yourself enough credit, Miss Ming…"
She smiled. "That's what Betty was always telling me when I used to feel low. But poor old Mavis…"
"He demands that you see him. He speaks of nothing else."
"Oh!" She paused. She shook her head. "No, I couldn't, really. As it is, I haven't had a good night's sleep since the day he arrived."
"Of course, I understand."
Miss Ming was touched by Doctor Volospion's unusual sadness. He seemed to have none of his usual confidence. She moved closer to him.
"Don't worry, Doctor Volospion. Maybe it would be best if you tried to forget about him."
"I need the Grail. I am obsessed with it. And I cannot rid myself of the notion that, somehow, he is tricking me."
"Impossible. You're far too clever. Why is this Grail so important to you?"
Doctor Volospion withdrew from her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."
"Only you can help me, Miss Ming."
The apparent pleading in his voice moved her to heights of sympathy. "Oh…"
"You could convince him, I think, where I could not."
She was relenting, against all her instincts. "Well, if I saw him for a few moments … And it might help me, too — to lay the ghost, if you know what I mean."
His voice was low. "I should be very grateful to you, Miss Ming. Perhaps we should go immediately."
She hesitated. Then she patted his arm. "Oh, all right. Give me a few minutes to get dressed."
With a deep bow, Doctor Volospion left the room.
Miss Ming began to consider her clothes. On the one hand, she thought, some sort of sexless boiler suit would be best, to dampen Mr Bloom's ardour as much as possible. Another impulse was to put on her very sexiest clothes, to feed her vanity. In the end she compromised, donning a flowery mou-mou which, she thought, disguised her plumpness. Courageously she went to join Doctor Volospion, who awaited her in the corridor. Together they made their way to the menagerie.
As they descended flights of stone stairs she observed: "Surprisingly I'm feeling quite light-headed. Almost gay!"
They passed through the tiered rows of his many devotional trophies, past the bones and the sticks and the bits of cloth, the cauldrons, idols, masks and weapons, the crowns and the boxes, the scrolls, tablets and books, the prayer-wheels and crystals and ju-jus, until they reached the door of the first section of the menagerie, the Jewish House.
"I had thought of putting him in here," Doctor Volospion told her as they passed by the inmates, who ranted, wailed, chanted, tore their clothing or merely turned aside as they passed, "but finally I decided on the Non-Sectarian Prophet House."
"I hadn't realized your collection was so big. I've never seen it all, as you know." Miss Ming made conversation as best she could. Evidently the place still disturbed her.
"It grows almost without one realizing it," said Doctor Volospion. "I suppose, because so many people of a messianic disposition take an interest in the future, we are bound to get more than our fair share of prophets, anxious to discover if their particular version of the millennium has come about. Because they are frequently disappointed, many are glad of the refuge I offer."
They went through another door.
"Martyrdom, it would seem, is the next best thing to affirmation," he said.
They passed through a score of different Houses until, finally, they came to the Fireclown's habitat. It was designed to resemble a desert, scorched by a permanently blazing sun.
"He refused," whispered Doctor Volospion, as they approached, "to tell me what sort of environment he favoured, so I chose this one. It is the most popular with my prophets, as you'll have noted."
Emmanuel Bloom, in his clown's costume, sat on a rock in the centre of his energy cage. His greasepaint seemed to have run a little, as if he had been weeping, but he did not seem in particularly low spirits now. He had not, it appeared, noticed them. He was reciting poetry to himself.
He had seen her. His great blue eyes blinked. His stiff little body began to rise. His birdlike, fluting voice took on a different tone.
"… Took shape and were unfolded like as flowers.
And I beheld the hours
As maidens, and the days as labouring men,
And the soft nights again
As wearied women to their own souls wed,
And ages as the dead.
And over these living, and them that died,
From one to the other side
A lordlier light than comes of earth or air
Made the world's future fair.
A woman like to love in face, but not
A thing of transient lot —
And like to hope, but having hold on truth —
And like to joy or youth,
Save that upon the rock her feet were set —
And like what men forget,
Faith, innocence, high thought, laborious peace —
"And yet like none of these…" He put an awkward finger to his small mouth. He put his painted head on one side.
Mavis Ming cleared her throat. Doctor Volospion's hand forced her further towards the cage.
The Fireclown spoke first. "So Guinevere comes at last to her Lancelot — or is it Kundry, come to call me Parsifal? Sorceress, you have incarcerated me. Tell your servant to release me so that, in turn, I may free you from the evil that holds you with stronger bonds than any that chain me!"
Miss Ming's smile was insincere. "Why don't you talk properly, Mr Bloom? This is childish. Anyway, you know he's not my servant." She was very pale.
Mr Bloom crossed the stretch of sand until he was as close to her as the cage permitted. "He is not your master, you may be sure of that, this imitation Klingsor!"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Her voice was shaking.
He pressed his tiny body against the energy screen. "I must be free," he said. "There is no mission for me here, now, at the End of Time. I must continue my quest, perhaps into another universe where Faith may yet flourish."
Doctor Volospion came forward. "I have brought Miss Ming, as you have so constantly demanded. You have talked to her. Now, if you will give up the Grail to me…"
Mr Bloom's manner became agitated. "I have explained to you, demi-demon, that you could not keep it, even if, by some means, I could transfer it to you. Only the pure in spirit are entitled to its trust. If I agreed to your bargain I should lose the Grail myself, for ever. Neither would gain!"
"I find your objections without foundation." Doctor Volospion was unruffled by the Fireclown's anger. "What you believe, Mr Bloom, is one thing. The truth, however, is quite another! Faith dies, but the objects of faith do not, as you saw in my museum."
"These things have no value without Faith!"
"They are valuable to me. That is why I collect them. I desire this Grail of yours so that I may, at least, compare it with my own."
"You know yours to be false," said the Fireclown. "I can tell."
"I shall decide which is false and which is not when I have both in my possession. I know it is on your ship, for all that you deny it."
"It is not. It manifests itself at certain times."
Doctor Volospion allowed his own ill-temper to show. "Miss Ming…"
"Please let him have it, Mr Bloom," said Mavis Ming in her best wheedling voice. "He'll let you go if you do."
The Fireclown was amused. "I can leave whenever I please. But I gave my word on two matters. I said that I would not take you by force and that I would take you with me when I left."
"Your boasts are shown to be empty, sir," said Doctor Volospion. He laid the flat of his hand against the energy screen. "There."
Mr Bloom ran his hand through his auburn mop, continuing to speak to Miss Ming. "You demean yourself, woman, when you aid this wretch, when you adopt that idiotic tone of voice."
"Well!" It was possible to observe that Miss Ming's legs were shaking. "I'm not staying here, not even for you, Doctor Volospion! It's too much. I can stand a lot of things, but not this."
"Be silent!" The Fireclown's voice was low and firm. "Listen to your soul. It will tell you what I tell you."
"Miss Ming!" Seeing that she prepared to flee Doctor Volospion seized her arm. "For my sake do not give up. If I have that Grail…"
"You may see the Grail, beautiful Mavis, when I have redeemed you," murmured the Fireclown, "but it shall always be denied to such as he! Come with me and I shall let you witness more than Mystery."
She panicked. "Oh, Christ!" She was unable to control herself as she sensed the terrible pressure coming from both sides. She tried to free herself from Doctor Volospion's restraining hand. "I can't take any more. I can't!"
"Miss Ming!" fiercely croaked a desperate Volospion. "You promised to help."
"Come with me!" cried the Fireclown.
She still struggled, trying to prise his grip away from the sleeve of her mou-mou. "You can both do what you like. I don't want any part of it."
Hysteria ruled now. She scratched Doctor Volospion's hand so that at last he released her. She ran away from them. She ran crazily between the cages of roaring, screaming, moaning prophets. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"
And then, just before a door shut her from their view:
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
14. In which Miss Mavis Ming is given an opportunity to win the Forgiveness of her Protector
When Mavis Ming next awoke, finding herself in the soft pink security of her own bed, where she had fled in terror after scratching Doctor Volospion, she was surprised by how refreshed she felt, how confident. Even the threat of Doctor Volospion's anger, which she feared almost as much as the Fireclown's love, failed to thrill her.
