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"But you are thinking that this is not of sufficient moment to make a great fuss about," said the Duke of Queens, as if in answer to Jherek and Lord Jagged. "And, of course, you are right. The occupant of this particular spacecraft by coincidence happened to bring a certain amplification to the theme of my party tonight. I felt he would amuse you all. So here he is. His name, as far as I can pronounce it at all, is Yusharisp. He will address you through his own translation system (which is not quite of the quality to which we are used) and I'm sure you will find him as delightful as did I when I first spoke with him a little while ago. My dear friends, I give you the space-traveller Yusharisp."
The light dimmed and then refocused on a creature standing on the other side of the transparent steel dais. The creature was about four feet tall, stood upon four bandy legs, had a round body, no head and no arms. Near the top of the body was a row of circular eyes, dotted at regular intervals about the entire circumference. There was a small triangular opening below these, which Jherek took to be the mouth. The creature was predominantly dark, muddy brown, with little flecks of green here and there. The eyes were bright, china blue. All in all, the space-traveller had a rather sour look to him.
"Greetings, people of this planet," began Yusharisp. "I come from the civilisation of Pweeli" — here the translator he was using screeched for a few seconds and Yusharisp had to cough to readjust it — "many galaxies distant. It is my self-appointed mission to travel the universe bringing with me my message. I believe it to be my duty to tell all intelligent life-forms what I know. I srrti oowo…" again a pause and a cough while Yusharisp adjusted his translator, which seemed to be a mechanical rather than an organic device of some kind, probably implanted in his equivalent of a throat by crude surgery. Jherek was interested in the device for its own sake, for he had heard of such things existing in the 19th century, or possibly a little later. "I apologise," Yusharisp continued, "for the inefficiency of my equipment. It has been put to much use over the past two or three thousand years as I have travelled the universe bearing my tidings. After I leave here, I will continue my work until, at last, I perish. It will be several thousand years more before everyone I can possibly warn has been warned." There was a sudden roaring and Jherek thought at first that it must be the lions, for he could not imagine a sound like it issuing from the tiny mouth cavity. But it was plain, from the alien's embarrassed gestures and coughs, that the translator was again malfunctioning. Jherek began to feel impatient.
"Well, I suppose it is an experience," said Lord Jagged. "Though I'm not sure that it was entirely tactful of the Duke of Queens to make it impossible for us to leave should we so desire. After all, not everyone enjoys being bored."
"Oh, you are not kind, Lord Jagged," said the equally invisible Mistress Christia. "I feel a certain sympathy for the little creature."
"Dry sgog," said the alien. "I am sorry. Dry sgog." He cleared his throat again. "I had best be as brief as possible."
The guests were beginning to talk quite loudly among themselves now.
"In short," said the alien, trying to make himself heard above a rising babble, "my people have reached the inescapable conclusion that we are living at what you might call the End of Time. The universe is about to undergo a reformation of such massive proportions that not an atom of it will remain the same. All life will, effectively, die. All suns and planets will be destroyed as the universe ends one cycle and begins another. We are doomed, fellow intelligences. We are doomed."
Jherek yawned. He wished the alien would get to the point. He began to stroke Mistress Christia's breasts.
The babble died. It was obvious that everyone was now waiting for the alien to finish.
"I see you are shocked, skree, skree, skree," said the alien. "Perhaps I could have (roar) put the news more tactfully, but I, skree, skree, have so little time. There is nothing we can do, of course, to avert our fate. We can only prepare ourselves, philosophically, skree, skree, for (roar) death."
Mistress Christia giggled. She and Jherek sank to the ground and Jherek tried to remember how the lower garment of his set was removed. Mistress Christia's had already drifted open to receive him.
"Buttons," said Jherek, who had not forgotten even this small detail.
"Isn't that amazing!" said the voice of the Duke of Queens. The voice was strained; it was disappointed; it was eager to infect them with the interest which he himself felt but which, it appeared, had failed to communicate itself to his guests. "The end of the universe! Delightful!"
"I suppose so," said Lord Jagged, feeling for Jherek's heaving back and patting it good-bye. "But it is not a very new idea, is it?"
"We are all going to die! " The Duke of Queens laughed rather mechanically. "Oh, it's delicious!"
"Good-bye, Jherek. Farewell, beautiful Mistress Christia." Lord Jagged went away. It was plain that he was disappointed in the Duke of Queens; offended, even.
"Good-bye, Lord Jagged," said Mistress Christia and Jherek together. Really, there hadn't been such a dull party in a thousand years. They separated and sat side by side on the lawn. By the sound of it, many others were drifting away, stumbling against people in the dark and apologising. It was, indeed, a disaster.
Jherek, now trying to be generous to the Duke of Queens, wondered if the thing had been deliberately engineered. Well, it was a relatively fresh experience — a party which failed.
The cities of Africa burst into flame once again and Jherek could see the dais and the Duke of Queens standing talking to the alien on the dais.
Lady Charlotina went past, not noticing Jherek and Mistress Christia, who were still sitting on the ground.
"Duke," called Lady Charlotina, "is your friend part of your menagerie?"
The Duke of Queens turned, his fine, bearded face full of dejection. It was obvious that he had not planned the failure at all.
"He must be tired, poor thing," said Mistress Christia.
"It was almost bound to happen. Sensation piled on sensation but rooted in nothing, no proper artistic conception," said Jherek maliciously. "It is what I've always said."
"Oh, Jherek. Don't be unkind."
"Well…" Jherek did feel ashamed of himself. He had been on the point of revelling in the Duke's appalling mistake. "Very well, Mistress Christia. You and I shall go and comfort him. Congratulate him, if you like, though I fear he won't believe in my sincerity." They got up.
The Duke of Queens was taken aback by Lady Charlotina's question. He said vaguely: "Menagerie? Why, no…"
"Then might I have him?"
"Yes, yes, of course."
"Thank you." Lady Charlotina gestured to the alien. "Will you come with me, please."
The alien turned several of his eyes upon her. "But I must leave. My message. You are kind to, skree, skree, invite, skree, me. Howev (roar) er, I shall have to, skree, decline." He began to move towards his ship.