"What can he do, after all?" she asked herself. She still wore the mou-mou. She looked at the ripped sleeve, and she inspected the bruise on her arm. She doubted if the scratch she had given Doctor Volospion was any worse than the bruise he had given her, but she also recalled that, in her experience, men had a different way of looking at these things.
"Why do I feel so good? Because of a fight?" She was almost buoyant. "Maybe because it's over. I tried to please him. I really tried. But he's got a way of double-binding a girl like nobody else's. I guess little Mavis will have to find a new berth."
She removed the mou-mou and went to take a shower. "Well, it was high time for a change. And I'm not much gone on sharing the same roof with that mad midget downstairs."
The shower was refreshing.
"I'm going to go out. I'm going to visit a few people. Now," elbow on palm of hand, fingertip to chin, "who shall I visit first?"
She reviewed her acquaintances, wondering who would be most sympathetic. Who would welcome her.
And then, of a sudden, depression swept back. It caught her so unexpectedly that she had to sit down on the edge of the unmade bed, dropping her towel to the floor. "Oh, Christ! Oh, Christ! What in hell's wrong with you, Mavis?"
A knock on her door interrupted the catharsis before it had properly got under way.
"Yes?"
"Miss Ming?" It was, of course, Doctor Volospion.
"This is it, Mavis." She pulled herself together. She put on a robe. "Time for the tongue-lashing. Well, I'll tell him I'm leaving. He'll be glad of that." She raised her voice. "Come in!"
But he was smiling when he entered.
She looked at him in nervous astonishment.
He was dressed in robes of scarlet and green. There was a tight-fitting dark green hood on his head, emphasizing the sharpness of his features.
"You are well, Miss Ming?" As he spoke he drew on dark green gloves.
"Better than I thought. I wanted to…"
"I came to apologize," he said.
She had glanced at his hand before the glove went on. There was, of course, no sign of her scratch.
"Oh," she said. She was taken aback.
"If I had realized exactly how badly that Mr Bloom affected you, I would never have subjected you to the ordeal," he said.
"Well, you weren't to know." She bit her lip, as if she sensed her determination dissipating already.
"The fault was wholly mine." He had all his old authority. It comforted her.
"I lost my cool, I guess." Her voice shook. "I'm sorry about your hand."
"I deserved worse."
His voice was warm and, as always, it caused her to purr. It would not have been surprising if she had arched her back and rubbed her body against him. "That Mr Bloom, he just freaks me, Doctor Volospion. I don't know what it is. I suppose I've completely blown it for you, haven't I?"
"No, no," he reassured her.
"You talked? After I'd gone?"
"Somewhat. He remains quite adamant."
"He won't give you the Grail?"
"Unfortunately not…"
"It was my fault. I'm really sorry." She responded almost without any sort of consciousness, mesmerized by him.
"It grieves me. I can think of no way of obtaining it without your help."
"You know I'd like to." The words emerged as if another spoke them for her. "I mean, if there's anything I can do to make up for what happened last night…"
"I would not put you to further embarrassment." He turned to leave.
"Oh, no!" She paused, making an effort of will. "I mean, I couldn't face actually seeing him again, but if there's anything else…"
"I can think of nothing. Goodbye, Miss Ming."
"There must be something?"
He paused by the door, frowning. "Well, I suppose it is possible for you to get the Grail for me."
"How?"
"He said that he would allow you to see it, you recall?"
"I can't really remember the details of what he said. I was too frightened."
"Quite. You see somehow he controls his ship's protective devices from where he is. After you had gone he told me again that he would let you see the Grail, but not me. I think he believes that if you see it you will realize that he is this spiritual saviour he sets himself up to be."
"You mean I could get into the ship and find the Grail?"
"Exactly. Once I had it in my possession, I would let him go. You would be free of him."
"But he'd suspect."
"His infatuation blinds him."
"I wouldn't have to see him again?" She spoke as firmly as she could. "I won't do that, whatever else."
"You will never be asked to go to the menagerie and, in a while, he will have left this planet."
"It's stealing, of course," she said.
"Call it recompense for all the damage he has done while here. Call it justice."
"Yes. That's fair enough."
"But no," he looked kindly down on her, "I ask too much of you."
"You don't, really." He had inspired in her a kind of eager courage. "Let me help."
"He has assured me that he will lower the barriers of his ship for you alone."
"Then it's up to Mavis, isn't it?"
"If you feel you can do it, Miss Ming, I would show my gratitude to you in many ways when you returned with the cup."
"It's enough to help out." But she glanced at the power rings on his gloved fingers. "When shall I go?" She paused. "There won't be any danger, I suppose…?"
"None at all. He genuinely loves you, Miss Ming. Of course, if you consider this action a betrayal of Mr Bloom…"
"Betrayal? I didn't make any deals with him."
His voice was rich with gratification. "It would mean much to me, as you know. My collection is important to my happiness. If I thought that I possessed an artefact that was not authentic, well, I should never be content."
"Rely on Mavis." Her eyes began to shine.
"You are possessed of a great and admirable generosity," he said.
His praise sent a pulse of well-being through her whole body.
"What can he do, after all?" she asked herself. She still wore the mou-mou. She looked at the ripped sleeve, and she inspected the bruise on her arm. She doubted if the scratch she had given Doctor Volospion was any worse than the bruise he had given her, but she also recalled that, in her experience, men had a different way of looking at these things.
"Why do I feel so good? Because of a fight?" She was almost buoyant. "Maybe because it's over. I tried to please him. I really tried. But he's got a way of double-binding a girl like nobody else's. I guess little Mavis will have to find a new berth."
She removed the mou-mou and went to take a shower. "Well, it was high time for a change. And I'm not much gone on sharing the same roof with that mad midget downstairs."
The shower was refreshing.
"I'm going to go out. I'm going to visit a few people. Now," elbow on palm of hand, fingertip to chin, "who shall I visit first?"
She reviewed her acquaintances, wondering who would be most sympathetic. Who would welcome her.
And then, of a sudden, depression swept back. It caught her so unexpectedly that she had to sit down on the edge of the unmade bed, dropping her towel to the floor. "Oh, Christ! Oh, Christ! What in hell's wrong with you, Mavis?"
A knock on her door interrupted the catharsis before it had properly got under way.
"Yes?"
"Miss Ming?" It was, of course, Doctor Volospion.
"This is it, Mavis." She pulled herself together. She put on a robe. "Time for the tongue-lashing. Well, I'll tell him I'm leaving. He'll be glad of that." She raised her voice. "Come in!"
But he was smiling when he entered.
She looked at him in nervous astonishment.
He was dressed in robes of scarlet and green. There was a tight-fitting dark green hood on his head, emphasizing the sharpness of his features.
"You are well, Miss Ming?" As he spoke he drew on dark green gloves.
"Better than I thought. I wanted to…"
"I came to apologize," he said.
She had glanced at his hand before the glove went on. There was, of course, no sign of her scratch.
"Oh," she said. She was taken aback.
"If I had realized exactly how badly that Mr Bloom affected you, I would never have subjected you to the ordeal," he said.
"Well, you weren't to know." She bit her lip, as if she sensed her determination dissipating already.
"The fault was wholly mine." He had all his old authority. It comforted her.
"I lost my cool, I guess." Her voice shook. "I'm sorry about your hand."
"I deserved worse."
His voice was warm and, as always, it caused her to purr. It would not have been surprising if she had arched her back and rubbed her body against him. "That Mr Bloom, he just freaks me, Doctor Volospion. I don't know what it is. I suppose I've completely blown it for you, haven't I?"
"No, no," he reassured her.
"You talked? After I'd gone?"
"Somewhat. He remains quite adamant."
"He won't give you the Grail?"
"Unfortunately not…"
"It was my fault. I'm really sorry." She responded almost without any sort of consciousness, mesmerized by him.
"It grieves me. I can think of no way of obtaining it without your help."
"You know I'd like to." The words emerged as if another spoke them for her. "I mean, if there's anything I can do to make up for what happened last night…"
"I would not put you to further embarrassment." He turned to leave.
"Oh, no!" She paused, making an effort of will. "I mean, I couldn't face actually seeing him again, but if there's anything else…"
"I can think of nothing. Goodbye, Miss Ming."
"There must be something?"
He paused by the door, frowning. "Well, I suppose it is possible for you to get the Grail for me."
"How?"
"He said that he would allow you to see it, you recall?"
"I can't really remember the details of what he said. I was too frightened."
"Quite. You see somehow he controls his ship's protective devices from where he is. After you had gone he told me again that he would let you see the Grail, but not me. I think he believes that if you see it you will realize that he is this spiritual saviour he sets himself up to be."
"You mean I could get into the ship and find the Grail?"
"Exactly. Once I had it in my possession, I would let him go. You would be free of him."
"But he'd suspect."
"His infatuation blinds him."
"I wouldn't have to see him again?" She spoke as firmly as she could. "I won't do that, whatever else."
"You will never be asked to go to the menagerie and, in a while, he will have left this planet."
"It's stealing, of course," she said.
"Call it recompense for all the damage he has done while here. Call it justice."
"Yes. That's fair enough."
"But no," he looked kindly down on her, "I ask too much of you."
"You don't, really." He had inspired in her a kind of eager courage. "Let me help."
"He has assured me that he will lower the barriers of his ship for you alone."
"Then it's up to Mavis, isn't it?"
"If you feel you can do it, Miss Ming, I would show my gratitude to you in many ways when you returned with the cup."
"It's enough to help out." But she glanced at the power rings on his gloved fingers. "When shall I go?" She paused. "There won't be any danger, I suppose…?"
"None at all. He genuinely loves you, Miss Ming. Of course, if you consider this action a betrayal of Mr Bloom…"
"Betrayal? I didn't make any deals with him."
His voice was rich with gratification. "It would mean much to me, as you know. My collection is important to my happiness. If I thought that I possessed an artefact that was not authentic, well, I should never be content."
"Rely on Mavis." Her eyes began to shine.
"You are possessed of a great and admirable generosity," he said.
His praise sent a pulse of well-being through her whole body.
15. In which Mavis Ming sets off in search of the Holy Grail
Doctor Volospion had made no alterations to his force-screen since the Fireclown had passed beyond it. Mavis Ming moved through the eternal twilight of the castle's grounds, towards the dark and ragged hole in the wall of ice. On the other side of the hole she could see the brilliant scarlet of Emmanuel Bloom's ship.
Gingerly she stepped through the gap, sensitive to the stillness and silence of her surroundings. She wished that Doctor Volospion had been able to accompany her, at least this far, but he was wary, he had told her, of the Fireclown suspecting treachery. If Bloom detected another presence it was likely that he would immediately restore his ship's defences.
The teardrop-shaped ship was a red silhouette against a background of dark trees. Its airlock remained open, its ramp was down. She paused as she looked up at it.
It was impossible from where she stood to see anything of the ship's interior, but she could smell a warm mustiness coming from the entrance, together with a suggestion of pale smoke. If she had not known otherwise, she might have suspected the Fireclown still inside. The ship was redolent of his presence.
She spoke aloud, to dispel the silence. "Here goes, Mavis."
She was wearing her blue and orange kimono over her bikini, for Doctor Volospion had warned her that it might be uncomfortably warm within the Fireclown's ship. She struggled up the pebbled surface of the ramp and hesitated again outside the entrance, peering in. It seemed to her that points of fire still flickered on the other side of the airlock's open door.
"Coo-ee!" she said.
She wet her lips. "What manner of creature is lord of this fair castle?" She reassured herself with the language of her favourite books. "Shall I find my handsome prince within? Or an ugly ogre…?" She shuddered. She looked back at the battlements and towers of gloomy Castle Volospion, hoping perhaps to see her protector, but the castle seemed entirely deserted. She drew a breath and entered the airlock. It was not quite so warm as she had been led to believe.
She moved from the airlock into the true interior of the ship. She found herself pleasantly surprised by its ordinariness. It was as if firelight illuminated the large chamber, although the source of that light was mysterious.
The rosy, flickering light cast her shadow, enlarged and distorted, upon the far wall. The chamber was in disorder, as if the shock of landing had dislodged everything from its place. Boxes, parchments, books and pictures were scattered everywhere; figurines lay dented or broken upon the carpeted floor; drapes, once used to cover portholes, hung lopsidedly upon the walls, which curved inwards.
"What a lot of junk!" Her voice held more confidence. Apparently the place had been Mr Bloom's store-room, for there was no sign of furniture.
She stumbled over crates and bales of cloth until she reached a companionway leading up to the next chamber. Doctor Volospion had told her that she would probably find the cup in the control room, which must be above. She climbed, pushed open a hatch, and found herself in a circular room which was lit very similarly to the storage chamber, but so realistically that she found herself searching for the open fireplace which seemed to be the source of the light.
Save for a faint smell of burning timber, there was no sign of a fire.
"Mavis," she said determinedly, "keep that imagination of yours well under control!"
This room, as she had suspected, was the Fireclown's living quarters. It contained a good-sized bed, shelves, storage lockers, a desk, a chair and a screen whereby the occupant could check the ship's functions.
She wiped sweat from her forehead, glancing around her.
Against one wall, at the end of the bed, was a large metal ziggurat which looked as if it had once been the base for something else. Would this be where the cup was normally kept? If so, Emmanuel Bloom had hidden it and her job was going to be harder. On the wall were various pictures: some were paintings, others photographs and holographs, primarily of men in the costumes of many periods. On the wall, too, was a narrow shelf, about two feet long, apparently empty. She reached to touch it and felt something there. It was thin, like a long pencil. Curiously she rolled the object towards her until it fell into her hand. She was surprised.
It was an old-fashioned riding crop, its tip frayed and dividing at one end; a silver head at the other. The head was beautifully made — a woman's face in what the Italians called the "stile Liberty." Mavis was impressed most by the look of ineffable tranquillity upon the features. The contrast between the woman's expression and the function of the whip itself disturbed Mavis so much that she replaced it hastily.
Wishing that the light were stronger, she began to search for the cup or goblet (Doctor Volospion's description had been vague). First she looked under the bed, finding only a collection of books and manuscripts, many of them dusty.
"This whole ship could do with a good spring-clean!" She searched through the wardrobe and drawers, finding a collection of clothes to match those worn by the men whose pictures decorated the wall. This sudden intimacy with Mr Bloom's personal possessions had not only whetted her curiosity about him — his clothes, to her, were much more interesting than anything he had said — but had somehow given her a greater sympathy for him.
She began to feel unhappy about rummaging through his things; her search for the goblet began increasingly to seem like simple thievery.
Her search became more rapid as she sought to find the Grail and leave as soon as she could. If she had not made a promise to Doctor Volospion she would have left the ship there and then.
"You're a fool, Mavis. Everyone's told you. And do you ever listen?"
As she opened a mahogany trunk, inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl, the lid squeaked and, at the same time, she thought she heard a faint noise from below. She paused and listened, but there was no further sound. She saw at once that the trunk contained only faded manuscripts.
Miss Ming decided to return to the store-room. The curiosity which had at first directed her energy was now dissipating, to be replaced by a familiar sense of panic.
She felt her heart-rate increase and the ship seemed to give a series of little tremors, in sympathy. She returned to the companionway and lifted the hatch. She was halfway down when the whole ship shook itself like an animal, roared, as if sentient, and she was pressed back against the steps, clinging to the rail as, swaying from side to side, the ship took off.
Sweating, Miss Ming turned herself round with difficulty and began to climb back towards the living quarters where she felt she would be safer. If her throat had been less constricted she would have screamed. The ship, she knew, was taking off under its own power. It was quite possible that she had activated it herself. Unless she could work out how to control it she would soon be adrift in the cosmos, floating through space until she died.
And she would be all alone.
It was this latter thought which terrified her most. She reached the cabin and crawled across the dusty carpet as the pressure increased, climbing onto the bed in the hope that it would cushion the acceleration effects.