Regretfully Lady Charlotina gestured with one hand and froze the alien while with the other hand she disseminated his spaceship.
" Disgusting! "
Jherek heard the voice behind him and turned, delightedly, to identify it. The person had spoken in the language of the 19th century. A woman stood there. She wore a tight-fitting grey jacket and a voluminous grey skirt which covered all but the toes of her black boots. Beneath the jacket could just be seen a white blouse with a small amount of lacework on the bodice. She had a straw, wide-brimmed hat upon her heavily coiled chestnut hair and an expression of outrage on her pretty, heart-shaped face. A time-traveller, without doubt. Jherek grinned with pleasure.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "An ancient!"
She ignored him, calling out to Lady Charlotina (who, of course, did not understand 19th century speech at all): " Let the poor creature go! Though he is neither human nor Christian, he is still one of God's creatures and has a right to his liberty! "
Jherek was speechless with delight as he watched the time-traveller stride forward, the heavy skirts swinging. Mistress Christia raised her eyebrows. "What is she saying, Jherek?"
"She must be new," he said. "She has yet to take a translation pill. She seems to want the little alien for herself. I don't understand every word, of course." He shook his head in admiration as the time-traveller laid a small hand upon Lady Charlotina's shoulder. Lady Charlotina turned in surprise.
Jherek and Mistress Christia approached the pair. The Duke of Queens peered down from the dais looking first at them and then at the frozen space creature without any understanding at all.
" What you have done you can undo, degenerate soul ," said the time-traveller to the bewildered Lady Charlotina.
"She's speaking 19th century — one of many dialects," explained Jherek, proud of his knowledge.
Lady Charlotina inspected the grey-clad woman. "Does she want to make love to me? I suppose I will, if…"
Jherek shook his head. "No. I think she wants your alien. Or, perhaps, she doesn't want you to have it. I'll speak to her. Just a moment." He turned and smiled at the ancient.
" Good evening, Fraulein. I parle the yazhak. Nay m-sdi pa ," said Jherek.
She did not appear to be reassured. But now she stared at him in equal astonishment.
" The Fraulein this ," said Jherek indicating Lady Charlotina, who listened with mild interest, " is pense que t'a make love to elle ." He was about to continue and point out that he knew that this was not the case when the time-traveller transferred her attention to him altogether and delivered a heavy smack on his cheek. This baffled him. He had no knowledge of the custom or, indeed, how to respond to it.
"I think," he said to Lady Charlotina regretfully, "that we ought to give her a pill before we go any further."
" Disgusting! " said the time-traveller again. " I shall seek someone in authority. This must be stopped. I'm beginning to believe I've had the misfortune to find myself in a colony of lunatics! "
They all watched her stalk away.
"Isn't she fine," said Jherek. "I wonder if anyone's claimed her. It almost makes me want to start my own menagerie."
The Duke of Queens lowered himself from the dais and settled beside them. He was dressed in a force-form chastity belt, feather cloak and had a conical hat of shrunken human heads. "I must apologise," he began.
"The whole thing was superb," said Jherek, all malice forgotten in his delight at meeting the time-traveller. "How did you think of it?"
"Well," said the Duke of Queens fingering his beard. "Ah…"
"A wonderful joke, juiciest of Dukes," said Mistress Christia. "We shall be talking about it for days!"
"Oh?" The Duke of Queens brightened.
"And you have shown your enormous kindness once again," said Lady Charlotina, pressing her sky blue lips and nose to his cheek, "in giving me the morbid space-traveller for my menagerie. I haven't got a round one."
"Of course, of course," said the Duke of Queens, his normal ebullience returning, though Jherek thought that the Duke rather regretted making the gift.
The Lady Charlotina made an adjustment to one of her rings and the stiff body of the little alien floated from the dais and hovered over her head, bobbing slightly, in the manner of a captive balloon.
Jherek said: "The time-traveller. Is she yours, My Lord Duke?"
"The grey one who slapped you? No. I've never seen her before. Perhaps a maverick?"
"Perhaps so." Jherek took off his opera hat and made a sweeping bow to the company. "If you will forgive me, then, I'll see if I can find her. She will add a touch to my present collection which will bring it close to perfection. Farewell."
"Good-bye, Jherek," said the Duke, almost gratefully. Sympathetically Lady Charlotina and Mistress Christia took each of his arms and led him away while Jherek bowed once more and then struck off in pursuit of his quarry.
4. Carnelian Conceives a New Affectation
5. A Menagerie of Time and Space
The light dimmed and then refocused on a creature standing on the other side of the transparent steel dais. The creature was about four feet tall, stood upon four bandy legs, had a round body, no head and no arms. Near the top of the body was a row of circular eyes, dotted at regular intervals about the entire circumference. There was a small triangular opening below these, which Jherek took to be the mouth. The creature was predominantly dark, muddy brown, with little flecks of green here and there. The eyes were bright, china blue. All in all, the space-traveller had a rather sour look to him.
"Greetings, people of this planet," began Yusharisp. "I come from the civilisation of Pweeli" — here the translator he was using screeched for a few seconds and Yusharisp had to cough to readjust it — "many galaxies distant. It is my self-appointed mission to travel the universe bringing with me my message. I believe it to be my duty to tell all intelligent life-forms what I know. I srrti oowo…" again a pause and a cough while Yusharisp adjusted his translator, which seemed to be a mechanical rather than an organic device of some kind, probably implanted in his equivalent of a throat by crude surgery. Jherek was interested in the device for its own sake, for he had heard of such things existing in the 19th century, or possibly a little later. "I apologise," Yusharisp continued, "for the inefficiency of my equipment. It has been put to much use over the past two or three thousand years as I have travelled the universe bearing my tidings. After I leave here, I will continue my work until, at last, I perish. It will be several thousand years more before everyone I can possibly warn has been warned." There was a sudden roaring and Jherek thought at first that it must be the lions, for he could not imagine a sound like it issuing from the tiny mouth cavity. But it was plain, from the alien's embarrassed gestures and coughs, that the translator was again malfunctioning. Jherek began to feel impatient.
"Well, I suppose it is an experience," said Lord Jagged. "Though I'm not sure that it was entirely tactful of the Duke of Queens to make it impossible for us to leave should we so desire. After all, not everyone enjoys being bored."