The sensations she was experiencing were not dissimilar to those she had experienced on her trip through time and, as such, did not alarm her. It was the prospect of what would become of her when the ship was beyond Earth's gravity which she could not bear to consider.
It was not, she thought, as if there were many planets left in the universe. Earth might now be the only one.
The pressure began to lift, but she remained face-down upon the bed ("these sheets could do with a wash," she was thinking) even when it was obvious that the ship was travelling at last through free space.
"Oh, you've let yourself in for it this time, Mavis," she told herself. "You've been conned properly, my girl."
She wondered if, for reasons of his own, Doctor Volospion had deliberately sent her into space. She knew his capacity for revenge. Had that silly tiff meant so much to him? He had beguiled her into suggesting her own trap, her own punishment, just because of a silly scratch on the hand!
"What a bastard! What bastards they all are!" And what an idiot she had made of herself! It taught you never to be sympathetic to a man. They always used it against you. "That's Mavis all over," she continued, "trusting the world. And this is how the world repays you!" But there was little conviction in her tone; her self-pity was half-hearted. Actually, she realized, she was not feeling particularly bad now that there was a genuine threat to her life. All the little anxieties fled away.
Miss Ming began to roll over on the bed. At least the ship itself was comfortable enough.
"It's cosy, really." She smiled. "A sort of den. Just like when I was a little girl, with my own little room, and my books and dolls." She laughed. "I'm actually safer here than anywhere I've been since I grew up. It shouldn't be difficult to work out a way of getting back to Earth — if I want to go back. What's Earth got to offer, anyway, except deceit, hypocrisy and treachery?"
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She looked at her new home, all her new toys.
"I think it's really what I've always wanted," she declared.
"Now you realize that I spoke the truth!" said the triumphant voice of Emmanuel Bloom from the shadows overhead.
"My God!" said Miss Ming as she realized the full extent of Doctor Volospion's deception.
Gingerly she stepped through the gap, sensitive to the stillness and silence of her surroundings. She wished that Doctor Volospion had been able to accompany her, at least this far, but he was wary, he had told her, of the Fireclown suspecting treachery. If Bloom detected another presence it was likely that he would immediately restore his ship's defences.
The teardrop-shaped ship was a red silhouette against a background of dark trees. Its airlock remained open, its ramp was down. She paused as she looked up at it.
It was impossible from where she stood to see anything of the ship's interior, but she could smell a warm mustiness coming from the entrance, together with a suggestion of pale smoke. If she had not known otherwise, she might have suspected the Fireclown still inside. The ship was redolent of his presence.
She spoke aloud, to dispel the silence. "Here goes, Mavis."
She was wearing her blue and orange kimono over her bikini, for Doctor Volospion had warned her that it might be uncomfortably warm within the Fireclown's ship. She struggled up the pebbled surface of the ramp and hesitated again outside the entrance, peering in. It seemed to her that points of fire still flickered on the other side of the airlock's open door.
"Coo-ee!" she said.
She wet her lips. "What manner of creature is lord of this fair castle?" She reassured herself with the language of her favourite books. "Shall I find my handsome prince within? Or an ugly ogre…?" She shuddered. She looked back at the battlements and towers of gloomy Castle Volospion, hoping perhaps to see her protector, but the castle seemed entirely deserted. She drew a breath and entered the airlock. It was not quite so warm as she had been led to believe.
She moved from the airlock into the true interior of the ship. She found herself pleasantly surprised by its ordinariness. It was as if firelight illuminated the large chamber, although the source of that light was mysterious.
The rosy, flickering light cast her shadow, enlarged and distorted, upon the far wall. The chamber was in disorder, as if the shock of landing had dislodged everything from its place. Boxes, parchments, books and pictures were scattered everywhere; figurines lay dented or broken upon the carpeted floor; drapes, once used to cover portholes, hung lopsidedly upon the walls, which curved inwards.
"What a lot of junk!" Her voice held more confidence. Apparently the place had been Mr Bloom's store-room, for there was no sign of furniture.
She stumbled over crates and bales of cloth until she reached a companionway leading up to the next chamber. Doctor Volospion had told her that she would probably find the cup in the control room, which must be above. She climbed, pushed open a hatch, and found herself in a circular room which was lit very similarly to the storage chamber, but so realistically that she found herself searching for the open fireplace which seemed to be the source of the light.
Save for a faint smell of burning timber, there was no sign of a fire.
"Mavis," she said determinedly, "keep that imagination of yours well under control!"
This room, as she had suspected, was the Fireclown's living quarters. It contained a good-sized bed, shelves, storage lockers, a desk, a chair and a screen whereby the occupant could check the ship's functions.
She wiped sweat from her forehead, glancing around her.
Against one wall, at the end of the bed, was a large metal ziggurat which looked as if it had once been the base for something else. Would this be where the cup was normally kept? If so, Emmanuel Bloom had hidden it and her job was going to be harder. On the wall were various pictures: some were paintings, others photographs and holographs, primarily of men in the costumes of many periods. On the wall, too, was a narrow shelf, about two feet long, apparently empty. She reached to touch it and felt something there. It was thin, like a long pencil. Curiously she rolled the object towards her until it fell into her hand. She was surprised.
It was an old-fashioned riding crop, its tip frayed and dividing at one end; a silver head at the other. The head was beautifully made — a woman's face in what the Italians called the "stile Liberty." Mavis was impressed most by the look of ineffable tranquillity upon the features. The contrast between the woman's expression and the function of the whip itself disturbed Mavis so much that she replaced it hastily.
Wishing that the light were stronger, she began to search for the cup or goblet (Doctor Volospion's description had been vague). First she looked under the bed, finding only a collection of books and manuscripts, many of them dusty.
"This whole ship could do with a good spring-clean!" She searched through the wardrobe and drawers, finding a collection of clothes to match those worn by the men whose pictures decorated the wall. This sudden intimacy with Mr Bloom's personal possessions had not only whetted her curiosity about him — his clothes, to her, were much more interesting than anything he had said — but had somehow given her a greater sympathy for him.
She began to feel unhappy about rummaging through his things; her search for the goblet began increasingly to seem like simple thievery.
Her search became more rapid as she sought to find the Grail and leave as soon as she could. If she had not made a promise to Doctor Volospion she would have left the ship there and then.
"You're a fool, Mavis. Everyone's told you. And do you ever listen?"
As she opened a mahogany trunk, inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl, the lid squeaked and, at the same time, she thought she heard a faint noise from below. She paused and listened, but there was no further sound. She saw at once that the trunk contained only faded manuscripts.
Miss Ming decided to return to the store-room. The curiosity which had at first directed her energy was now dissipating, to be replaced by a familiar sense of panic.
She felt her heart-rate increase and the ship seemed to give a series of little tremors, in sympathy. She returned to the companionway and lifted the hatch. She was halfway down when the whole ship shook itself like an animal, roared, as if sentient, and she was pressed back against the steps, clinging to the rail as, swaying from side to side, the ship took off.
Sweating, Miss Ming turned herself round with difficulty and began to climb back towards the living quarters where she felt she would be safer. If her throat had been less constricted she would have screamed. The ship, she knew, was taking off under its own power. It was quite possible that she had activated it herself. Unless she could work out how to control it she would soon be adrift in the cosmos, floating through space until she died.
And she would be all alone.
It was this latter thought which terrified her most. She reached the cabin and crawled across the dusty carpet as the pressure increased, climbing onto the bed in the hope that it would cushion the acceleration effects.
The sensations she was experiencing were not dissimilar to those she had experienced on her trip through time and, as such, did not alarm her. It was the prospect of what would become of her when the ship was beyond Earth's gravity which she could not bear to consider.
It was not, she thought, as if there were many planets left in the universe. Earth might now be the only one.
The pressure began to lift, but she remained face-down upon the bed ("these sheets could do with a wash," she was thinking) even when it was obvious that the ship was travelling at last through free space.
"Oh, you've let yourself in for it this time, Mavis," she told herself. "You've been conned properly, my girl."
She wondered if, for reasons of his own, Doctor Volospion had deliberately sent her into space. She knew his capacity for revenge. Had that silly tiff meant so much to him? He had beguiled her into suggesting her own trap, her own punishment, just because of a silly scratch on the hand!