"Oh, you are not kind, Lord Jagged," said the equally invisible Mistress Christia. "I feel a certain sympathy for the little creature."
"Dry sgog," said the alien. "I am sorry. Dry sgog." He cleared his throat again. "I had best be as brief as possible."
The guests were beginning to talk quite loudly among themselves now.
"In short," said the alien, trying to make himself heard above a rising babble, "my people have reached the inescapable conclusion that we are living at what you might call the End of Time. The universe is about to undergo a reformation of such massive proportions that not an atom of it will remain the same. All life will, effectively, die. All suns and planets will be destroyed as the universe ends one cycle and begins another. We are doomed, fellow intelligences. We are doomed."
Jherek yawned. He wished the alien would get to the point. He began to stroke Mistress Christia's breasts.
The babble died. It was obvious that everyone was now waiting for the alien to finish.
"I see you are shocked, skree, skree, skree," said the alien. "Perhaps I could have (roar) put the news more tactfully, but I, skree, skree, have so little time. There is nothing we can do, of course, to avert our fate. We can only prepare ourselves, philosophically, skree, skree, for (roar) death."
Mistress Christia giggled. She and Jherek sank to the ground and Jherek tried to remember how the lower garment of his set was removed. Mistress Christia's had already drifted open to receive him.
"Buttons," said Jherek, who had not forgotten even this small detail.
"Isn't that amazing!" said the voice of the Duke of Queens. The voice was strained; it was disappointed; it was eager to infect them with the interest which he himself felt but which, it appeared, had failed to communicate itself to his guests. "The end of the universe! Delightful!"
"I suppose so," said Lord Jagged, feeling for Jherek's heaving back and patting it good-bye. "But it is not a very new idea, is it?"
"We are all going to die! " The Duke of Queens laughed rather mechanically. "Oh, it's delicious!"
"Good-bye, Jherek. Farewell, beautiful Mistress Christia." Lord Jagged went away. It was plain that he was disappointed in the Duke of Queens; offended, even.
"Good-bye, Lord Jagged," said Mistress Christia and Jherek together. Really, there hadn't been such a dull party in a thousand years. They separated and sat side by side on the lawn. By the sound of it, many others were drifting away, stumbling against people in the dark and apologising. It was, indeed, a disaster.
Jherek, now trying to be generous to the Duke of Queens, wondered if the thing had been deliberately engineered. Well, it was a relatively fresh experience — a party which failed.
The cities of Africa burst into flame once again and Jherek could see the dais and the Duke of Queens standing talking to the alien on the dais.
Lady Charlotina went past, not noticing Jherek and Mistress Christia, who were still sitting on the ground.
"Duke," called Lady Charlotina, "is your friend part of your menagerie?"
The Duke of Queens turned, his fine, bearded face full of dejection. It was obvious that he had not planned the failure at all.
"He must be tired, poor thing," said Mistress Christia.
"It was almost bound to happen. Sensation piled on sensation but rooted in nothing, no proper artistic conception," said Jherek maliciously. "It is what I've always said."
"Oh, Jherek. Don't be unkind."
"Well…" Jherek did feel ashamed of himself. He had been on the point of revelling in the Duke's appalling mistake. "Very well, Mistress Christia. You and I shall go and comfort him. Congratulate him, if you like, though I fear he won't believe in my sincerity." They got up.
The Duke of Queens was taken aback by Lady Charlotina's question. He said vaguely: "Menagerie? Why, no…"
"Then might I have him?"
"Yes, yes, of course."
"Thank you." Lady Charlotina gestured to the alien. "Will you come with me, please."
The alien turned several of his eyes upon her. "But I must leave. My message. You are kind to, skree, skree, invite, skree, me. Howev (roar) er, I shall have to, skree, decline." He began to move towards his ship.
Regretfully Lady Charlotina gestured with one hand and froze the alien while with the other hand she disseminated his spaceship.
" Disgusting! "
Jherek heard the voice behind him and turned, delightedly, to identify it. The person had spoken in the language of the 19th century. A woman stood there. She wore a tight-fitting grey jacket and a voluminous grey skirt which covered all but the toes of her black boots. Beneath the jacket could just be seen a white blouse with a small amount of lacework on the bodice. She had a straw, wide-brimmed hat upon her heavily coiled chestnut hair and an expression of outrage on her pretty, heart-shaped face. A time-traveller, without doubt. Jherek grinned with pleasure.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "An ancient!"
She ignored him, calling out to Lady Charlotina (who, of course, did not understand 19th century speech at all): " Let the poor creature go! Though he is neither human nor Christian, he is still one of God's creatures and has a right to his liberty! "
Jherek was speechless with delight as he watched the time-traveller stride forward, the heavy skirts swinging. Mistress Christia raised her eyebrows. "What is she saying, Jherek?"
"She must be new," he said. "She has yet to take a translation pill. She seems to want the little alien for herself. I don't understand every word, of course." He shook his head in admiration as the time-traveller laid a small hand upon Lady Charlotina's shoulder. Lady Charlotina turned in surprise.
Jherek and Mistress Christia approached the pair. The Duke of Queens peered down from the dais looking first at them and then at the frozen space creature without any understanding at all.
" What you have done you can undo, degenerate soul ," said the time-traveller to the bewildered Lady Charlotina.
"She's speaking 19th century — one of many dialects," explained Jherek, proud of his knowledge.
Lady Charlotina inspected the grey-clad woman. "Does she want to make love to me? I suppose I will, if…"
Jherek shook his head. "No. I think she wants your alien. Or, perhaps, she doesn't want you to have it. I'll speak to her. Just a moment." He turned and smiled at the ancient.
" Good evening, Fraulein. I parle the yazhak. Nay m-sdi pa ," said Jherek.
She did not appear to be reassured. But now she stared at him in equal astonishment.
" The Fraulein this ," said Jherek indicating Lady Charlotina, who listened with mild interest, " is pense que t'a make love to elle ." He was about to continue and point out that he knew that this was not the case when the time-traveller transferred her attention to him altogether and delivered a heavy smack on his cheek. This baffled him. He had no knowledge of the custom or, indeed, how to respond to it.