"What a bastard! What bastards they all are!" And what an idiot she had made of herself! It taught you never to be sympathetic to a man. They always used it against you. "That's Mavis all over," she continued, "trusting the world. And this is how the world repays you!" But there was little conviction in her tone; her self-pity was half-hearted. Actually, she realized, she was not feeling particularly bad now that there was a genuine threat to her life. All the little anxieties fled away.
Miss Ming began to roll over on the bed. At least the ship itself was comfortable enough.
"It's cosy, really." She smiled. "A sort of den. Just like when I was a little girl, with my own little room, and my books and dolls." She laughed. "I'm actually safer here than anywhere I've been since I grew up. It shouldn't be difficult to work out a way of getting back to Earth — if I want to go back. What's Earth got to offer, anyway, except deceit, hypocrisy and treachery?"
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She looked at her new home, all her new toys.
"I think it's really what I've always wanted," she declared.
"Now you realize that I spoke the truth!" said the triumphant voice of Emmanuel Bloom from the shadows overhead.
"My God!" said Miss Ming as she realized the full extent of Doctor Volospion's deception.
16 In which Doctor Volospion receives the congratulations of his peers and celebrates the acquisition of his new Treasure
My Lady Charlotina rose from Doctor Volospion's bed and swiftly demolished her double (Doctor Volospion would only make love to pairs of women) before touching a power ring to adorn herself in white and cerise poppies. In the shadows of the four-poster Doctor Volospion lay relishing his several victories, a beautiful cup held in his hands. He turned the cup round and round, running his fingers over an inscription which he could not read, for it was in ancient English.
"You doubt none of my powers now, I hope, My Lady Charlotina," he said.
Her smile was slow. She knew he would have her speak of Jagged, perhaps make a comparison, but she did not have it in her to satisfy Volospion's curiosity. Lord Jagged was Lord Jagged, she thought.
"I was privileged," she said, "to know your plan from the start and to see it work so smoothly. I am most impressed. First you incarcerated Miss Ming, then you lured Mr Bloom to your castle, then you pretended that his power was great enough to destroy your force-field, then you captured him, knowing that he would give anything to escape. You originally meant to hold him, of course, as one of your collection, but then you learned of the Grail…"
"So I offered Miss Ming in exchange for the Grail. Thus he thought he took her from me without force and that she went willingly to him — for I did not, of course, explain to Mr Bloom that I had deceived Miss Ming."
"So much deception! It is quite hard for me to follow!" She laughed. "What a match! The greatest cynic of our world (with the exception of Lord Shark who does not really count) pitted against the greatest idealist in the universe!"
"And the cynic won," said Doctor Volospion. "As they always do."
"Well, a cynic would draw that conclusion," she pointed out. "I had a liking for that Mr Bloom, though he was a bore."
"As was Miss Ming."
"Great bores, both."
"And by one stroke I rid the world of its two most awful bores," said Doctor Volospion, in case she had not considered this achievement with the rest.
"Exactly."
Yawning, My Lady Charlotina drifted towards a dark window. "You have your cup. He has his queen."
"Exactly."
My Lady Charlotina looked up at the featureless heavens. No stars gleamed here. Perhaps they were all extinguished. She sighed.
"My only regret," said Doctor Volospion as he carefully laid the cup upon his pillow and straightened his body, "is that I was not able to ask Mr Bloom the meaning of this inscription."
"Doubtless a warning to the curious," she said "or an offer of eternal salvation. You know more about these things, Doctor Volospion."
A cap appeared on his head. Robes formed. Black velvet and mink. "Oh, yes, they are always very similar. And often disappointingly ordinary."
"It does seem a very ordinary cup."
"The faithful would see that as a sign of its true holiness," he told her knowledgeably.
From outside they detected a halloo.
"It is Abu Thaleb," she said in some animation. "And Argonheart Po and some others. Li Pao, I think, is with them. Shall you admit them?"
"Of course. They will want to see my cup."
My Lady Charlotina and Doctor Volospion left his bedroom and went down to the hall to greet their guests.
Doctor Volospion placed the cup upon the table. The ill-functioning neon played across its bright silver.
"Beautiful!" said Abu Thaleb, without as much enthusiasm as perhaps Doctor Volospion would have wished. The Commissar of Bengal brushed feathers from his eyes. "A fitting reward for your services to us all, Doctor Volospion."
Argonheart Po bore a tray in his great hands. He set this, now, beside the cup. "I am always thorough in my research," he said, "and hope you find this small offering appropriate." He removed the cloth to reveal his savouries. "That is a pemmican spear. This cross is primarily the flavour of sole a la creme. The taste of the wafers and the blood is rather more difficult to describe."
"What an elegant notion!" Doctor Volospion took one of the savouries between finger and thumb and nibbled politely.
Li Pao asked: "May I inspect the cup?"
"Of course." Doctor Volospion waved a generous hand. "You do not, by any chance, read, do you, Li Pao? Specifically, Dawn Age English."
"Once," said Li Pao. He studied the inscription. He shook his head. "I am baffled."
"A great shame."
"Does it do anything," wondered Sweet Orb Mace, moving from the shadows where he had been studying Doctor Volospion's portrait.
"I think not," said My Lady Charlotina. "It has done nothing yet, at any rate."
Doctor Volospion stared at his cup somewhat wistfully. "Ah, well," he said, "I fear I shall grow tired of it soon enough."
My Lady Charlotina came to stand beside him. "Perhaps it will fill the room with light or something," she said encouragingly.
"We can always hope," he said.
"You doubt none of my powers now, I hope, My Lady Charlotina," he said.
Her smile was slow. She knew he would have her speak of Jagged, perhaps make a comparison, but she did not have it in her to satisfy Volospion's curiosity. Lord Jagged was Lord Jagged, she thought.
"I was privileged," she said, "to know your plan from the start and to see it work so smoothly. I am most impressed. First you incarcerated Miss Ming, then you lured Mr Bloom to your castle, then you pretended that his power was great enough to destroy your force-field, then you captured him, knowing that he would give anything to escape. You originally meant to hold him, of course, as one of your collection, but then you learned of the Grail…"
"So I offered Miss Ming in exchange for the Grail. Thus he thought he took her from me without force and that she went willingly to him — for I did not, of course, explain to Mr Bloom that I had deceived Miss Ming."
"So much deception! It is quite hard for me to follow!" She laughed. "What a match! The greatest cynic of our world (with the exception of Lord Shark who does not really count) pitted against the greatest idealist in the universe!"
"And the cynic won," said Doctor Volospion. "As they always do."
"Well, a cynic would draw that conclusion," she pointed out. "I had a liking for that Mr Bloom, though he was a bore."
"As was Miss Ming."
"Great bores, both."
"And by one stroke I rid the world of its two most awful bores," said Doctor Volospion, in case she had not considered this achievement with the rest.
"Exactly."
Yawning, My Lady Charlotina drifted towards a dark window. "You have your cup. He has his queen."
"Exactly."
My Lady Charlotina looked up at the featureless heavens. No stars gleamed here. Perhaps they were all extinguished. She sighed.
"My only regret," said Doctor Volospion as he carefully laid the cup upon his pillow and straightened his body, "is that I was not able to ask Mr Bloom the meaning of this inscription."
"Doubtless a warning to the curious," she said "or an offer of eternal salvation. You know more about these things, Doctor Volospion."
A cap appeared on his head. Robes formed. Black velvet and mink. "Oh, yes, they are always very similar. And often disappointingly ordinary."
"It does seem a very ordinary cup."
"The faithful would see that as a sign of its true holiness," he told her knowledgeably.
From outside they detected a halloo.
"It is Abu Thaleb," she said in some animation. "And Argonheart Po and some others. Li Pao, I think, is with them. Shall you admit them?"
"Of course. They will want to see my cup."
My Lady Charlotina and Doctor Volospion left his bedroom and went down to the hall to greet their guests.
Doctor Volospion placed the cup upon the table. The ill-functioning neon played across its bright silver.
"Beautiful!" said Abu Thaleb, without as much enthusiasm as perhaps Doctor Volospion would have wished. The Commissar of Bengal brushed feathers from his eyes. "A fitting reward for your services to us all, Doctor Volospion."
Argonheart Po bore a tray in his great hands. He set this, now, beside the cup. "I am always thorough in my research," he said, "and hope you find this small offering appropriate." He removed the cloth to reveal his savouries. "That is a pemmican spear. This cross is primarily the flavour of sole a la creme. The taste of the wafers and the blood is rather more difficult to describe."
"What an elegant notion!" Doctor Volospion took one of the savouries between finger and thumb and nibbled politely.
Li Pao asked: "May I inspect the cup?"
"Of course." Doctor Volospion waved a generous hand. "You do not, by any chance, read, do you, Li Pao? Specifically, Dawn Age English."
"Once," said Li Pao. He studied the inscription. He shook his head. "I am baffled."
"A great shame."
"Does it do anything," wondered Sweet Orb Mace, moving from the shadows where he had been studying Doctor Volospion's portrait.
"I think not," said My Lady Charlotina. "It has done nothing yet, at any rate."
Doctor Volospion stared at his cup somewhat wistfully. "Ah, well," he said, "I fear I shall grow tired of it soon enough."
My Lady Charlotina came to stand beside him. "Perhaps it will fill the room with light or something," she said encouragingly.
"We can always hope," he said.
17. In which Miss Mavis Ming at last attains a State of Grace
Emmanuel Bloom swung himself from the ceiling, an awkward macaw. He no longer wore his paint and motley but was again dressed in his black velvet suit.
Mavis Ming saw that he had entered by means of a hatch. Doubtless the control cabin of the ship was above.
"My Goddess," said the Fireclown.
She still sat on the edge of the bed. Her voice was without emotion. "You traded me for the cup. That's what it was all about. What a fool I am!"
"No, not you. Doctor Volospion proposed the bargain and so enabled me to keep my word to him. He demanded the cup which I kept in my ship. I gave it to him." He strutted across the cabin and manipulated a dial. Red-gold light began to fill his living quarters. Now everything glowed and each piece of fabric, wood or metal seemed to have a life of its own.
Mavis Ming stood up and edged away from the bed. She drew her kimono about her, over her pendulous breasts, her fat stomach, her wide thighs.
"Listen," she began. She was breathing rapidly once more. "You can't really want me, Mr Bloom. I'm fat old Mavis. I'm ugly. I'm stupid. I'm selfish. I should be left on my own. I'm better off on my own. I know I'm always looking for company, but really it's just because I never realized…"
He raised a stiff right arm in a gesture of impatience. "What has any of that to do with my love for you? What does it matter if foolish Volospion thought he was killing two birds with one stone when he was actually freeing two eagles?"
"Look," she said, "if…"
"I am the Fireclown! I am Bloom, the Fireclown! I have lived the span of Man's existence. I have made Time and Space my toys. I have juggled with chronons and made the multiverse laugh. I have mocked Reality and Reality has shrivelled to be re-born. My eyes have stared unblinking into the hearts of stars, and I have stood at the very core of the Sun and feasted on freshly created photons. I am Bloom, Eternally Blooming Bloom. Bloom the Phoenix. Bloom, the Destroyer of Darkness. These eyes, these large bulging eyes of mine, do you think they cannot see into souls as easily as they see into suns? Can they not detect an aura of pain that disguises the true centre of a being as smoke hides fire? That is why I choose to make you wise, to enslave you so that you may know true freedom."
Miss Ming forced herself to speak. "This is kidnapping and kidnapping is kidnapping whatever you prefer to call it…"
He ignored her.
"Of all the beings on that wasteland planet, you were one of the few who still lived. Oh, you lived as a frightened rodent lives, your spirit perverted, your mind enshelled with cynicism, refusing for a moment to look upon Reality for fear that it would detect you and devour you, like a wakened lion. Yet when Reality occasionally impinged and could not be escaped, how did you respond?"
"Look," she said, "you've got no right…"
"Right? I have every right! I am Bloom! You are my Bride, my Consort, my Queen, my Goddess. There is no woman deserves the honour more!"
"Oh, Christ!" she said. "Please let me go. Please, I can't give you anything. I can't understand you. I can't love you." She began to cry. "I've never loved anyone! No-one but myself."
His voice was gentle. He took a few jerky steps closer to her. "You lie, Mavis Ming. You do not love yourself."
"Donny said I did. They all said I did, sooner or later."
"If you loved yourself," he told her, "you would love me."
Her voice shook. "That's good…"
To Mavis Ming's own ears her words were without resonance of any kind. The collection of platitudes with which she had always responded to experience; the borrowed ironies, the barren tropes with which, instinctively, she had encumbered herself in order to placate a world she had seen as essentially malevolent, all were at once revealed as the meaningless things they were, with the result that an appalling self-consciousness, worse than anything she had suffered in the past, swept over her and every phrase she had ever uttered seemed to ring in her ears for what it had been: A mewl of pain, a whimper of frustration, a cry for attention, a groan of hunger.
"Oh…"
She became incapable of speech. She could only stare at him, backing around the wall as he came, half-strutting, half-hopping, towards her, his head to one side, an appalling amusement in his unwinking, protuberant eyes, until her escape was blocked by a heavy wardrobe.
She was incapable of movement. She watched as he reached a twitching hand towards her face; the hand was firm and gentle as it touched her and its warmth made her realize how cold, how clammy, her own skin felt. She was close to collapse, only supported by the wall of the ship.
"The Earth is far behind us now," he said. "We shall never return. It does not deserve us." He pointed to the bed. "Go there. Remove your clothes."
She gasped at him, trying to make him understand that she could not walk. She did not care, now, what his intentions were, but she was too exhausted to obey him.
"Tired…" she said at last.
He shook his head. "No. You shall not escape by that route, madam." He spoke kindly. "Come."
The high-pitched ridiculous voice carried greater authority than any she had heard before. She began to walk towards the bed. She stood looking down at the sheets; the light made these, too, seem vibrant with life of their own. She felt his little clawlike hands pull the kimono from her shoulders, undo the tie, removing the garment entirely.
She felt him break the fastening on her bikini top so that her breasts hung even lower on her body. She felt no revulsion, nothing sexual at all, as his fingers pushed the bikini bottom over her hips and down her legs. And yet she was more aware of her nakedness than she had ever been, seeing the fatness, the pale flesh, without any emotion at all, remarking its poor condition as if it did not belong to her.
"Fat…" she murmured.
His voice was distant. "It is of no importance, this body. Besides, it shall not be fat for very long."
She began to anticipate his rape of her, wondering if, when he began, she would feel anything. He ordered her to lie face-down upon the bed. She obeyed. She heard him move away, then. Perhaps he was undressing. She turned to look, but he was still in his tattered velvet suit, taking something from a shelf. She saw that he held the whip in his hand, the one she had discovered earlier.
She tried to feel afraid, because she knew that she should feel fear, but fear would not come. She continued to look up at him, over her shoulder, as he returned. Still her body made no response. This was quite unlike her fantasies of flagellation. What happened now excited neither her imagination nor her body. She wished that she could feel something, even terror. Instead she was possessed by a calmness, a sense of inevitability, unlike anything she had known.
"Now," she heard him say, "I shall bring your blood into the light. And with it shall come the devils that inhabit it, to be withered as weeds in the sun. And when I have finished you will know Rebirth, Freedom, Dominion over the Multiverse, and more."
Was it a mark of her own insanity that she could detect no insanity in his words?
The whip fell upon her flesh. It struck her buttocks and the pain stole her breath. She did not scream, but she gasped.
It struck again, just below the first place, and she thought his flames lashed her. Her whole body jerked, trying to escape, but a firm hand held her down again, and again the whip fell.
She did not scream, but she groaned as she drew in her breath. The next stroke was upon her thighs, the next behind her knees, and his hands were cruel now as she struggled. He held her by the back of the neck; he gripped her by the shoulder, by the loose flesh of her waist, and each time he gripped her she knew fresh pain.