"I think," he said to Lady Charlotina regretfully, "that we ought to give her a pill before we go any further."
" Disgusting! " said the time-traveller again. " I shall seek someone in authority. This must be stopped. I'm beginning to believe I've had the misfortune to find myself in a colony of lunatics! "
They all watched her stalk away.
"Isn't she fine," said Jherek. "I wonder if anyone's claimed her. It almost makes me want to start my own menagerie."
The Duke of Queens lowered himself from the dais and settled beside them. He was dressed in a force-form chastity belt, feather cloak and had a conical hat of shrunken human heads. "I must apologise," he began.
"The whole thing was superb," said Jherek, all malice forgotten in his delight at meeting the time-traveller. "How did you think of it?"
"Well," said the Duke of Queens fingering his beard. "Ah…"
"A wonderful joke, juiciest of Dukes," said Mistress Christia. "We shall be talking about it for days!"
"Oh?" The Duke of Queens brightened.
"And you have shown your enormous kindness once again," said Lady Charlotina, pressing her sky blue lips and nose to his cheek, "in giving me the morbid space-traveller for my menagerie. I haven't got a round one."
"Of course, of course," said the Duke of Queens, his normal ebullience returning, though Jherek thought that the Duke rather regretted making the gift.
The Lady Charlotina made an adjustment to one of her rings and the stiff body of the little alien floated from the dais and hovered over her head, bobbing slightly, in the manner of a captive balloon.
Jherek said: "The time-traveller. Is she yours, My Lord Duke?"
"The grey one who slapped you? No. I've never seen her before. Perhaps a maverick?"
"Perhaps so." Jherek took off his opera hat and made a sweeping bow to the company. "If you will forgive me, then, I'll see if I can find her. She will add a touch to my present collection which will bring it close to perfection. Farewell."
"Good-bye, Jherek," said the Duke, almost gratefully. Sympathetically Lady Charlotina and Mistress Christia took each of his arms and led him away while Jherek bowed once more and then struck off in pursuit of his quarry.
4. Carnelian Conceives a New Affectation
After an hour of searching, Jherek realised that the grey time-traveller was no longer at the party. Because most of the guests had left, it had not been a difficult search. Disconsolate, he returned to his locomotive and swung aboard, throwing himself upon the long seat of plush and ermine, but hesitating before he pulled the whistle and set the aircar in motion, for he wanted something to happen to him — a compensation for his disappointment.
Either, he thought, the time-traveller had been returned to the menagerie of whomever it was that owned her, or else she had gone somewhere of her own volition. He hoped that she did not have a time-travelling machine capable of carrying her back to her own age. If she had, then it was likely she was gone forever. He seemed to remember that there was some evidence to suggest that the people of the late 19th century had possessed a crude form of time-travel.
"Ah, well," he sighed to himself, "if she has gone, she has gone."
His mother, the Iron Orchid, had left with the Lady Voiceless and Ulianov of the Palms, doubtless to revive memories of times before he had been born. Being naturally gregarious, he felt deserted. There was hardly anyone left whom he knew well or would care to take back with him to his ranch. He wanted the time-traveller. His heart was set on her. She was charming. He fingered his cheek and smiled.
Peering through one of the observation windows, he saw Mongrove and Werther de Goethe approaching and he stood up to hail them. But both pointedly ignored him and so increased his sense of desolation where normally he would have been amused by the perfection with which they played their roles. He slumped, once more, into his cushions, now thoroughly reluctant to return home but with no idea of any alternative. Mistress Christia, always a willing companion, had gone off with the Duke of Queens and My Lady Charlotina. Even Li Pao was nowhere to be seen. He yawned and closed his eyes.
"Sleeping, my dear?"
It was Lord Jagged. He stood peering up over the footplate. "Is this the machine you were telling me about. The —?"
"The locomotive. Oh, Lord Jagged, I am so pleased to see you. I thought you left hours ago."
"I was diverted." The pale head emerged a fraction further from the yellow collar. "And then deserted." Lord Jagged smiled his familiar, wistful smile. "May I join you?"
"Of course."
Lord Jagged floated up, a cloud of lemon-coloured down, and sat beside Jherek.
"So the Duke's display was not a deliberate disaster?" said Lord Jagged. "But we all pretended that it was."
Jherek Carnelian drew off his opera hat and flung it from the locomotive. It became a puff of orange smoke which dissipated in the air. He loosened the cord of his cloak. "Yes," he said, "even I managed to compliment him. He was so miserable. But what could have possessed him to think that anyone would be interested in an ordinary little alien? And a mad, prophesying one, at that."
"You don't think he told the truth, then? The alien?"
"Oh, yes. I'm sure he spoke the truth. Why shouldn't he? But what is particularly interesting about the truth? Very little, when it comes down to it, as we all know. Look at Li Pao. He is forever telling the truth, too. And what is a truth, anyway? There are so many different kinds."
"And his message did not disturb you?"
"His message? No. The lifetime of the universe is finite. That was his message."
"And we are near the end of that lifetime. He said that." Lord Jagged made a motion with his hand and disrobed himself, stretching his thin, pale body upon the couch.
"Why are you making so much of this, white Lord Jagged?"
Lord Jagged laughed. "I am not. I am not. Just conversation. And a touch or two of curiosity. Your mind is so much fresher than mine — than almost anyone's in the world. That is why I ask questions. If it bores you I'll stop."
"No. The poor little space-traveller was a bore, wasn't he? Wasn't he, Lord Jagged? Or did you find something interesting about him?"
"Not really. People used to fear death once, you know, and I suppose whatever-his-name-was still fears it. I believe that people used to wish to communicate their fear. To spread it somehow comforted them. I suppose that is his impulse. Well, he shall find plenty to comfort him in My Lady Charlotina's menagerie."
"Speaking of menageries, did you see a girl time-traveller dressed in rather heavy grey garments, wearing a straw-coloured hat with a wide brim, at the party?"
"I believe I did."
"Did you notice where she went? Did you see her leave?"
"I think Mongrove took a fancy to her and sent her in his aircar to his menagerie before he left with Werther de Goethe."
"Mongrove! How unfortunate."
"You wanted her yourself?"
"Yes."
"But you've no menagerie."
"I have a 19th century collection. She would have suited it perfectly."
"She's 19th century, then?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps Mongrove will give her to you."
"Mongrove had best not know I want her at all. He would disseminate her or send her back to her own time or give her away rather than think he was contributing to my pleasure. You must know that, Lord Jagged."
"You couldn't trade something for her? What about the item Mongrove wanted from you so much? The elderly writer — from the same period, wasn't he?"
"Yes, before I became interested in it. I remember, Ambrose Bierce."
"The same!"
"He went up with the others. In the fire. I couldn't be bothered to reconstitute him and now, of course, it's too late."
"You were never prudent, tender Jherek."
Jherek's brows knitted. "I must have her, Lord Jagged, I think, in fact, that I shall fall in love with her. Yes! in love ."
"Oho!" Lord Jagged threw back his head, arching his exquisite neck. "Love! Love! How splendid, Jherek."
"I will plunge into it. I will encourage the passion until I am as involved in it as Mongrove is involved in his misery."
"An excellent affectation. It will power your mind. It will make you so ingenious. You will succeed. You will get her away from Mongrove, though it will turn the world upside down! You will entertain us all. You will thrill us. You will hold our attention for months! For years! We shall speculate upon your success or your failure. We shall wonder how far you have really involved yourself in this game. We shall watch to see how your grey time-traveller responds. Will she return your love? Will she spurn it? Will she decide to love Mongrove, the more to complicate your schemes?" Lord Jagged reached over and kissed Jherek heartily upon the lips. "Yes! It must be played out in every small detail. Your friends will help. They will give you tips. They'll consult the literatures of the ages to glean the best of the love stories and you will act them out. Gorgon and Queen Elizabeth. Romeo and Julius Caesar. Windermere and Lady Oscar. Hitler and Mussolini. Fred and Louella. Ojiba and Obija. Sero and Fidsekalak. The list goes on — and on! And on, dear Jherek!"
Fired by his friend's enthusiasm Jherek stood up and yelled with laughter.
"I shall be a lover! "
"A lover!"
"Nothing shall thwart me!"
"Nothing!"
"I shall win my love and live with her in ardent happiness until the very universe grows old and cold."
"Or whatever our space-travelling friend said would happen. Now that factor should give it an edge." Lord Jagged fingered his linen-coloured nose. "Oh, you'll be doomed, desired, deceived, debunked and delivered!" (Lord Jagged seemed to be fond, tonight, of his d's.) "Demonic, demonstrative, determined, destructive." He was dangerously close to overdoing it. "You'll be destiny's fool, my dear! Your story shall ring down the ages (whatever's left, at any rate). Jherek Carnelian — the most laudable, the most laborious, the most literal, the very last of lovers!" And with a yell he flung his arms around his friend while Jherek Carnelian seized the whistle string and tugged wildly making the locomotive shriek and moan and thrust itself throbbing into the warm, black night.
"Love!" shouted Jherek.
"Love," whispered Lord Jagged, kissing him once more.
"Oh, Jagged!" Jherek gave himself up to his lascivious lord's embrace.
"She must have a name," said Jagged, rolling over in the eight-poster bed and taking a sip of beer from the bronze barrel he held between the forefinger and thumb of his left hand. "We must find it out." He got up and crossed the corrugated iron floor to brush aside the sheets from the window and peer through. "Is that a sunset or a sunrise? It looks like a sunset."
"I'm sorry." Jherek opened his eyes and turned one of his rings a fraction of a degree to the right.
"Much better," said Lord Jagged of Canaria, admiring the golden dawn. "And what are the birds?" He pointed through the window at the black silhouettes circling high above in the sky.
"Parrots," said Jherek. "They're supposed to eat the branded buffalo."
"Supposed to?"
"They won't. And they should be perfect reproductions. I made a mistake somewhere. I really ought to put them back in my gene-bank and start again."
"What if we paid Mongrove a visit this morning?" Lord Jagged suggested, returning to his original subject.
"He wouldn't receive me."
"He would receive me , however. And you will be my companion. I will feign an interest in his menagerie and that way you shall be able to meet again the object of your desire."
"I'm not sure it's such a good idea now, darling Jagged," said Jherek. "I was carried away last night."
"Indeed, my love, you were. And why not? How often does it happen? No, Jherek Carnelian, you shall not falter. It will delight so many."
Jherek laughed. "Lord Jagged, I think there is some other motive involved here — a motive of your own. Would you not rather take my place?"
"I? I have no interest at all in the period."
"Aren't you interested in falling in love?"
"I am interested in your falling in love. You should. It will complete you, Jherek. You were born , do you see? The rest of us came into the world as adults (apart from poor Werther, but that was a somewhat different story) or created ourselves or were created by our friends. But you, Jherek, were born — a baby. And so you must also fall in love. Oh, yes. There is no question of it. In any other one of us it would be silly."
"I think you have already pointed out that it would be ludicrous in me, too," said Jherek mildly.
"Love was always ludicrous , Jherek. That's another thing again."
"Very well," smiled Jherek. "To please you, my lean lord, I will do my best."
"To please us all. Including yourself, Jherek. Especially yourself, Jherek."
"I must admit that I might consider…"
Lord Jagged began, suddenly, to sing.
The notes trilled and warbled from his throat. A most delightful rush of song and such a complicated melody that Jherek could hardly follow it.
Jherek glanced thoughtfully and with some irony at his friend.
It had seemed for a moment that Lord Jagged had deliberately cut Jherek short.
But why?
He had only been about to point out that the Lord of Canaria had all the qualities of affection, wit and imagination that might be desired in a lover and that Jherek would willingly fall in love with him rather than some time-traveller whom he did not know at all.
And, Jherek suspected, Lord Jagged had known that he was about to say this. Would the declaration have been in doubtful taste, perhaps? The point about falling in love with the grey time-traveller was that she would find nothing strange in it. In her age everyone had fallen in love (or, at very least, had been able to deceive themselves that they had, which was much the same thing). Yes, Lord Jagged had acted with great generosity and stopped him from embarrassing himself. It would have been vulgar to have declared his love for Lord Jagged but it was witty to fall in love with the grey time-traveller.