Mavis Ming believed at last that it was Emmanuel Bloom's intention to flay her alive, to tear every piece of skin from her body. He held her lips, her ears, her breasts, her vagina, the tender parts of her inner thighs, and every touch was fire.
She screamed, she blubbered for him to stop, she could not believe that he, any more than she, was any longer in control of what was happening. And yet the whip fell with a regularity which denied her even this consolation, until, at length, her whole body burned and she lay still, consumed.
Slowly the fire faded from this peak of intensity and it seemed to her that, again, her body and her mind were united; this unity was new.
Emmanuel Bloom said nothing. She heard him cross the chamber to replace the whip. She began to breathe with deep regularity, as if she slept. Her consciousness of her body induced an indefinable emotion in her. She moved her head to look at him and the movement was painful.
"I feel…" Her voice was soft.
He stood with his arms stiffly at his sides. His head was cocked, his expression was tender and expectant.
She could find no word.
"It is your pride," he said.
He reached to caress her face.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you." She began to weep.
He made her rise and look at her body in the oval mirror he revealed. It seemed that her skin was a lattice of long, red bruises; she could see where he had gripped her shoulders and her breasts. The pain was hard to tolerate without making at least a whisper of sound, but she controlled herself.
"Will you do this again?" It was almost a request.
He shook his little head.
She walked back to the bed. Her back, though lacerated, was straight. She had never walked in that way before, with dignity. She sat down. "Why did you do it?"
"In this manner? Perhaps because I lack patience. It is one of my characteristics. It was quick." He laughed. "Why do it to you, at all? Because I love you. Because I wished to reveal to you the woman that you are, the individual that you are. I had to destroy the shell."
"It won't fade, this feeling?"
"Only the scars will go. It is within you to retain the rest. Will you be my wife?"
She smiled. "Yes."
"Well, then, this has been a satisfactory expedition, after all. Better, really, than I expected. Oh, what leaping delights we shall share, what wonders I can show you! No woman could desire more than to be the consort of Bloom, the Good Soldier, the Champion Eternal, the Master of the Multiverse!"
"And my master, too."
"As you are my mistress, Mavis Ming." He fell with a peculiar, spastic jerk, on his knees beside her. "For Eternity. Will you stay? I can return you within an hour or two."
"I will stay," she said. "Yet you gave up so much for me. That cup. It was your honour?"
He looked shamefaced. "He asked for the cup I kept in my ship. I could not give him the Holy Grail, for it is not mine to give. I gave him something almost as dear to me, however. If Doctor Volospion ever deciphers the inscription on the cup he will discover that it was awarded, in 1980, to Leonard Bloom, by the Union of Master Bakers, for the best matzo bread of the Annual Bakery Show, Whitechapel, London. He was a very good baker, my father. I loved him. I had kept his cup in all my journeys back and forth through the time streams and it was the most valuable thing I possessed."
"So you do not have the Grail." She smiled. "It was all part of your plan — pretending to own it, pretending to be powerless — you tricked Doctor Volospion completely."
"And he tricked me. Both are satisfied, for it is unlikely he shall ever know the extent of my trickery and doubtless considers himself a fine fellow now! All are satisfied!"
"And now…?" she began.
"And now," he said, "I'll leave you. I must set my controls. You shall see all that is left of this universe and then, through the centre of the brightest star, into the greater vastness of the multiverse beyond! There we shall find others to inspire and if we find no life at all, upon our wanderings, it is within our power to create it, for I am the Fireclown. I am the Voice of the Sun! Aha! Look! It has come to you, too. This, my love, is Grace. This is our reward!"
The cabin was filled suddenly by brilliant golden light, apparently having as its source a beam which entered through the very shell of the spaceship, falling directly upon the ziggurat at the end of the bed.
A smell, like sweet spring flowers after the rain, filled the cabin, and then a crystal cup, brimming with scarlet liquid, appeared at the top of the ziggurat.
Scarlet rays spread from a hundred points in the crystal, almost blinding her, and, although Mavis Ming could hear nothing, she received an impression of sonorous, delicate music. She could not help herself as she lifted her aching body from the bed to the floor and knelt, staring into the goblet in awe.
From behind her the Fireclown chuckled and he knelt beside her, taking her hand.
"We are married now," he said, "before the Holy Grail. Married individually and together. And this is our Trust which shall be taken from us should we ever commit the sin of accidie. Here is proof of all my claims. Here is Hope. And should we ever cease to forget our purpose, should we ever fall into that sin of inertia, should we lose for more than a moment, our Faith in our high resolve, the Grail will leave us and shall vanish forever from the sight of Man, for I am Bloom, the Last Pure Knight, and you are the Pure Lady, chastized and chaste, who shall share these Mysteries with me."
She began: "It is too much. I am not capable…" But then she lifted her head and she smiled, staring into the very heart of the goblet. "Very well."
"Look," he said, as the vision began to fade, "your wounds have vanished."
Mavis Ming saw that he had entered by means of a hatch. Doubtless the control cabin of the ship was above.
"My Goddess," said the Fireclown.
She still sat on the edge of the bed. Her voice was without emotion. "You traded me for the cup. That's what it was all about. What a fool I am!"
"No, not you. Doctor Volospion proposed the bargain and so enabled me to keep my word to him. He demanded the cup which I kept in my ship. I gave it to him." He strutted across the cabin and manipulated a dial. Red-gold light began to fill his living quarters. Now everything glowed and each piece of fabric, wood or metal seemed to have a life of its own.
Mavis Ming stood up and edged away from the bed. She drew her kimono about her, over her pendulous breasts, her fat stomach, her wide thighs.
"Listen," she began. She was breathing rapidly once more. "You can't really want me, Mr Bloom. I'm fat old Mavis. I'm ugly. I'm stupid. I'm selfish. I should be left on my own. I'm better off on my own. I know I'm always looking for company, but really it's just because I never realized…"
He raised a stiff right arm in a gesture of impatience. "What has any of that to do with my love for you? What does it matter if foolish Volospion thought he was killing two birds with one stone when he was actually freeing two eagles?"
"Look," she said, "if…"
"I am the Fireclown! I am Bloom, the Fireclown! I have lived the span of Man's existence. I have made Time and Space my toys. I have juggled with chronons and made the multiverse laugh. I have mocked Reality and Reality has shrivelled to be re-born. My eyes have stared unblinking into the hearts of stars, and I have stood at the very core of the Sun and feasted on freshly created photons. I am Bloom, Eternally Blooming Bloom. Bloom the Phoenix. Bloom, the Destroyer of Darkness. These eyes, these large bulging eyes of mine, do you think they cannot see into souls as easily as they see into suns? Can they not detect an aura of pain that disguises the true centre of a being as smoke hides fire? That is why I choose to make you wise, to enslave you so that you may know true freedom."
Miss Ming forced herself to speak. "This is kidnapping and kidnapping is kidnapping whatever you prefer to call it…"
He ignored her.
"Of all the beings on that wasteland planet, you were one of the few who still lived. Oh, you lived as a frightened rodent lives, your spirit perverted, your mind enshelled with cynicism, refusing for a moment to look upon Reality for fear that it would detect you and devour you, like a wakened lion. Yet when Reality occasionally impinged and could not be escaped, how did you respond?"
"Look," she said, "you've got no right…"
"Right? I have every right! I am Bloom! You are my Bride, my Consort, my Queen, my Goddess. There is no woman deserves the honour more!"
"Oh, Christ!" she said. "Please let me go. Please, I can't give you anything. I can't understand you. I can't love you." She began to cry. "I've never loved anyone! No-one but myself."
His voice was gentle. He took a few jerky steps closer to her. "You lie, Mavis Ming. You do not love yourself."
"Donny said I did. They all said I did, sooner or later."
"If you loved yourself," he told her, "you would love me."
Her voice shook. "That's good…"
To Mavis Ming's own ears her words were without resonance of any kind. The collection of platitudes with which she had always responded to experience; the borrowed ironies, the barren tropes with which, instinctively, she had encumbered herself in order to placate a world she had seen as essentially malevolent, all were at once revealed as the meaningless things they were, with the result that an appalling self-consciousness, worse than anything she had suffered in the past, swept over her and every phrase she had ever uttered seemed to ring in her ears for what it had been: A mewl of pain, a whimper of frustration, a cry for attention, a groan of hunger.