Not that there was anything wrong with intentional vulgarity. Or even unintentional vulgarity, thought Jherek, in the case, for instance, of the Duke of Queens.
He recalled the party with horror. "The poor Duke of Queens!"
"His party was absolutely perfect. Not a thing went right." Lord Jagged left the window and wandered over the bumpy floor. "May I use this for a suit?" He gestured towards a stuffed mammoth which filled one corner of the room.
"Of course," said Jherek. "I was never quite sure if it was in period, anyway. How clever of you to pick that." He watched with interest as Lord Jagged broke the mammoth down into its component atoms and then, from the hovering cloud of particles, concocted for himself a loose, lilac-coloured robe with the kind of high, stiff collar he often favoured, and huge puffed sleeves from which peeped the tips of his fingers, and silver slippers with long, pointed toes, and a circlet to contain his long platinum hair; a circlet in the form of a rippling, living 54th century Uranian lizard.
"How haughty you look!" said Jherek. "A prince of fifty planets!"
Lord Jagged bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment. "We are the sum of all previous ages, are we not? And as a result there is nothing that marks this age of ours, save that one thing. We are the sum."
"I had never thought of it." Jherek swung his long legs from the bed and stood up.
"Nor I, until this moment. But it is true. I can think of nothing else typical. Our technologies, our tricks, our conceits — they all imitate the past. We benefit from everything our ancestors worked to achieve. But we invent nothing of our own — we merely ring a few changes on what already exists."
"There is nothing left to invent, my lilac lord. The long history of mankind, if it has a purpose at all, has found complete fulfilment in us. We can indulge any fancy. We can choose to be whatever we wish and do whatever we wish. What else is there? We are happy. Even Mongrove is happy in his misery — it is his choice. No one would try to alter it. I am rather at a loss, therefore, to follow where your argument is leading." Jherek sipped from his own beer barrel.
"There was no argument, my jaunty Jherek. It was an observation I made. That was all."
"And accurate." Jherek was at a loss to add anything more.
"Accurate."
Lord Jagged stood back to admire Jherek, still unclothed for the day.
"And what will you wear?"
"I have been considering that very question," Jherek put a finger to his chin. "It must be in keeping with all this — especially since I am to pay court to a lady of the 19th century. But it cannot be the same as yesterday."
"No," agreed Lord Jagged.
And then Jherek had it. He was delighted at his own brilliance. "I know! I shall wear exactly the same costume as she wore last night! It will be a compliment she cannot fail to notice."
"Jherek," crooned Lord Jagged, hugging him, "you are the best of us!"
Either, he thought, the time-traveller had been returned to the menagerie of whomever it was that owned her, or else she had gone somewhere of her own volition. He hoped that she did not have a time-travelling machine capable of carrying her back to her own age. If she had, then it was likely she was gone forever. He seemed to remember that there was some evidence to suggest that the people of the late 19th century had possessed a crude form of time-travel.
"Ah, well," he sighed to himself, "if she has gone, she has gone."
His mother, the Iron Orchid, had left with the Lady Voiceless and Ulianov of the Palms, doubtless to revive memories of times before he had been born. Being naturally gregarious, he felt deserted. There was hardly anyone left whom he knew well or would care to take back with him to his ranch. He wanted the time-traveller. His heart was set on her. She was charming. He fingered his cheek and smiled.
Peering through one of the observation windows, he saw Mongrove and Werther de Goethe approaching and he stood up to hail them. But both pointedly ignored him and so increased his sense of desolation where normally he would have been amused by the perfection with which they played their roles. He slumped, once more, into his cushions, now thoroughly reluctant to return home but with no idea of any alternative. Mistress Christia, always a willing companion, had gone off with the Duke of Queens and My Lady Charlotina. Even Li Pao was nowhere to be seen. He yawned and closed his eyes.
"Sleeping, my dear?"
It was Lord Jagged. He stood peering up over the footplate. "Is this the machine you were telling me about. The —?"
"The locomotive. Oh, Lord Jagged, I am so pleased to see you. I thought you left hours ago."
"I was diverted." The pale head emerged a fraction further from the yellow collar. "And then deserted." Lord Jagged smiled his familiar, wistful smile. "May I join you?"
"Of course."
Lord Jagged floated up, a cloud of lemon-coloured down, and sat beside Jherek.
"So the Duke's display was not a deliberate disaster?" said Lord Jagged. "But we all pretended that it was."
Jherek Carnelian drew off his opera hat and flung it from the locomotive. It became a puff of orange smoke which dissipated in the air. He loosened the cord of his cloak. "Yes," he said, "even I managed to compliment him. He was so miserable. But what could have possessed him to think that anyone would be interested in an ordinary little alien? And a mad, prophesying one, at that."
"You don't think he told the truth, then? The alien?"
"Oh, yes. I'm sure he spoke the truth. Why shouldn't he? But what is particularly interesting about the truth? Very little, when it comes down to it, as we all know. Look at Li Pao. He is forever telling the truth, too. And what is a truth, anyway? There are so many different kinds."
"And his message did not disturb you?"
"His message? No. The lifetime of the universe is finite. That was his message."
"And we are near the end of that lifetime. He said that." Lord Jagged made a motion with his hand and disrobed himself, stretching his thin, pale body upon the couch.
"Why are you making so much of this, white Lord Jagged?"
Lord Jagged laughed. "I am not. I am not. Just conversation. And a touch or two of curiosity. Your mind is so much fresher than mine — than almost anyone's in the world. That is why I ask questions. If it bores you I'll stop."
"No. The poor little space-traveller was a bore, wasn't he? Wasn't he, Lord Jagged? Or did you find something interesting about him?"
"Not really. People used to fear death once, you know, and I suppose whatever-his-name-was still fears it. I believe that people used to wish to communicate their fear. To spread it somehow comforted them. I suppose that is his impulse. Well, he shall find plenty to comfort him in My Lady Charlotina's menagerie."
"Speaking of menageries, did you see a girl time-traveller dressed in rather heavy grey garments, wearing a straw-coloured hat with a wide brim, at the party?"
"I believe I did."
"Did you notice where she went? Did you see her leave?"