"Oh…"
She became incapable of speech. She could only stare at him, backing around the wall as he came, half-strutting, half-hopping, towards her, his head to one side, an appalling amusement in his unwinking, protuberant eyes, until her escape was blocked by a heavy wardrobe.
She was incapable of movement. She watched as he reached a twitching hand towards her face; the hand was firm and gentle as it touched her and its warmth made her realize how cold, how clammy, her own skin felt. She was close to collapse, only supported by the wall of the ship.
"The Earth is far behind us now," he said. "We shall never return. It does not deserve us." He pointed to the bed. "Go there. Remove your clothes."
She gasped at him, trying to make him understand that she could not walk. She did not care, now, what his intentions were, but she was too exhausted to obey him.
"Tired…" she said at last.
He shook his head. "No. You shall not escape by that route, madam." He spoke kindly. "Come."
The high-pitched ridiculous voice carried greater authority than any she had heard before. She began to walk towards the bed. She stood looking down at the sheets; the light made these, too, seem vibrant with life of their own. She felt his little clawlike hands pull the kimono from her shoulders, undo the tie, removing the garment entirely.
She felt him break the fastening on her bikini top so that her breasts hung even lower on her body. She felt no revulsion, nothing sexual at all, as his fingers pushed the bikini bottom over her hips and down her legs. And yet she was more aware of her nakedness than she had ever been, seeing the fatness, the pale flesh, without any emotion at all, remarking its poor condition as if it did not belong to her.
"Fat…" she murmured.
His voice was distant. "It is of no importance, this body. Besides, it shall not be fat for very long."
She began to anticipate his rape of her, wondering if, when he began, she would feel anything. He ordered her to lie face-down upon the bed. She obeyed. She heard him move away, then. Perhaps he was undressing. She turned to look, but he was still in his tattered velvet suit, taking something from a shelf. She saw that he held the whip in his hand, the one she had discovered earlier.
She tried to feel afraid, because she knew that she should feel fear, but fear would not come. She continued to look up at him, over her shoulder, as he returned. Still her body made no response. This was quite unlike her fantasies of flagellation. What happened now excited neither her imagination nor her body. She wished that she could feel something, even terror. Instead she was possessed by a calmness, a sense of inevitability, unlike anything she had known.
"Now," she heard him say, "I shall bring your blood into the light. And with it shall come the devils that inhabit it, to be withered as weeds in the sun. And when I have finished you will know Rebirth, Freedom, Dominion over the Multiverse, and more."
Was it a mark of her own insanity that she could detect no insanity in his words?
The whip fell upon her flesh. It struck her buttocks and the pain stole her breath. She did not scream, but she gasped.
It struck again, just below the first place, and she thought his flames lashed her. Her whole body jerked, trying to escape, but a firm hand held her down again, and again the whip fell.
She did not scream, but she groaned as she drew in her breath. The next stroke was upon her thighs, the next behind her knees, and his hands were cruel now as she struggled. He held her by the back of the neck; he gripped her by the shoulder, by the loose flesh of her waist, and each time he gripped her she knew fresh pain.
Mavis Ming believed at last that it was Emmanuel Bloom's intention to flay her alive, to tear every piece of skin from her body. He held her lips, her ears, her breasts, her vagina, the tender parts of her inner thighs, and every touch was fire.
She screamed, she blubbered for him to stop, she could not believe that he, any more than she, was any longer in control of what was happening. And yet the whip fell with a regularity which denied her even this consolation, until, at length, her whole body burned and she lay still, consumed.
Slowly the fire faded from this peak of intensity and it seemed to her that, again, her body and her mind were united; this unity was new.
Emmanuel Bloom said nothing. She heard him cross the chamber to replace the whip. She began to breathe with deep regularity, as if she slept. Her consciousness of her body induced an indefinable emotion in her. She moved her head to look at him and the movement was painful.
"I feel…" Her voice was soft.
He stood with his arms stiffly at his sides. His head was cocked, his expression was tender and expectant.
She could find no word.
"It is your pride," he said.
He reached to caress her face.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you." She began to weep.
He made her rise and look at her body in the oval mirror he revealed. It seemed that her skin was a lattice of long, red bruises; she could see where he had gripped her shoulders and her breasts. The pain was hard to tolerate without making at least a whisper of sound, but she controlled herself.
"Will you do this again?" It was almost a request.
He shook his little head.
She walked back to the bed. Her back, though lacerated, was straight. She had never walked in that way before, with dignity. She sat down. "Why did you do it?"
"In this manner? Perhaps because I lack patience. It is one of my characteristics. It was quick." He laughed. "Why do it to you, at all? Because I love you. Because I wished to reveal to you the woman that you are, the individual that you are. I had to destroy the shell."
"It won't fade, this feeling?"
"Only the scars will go. It is within you to retain the rest. Will you be my wife?"
She smiled. "Yes."
"Well, then, this has been a satisfactory expedition, after all. Better, really, than I expected. Oh, what leaping delights we shall share, what wonders I can show you! No woman could desire more than to be the consort of Bloom, the Good Soldier, the Champion Eternal, the Master of the Multiverse!"
"And my master, too."
"As you are my mistress, Mavis Ming." He fell with a peculiar, spastic jerk, on his knees beside her. "For Eternity. Will you stay? I can return you within an hour or two."
"I will stay," she said. "Yet you gave up so much for me. That cup. It was your honour?"
He looked shamefaced. "He asked for the cup I kept in my ship. I could not give him the Holy Grail, for it is not mine to give. I gave him something almost as dear to me, however. If Doctor Volospion ever deciphers the inscription on the cup he will discover that it was awarded, in 1980, to Leonard Bloom, by the Union of Master Bakers, for the best matzo bread of the Annual Bakery Show, Whitechapel, London. He was a very good baker, my father. I loved him. I had kept his cup in all my journeys back and forth through the time streams and it was the most valuable thing I possessed."
"So you do not have the Grail." She smiled. "It was all part of your plan — pretending to own it, pretending to be powerless — you tricked Doctor Volospion completely."
"And he tricked me. Both are satisfied, for it is unlikely he shall ever know the extent of my trickery and doubtless considers himself a fine fellow now! All are satisfied!"
"And now…?" she began.
"And now," he said, "I'll leave you. I must set my controls. You shall see all that is left of this universe and then, through the centre of the brightest star, into the greater vastness of the multiverse beyond! There we shall find others to inspire and if we find no life at all, upon our wanderings, it is within our power to create it, for I am the Fireclown. I am the Voice of the Sun! Aha! Look! It has come to you, too. This, my love, is Grace. This is our reward!"
The cabin was filled suddenly by brilliant golden light, apparently having as its source a beam which entered through the very shell of the spaceship, falling directly upon the ziggurat at the end of the bed.
A smell, like sweet spring flowers after the rain, filled the cabin, and then a crystal cup, brimming with scarlet liquid, appeared at the top of the ziggurat.
Scarlet rays spread from a hundred points in the crystal, almost blinding her, and, although Mavis Ming could hear nothing, she received an impression of sonorous, delicate music. She could not help herself as she lifted her aching body from the bed to the floor and knelt, staring into the goblet in awe.
From behind her the Fireclown chuckled and he knelt beside her, taking her hand.
"We are married now," he said, "before the Holy Grail. Married individually and together. And this is our Trust which shall be taken from us should we ever commit the sin of accidie. Here is proof of all my claims. Here is Hope. And should we ever cease to forget our purpose, should we ever fall into that sin of inertia, should we lose for more than a moment, our Faith in our high resolve, the Grail will leave us and shall vanish forever from the sight of Man, for I am Bloom, the Last Pure Knight, and you are the Pure Lady, chastized and chaste, who shall share these Mysteries with me."
She began: "It is too much. I am not capable…" But then she lifted her head and she smiled, staring into the very heart of the goblet. "Very well."
"Look," he said, as the vision began to fade, "your wounds have vanished."