"I think Mongrove took a fancy to her and sent her in his aircar to his menagerie before he left with Werther de Goethe."
"Mongrove! How unfortunate."
"You wanted her yourself?"
"Yes."
"But you've no menagerie."
"I have a 19th century collection. She would have suited it perfectly."
"She's 19th century, then?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps Mongrove will give her to you."
"Mongrove had best not know I want her at all. He would disseminate her or send her back to her own time or give her away rather than think he was contributing to my pleasure. You must know that, Lord Jagged."
"You couldn't trade something for her? What about the item Mongrove wanted from you so much? The elderly writer — from the same period, wasn't he?"
"Yes, before I became interested in it. I remember, Ambrose Bierce."
"The same!"
"He went up with the others. In the fire. I couldn't be bothered to reconstitute him and now, of course, it's too late."
"You were never prudent, tender Jherek."
Jherek's brows knitted. "I must have her, Lord Jagged, I think, in fact, that I shall fall in love with her. Yes! in love ."
"Oho!" Lord Jagged threw back his head, arching his exquisite neck. "Love! Love! How splendid, Jherek."
"I will plunge into it. I will encourage the passion until I am as involved in it as Mongrove is involved in his misery."
"An excellent affectation. It will power your mind. It will make you so ingenious. You will succeed. You will get her away from Mongrove, though it will turn the world upside down! You will entertain us all. You will thrill us. You will hold our attention for months! For years! We shall speculate upon your success or your failure. We shall wonder how far you have really involved yourself in this game. We shall watch to see how your grey time-traveller responds. Will she return your love? Will she spurn it? Will she decide to love Mongrove, the more to complicate your schemes?" Lord Jagged reached over and kissed Jherek heartily upon the lips. "Yes! It must be played out in every small detail. Your friends will help. They will give you tips. They'll consult the literatures of the ages to glean the best of the love stories and you will act them out. Gorgon and Queen Elizabeth. Romeo and Julius Caesar. Windermere and Lady Oscar. Hitler and Mussolini. Fred and Louella. Ojiba and Obija. Sero and Fidsekalak. The list goes on — and on! And on, dear Jherek!"
Fired by his friend's enthusiasm Jherek stood up and yelled with laughter.
"I shall be a lover! "
"A lover!"
"Nothing shall thwart me!"
"Nothing!"
"I shall win my love and live with her in ardent happiness until the very universe grows old and cold."
"Or whatever our space-travelling friend said would happen. Now that factor should give it an edge." Lord Jagged fingered his linen-coloured nose. "Oh, you'll be doomed, desired, deceived, debunked and delivered!" (Lord Jagged seemed to be fond, tonight, of his d's.) "Demonic, demonstrative, determined, destructive." He was dangerously close to overdoing it. "You'll be destiny's fool, my dear! Your story shall ring down the ages (whatever's left, at any rate). Jherek Carnelian — the most laudable, the most laborious, the most literal, the very last of lovers!" And with a yell he flung his arms around his friend while Jherek Carnelian seized the whistle string and tugged wildly making the locomotive shriek and moan and thrust itself throbbing into the warm, black night.
"Love!" shouted Jherek.
"Love," whispered Lord Jagged, kissing him once more.
"Oh, Jagged!" Jherek gave himself up to his lascivious lord's embrace.
"She must have a name," said Jagged, rolling over in the eight-poster bed and taking a sip of beer from the bronze barrel he held between the forefinger and thumb of his left hand. "We must find it out." He got up and crossed the corrugated iron floor to brush aside the sheets from the window and peer through. "Is that a sunset or a sunrise? It looks like a sunset."
"I'm sorry." Jherek opened his eyes and turned one of his rings a fraction of a degree to the right.
"Much better," said Lord Jagged of Canaria, admiring the golden dawn. "And what are the birds?" He pointed through the window at the black silhouettes circling high above in the sky.
"Parrots," said Jherek. "They're supposed to eat the branded buffalo."
"Supposed to?"
"They won't. And they should be perfect reproductions. I made a mistake somewhere. I really ought to put them back in my gene-bank and start again."
"What if we paid Mongrove a visit this morning?" Lord Jagged suggested, returning to his original subject.
"He wouldn't receive me."
"He would receive me , however. And you will be my companion. I will feign an interest in his menagerie and that way you shall be able to meet again the object of your desire."
"I'm not sure it's such a good idea now, darling Jagged," said Jherek. "I was carried away last night."
"Indeed, my love, you were. And why not? How often does it happen? No, Jherek Carnelian, you shall not falter. It will delight so many."
Jherek laughed. "Lord Jagged, I think there is some other motive involved here — a motive of your own. Would you not rather take my place?"
"I? I have no interest at all in the period."
"Aren't you interested in falling in love?"
"I am interested in your falling in love. You should. It will complete you, Jherek. You were born , do you see? The rest of us came into the world as adults (apart from poor Werther, but that was a somewhat different story) or created ourselves or were created by our friends. But you, Jherek, were born — a baby. And so you must also fall in love. Oh, yes. There is no question of it. In any other one of us it would be silly."
"I think you have already pointed out that it would be ludicrous in me, too," said Jherek mildly.
"Love was always ludicrous , Jherek. That's another thing again."
"Very well," smiled Jherek. "To please you, my lean lord, I will do my best."
"To please us all. Including yourself, Jherek. Especially yourself, Jherek."
"I must admit that I might consider…"
Lord Jagged began, suddenly, to sing.
The notes trilled and warbled from his throat. A most delightful rush of song and such a complicated melody that Jherek could hardly follow it.
Jherek glanced thoughtfully and with some irony at his friend.
It had seemed for a moment that Lord Jagged had deliberately cut Jherek short.
But why?
He had only been about to point out that the Lord of Canaria had all the qualities of affection, wit and imagination that might be desired in a lover and that Jherek would willingly fall in love with him rather than some time-traveller whom he did not know at all.
And, Jherek suspected, Lord Jagged had known that he was about to say this. Would the declaration have been in doubtful taste, perhaps? The point about falling in love with the grey time-traveller was that she would find nothing strange in it. In her age everyone had fallen in love (or, at very least, had been able to deceive themselves that they had, which was much the same thing). Yes, Lord Jagged had acted with great generosity and stopped him from embarrassing himself. It would have been vulgar to have declared his love for Lord Jagged but it was witty to fall in love with the grey time-traveller.
Not that there was anything wrong with intentional vulgarity. Or even unintentional vulgarity, thought Jherek, in the case, for instance, of the Duke of Queens.
He recalled the party with horror. "The poor Duke of Queens!"
"His party was absolutely perfect. Not a thing went right." Lord Jagged left the window and wandered over the bumpy floor. "May I use this for a suit?" He gestured towards a stuffed mammoth which filled one corner of the room.
"Of course," said Jherek. "I was never quite sure if it was in period, anyway. How clever of you to pick that." He watched with interest as Lord Jagged broke the mammoth down into its component atoms and then, from the hovering cloud of particles, concocted for himself a loose, lilac-coloured robe with the kind of high, stiff collar he often favoured, and huge puffed sleeves from which peeped the tips of his fingers, and silver slippers with long, pointed toes, and a circlet to contain his long platinum hair; a circlet in the form of a rippling, living 54th century Uranian lizard.
"How haughty you look!" said Jherek. "A prince of fifty planets!"
Lord Jagged bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment. "We are the sum of all previous ages, are we not? And as a result there is nothing that marks this age of ours, save that one thing. We are the sum."
"I had never thought of it." Jherek swung his long legs from the bed and stood up.
"Nor I, until this moment. But it is true. I can think of nothing else typical. Our technologies, our tricks, our conceits — they all imitate the past. We benefit from everything our ancestors worked to achieve. But we invent nothing of our own — we merely ring a few changes on what already exists."
"There is nothing left to invent, my lilac lord. The long history of mankind, if it has a purpose at all, has found complete fulfilment in us. We can indulge any fancy. We can choose to be whatever we wish and do whatever we wish. What else is there? We are happy. Even Mongrove is happy in his misery — it is his choice. No one would try to alter it. I am rather at a loss, therefore, to follow where your argument is leading." Jherek sipped from his own beer barrel.
"There was no argument, my jaunty Jherek. It was an observation I made. That was all."
"And accurate." Jherek was at a loss to add anything more.
"Accurate."
Lord Jagged stood back to admire Jherek, still unclothed for the day.
"And what will you wear?"
"I have been considering that very question," Jherek put a finger to his chin. "It must be in keeping with all this — especially since I am to pay court to a lady of the 19th century. But it cannot be the same as yesterday."
"No," agreed Lord Jagged.
And then Jherek had it. He was delighted at his own brilliance. "I know! I shall wear exactly the same costume as she wore last night! It will be a compliment she cannot fail to notice."
"Jherek," crooned Lord Jagged, hugging him, "you are the best of us!"
5. A Menagerie of Time and Space
"The very best of us," yawned Lord Jagged of Canaria, lying back upon the couch of plush and ermine as Jherek, clad in his new costume, pulled the whistle of the locomotive which took off from the corral and left the West behind, heading for gloomy Mongrove's domain.
The locomotive steered a course for the tropics, passing through a dozen different skies. Some of the skies were still being completed, while others were being dismantled as their creators wearied of them.
They puffed over the old cities which nobody used any more, but which were not destroyed because the sources of many forms of energy were still stored there — the energy in particular, which powered the rings everyone wore. Once whole star systems had been converted to store the energy banks of Earth, during the manic Engineering Millennium, when everyone, it appeared, had devoted themselves to that single purpose.
They travelled through several daytimes and a few nighttimes on their way to Mongrove's. The giant, save for his brief Hell-making fad, had always lived in the same place, where a sub-continent called Indi had once been. It was well over an hour before they sighted the grey clouds which perpetually hung over Mongrove's domain, pouring down either snow or sleet or hail or rain, depending on the giant's mood. The sun never shone through those clouds. Mongrove hated sunshine.
Lord Jagged pretended to shiver, though his garments had naturally adjusted to the change in temperature. "There are Mongrove's miserable cliffs. I can see them now." He pointed through the observation window.
Jherek looked and saw them. Mile high crags met the grey clouds. They were black, gleaming and melancholy crags, without symmetry, without a single patch of relieving colour, for even the rain which fell on them seemed to turn black as it struck them and ran in weeping black rivers down their rocky flanks. And Jherek shivered, too. It had been many years since he had visited Mongrove and he had forgotten with what uncompromising misery the giant had designed his home.
At a murmured command from Jherek, the locomotive rolled up the sky to get above the clouds. The rain and the cold would not affect the aircar, but Jherek found the mere sight too glum for his taste. But soon they had passed over the cliffs and Jherek could tell from the way in which the cloud bank seemed to dip in the middle that they were over Mongrove's valley. Now they would have to pass through the clouds. There was no choice.
The locomotive began to descend, passing through layer after grey layer of the thick, swirling mist until it emerged, finally, over Mongrove's valley. Jherek and Lord Jagged looked down upon a blighted landscape of festering marsh and leafless, stunted trees, of bleak boulders, of withered shrubs and dank moss. In the very centre of all this desolation squatted the vast, cheerless complex of buildings and enclosures which was surrounded by a great, glabrous wall and dominated by Mongrove's dark, obsidian castle. From the castle's ragged towers shone a few dim, yellowish lights.
Almost immediately a force dome appeared over the castle and its environs. It turned the falling rain to steam. Then Mongrove's voice, amplified fiftyfold, boomed from the now partially hidden castle.
"What enemy approaches to plague and threaten despondent Mongrove?"
Although Mongrove's detectors would already have identified them, Jagged answered with good humour.
"It is I, dear Mongrove. Your good friend Lord Jagged of Canaria."
"And another."
"Yes, another. Jherek Carnelian is well known to you surely?"
"Well known and well hated. He is not welcome here, Lord Jagged."
"And I? Am I not welcome?"
"None are welcome at Castle Mongrove, but you may enter, if you wish."
"And my friend Jherek?"
"If you insist upon bringing him with you — and if I have his word, Lord Jagged, that he is not here to play one of his cruel jests upon me."
"You have my word, Mongrove," said Jherek.
"Then," said Mongrove reluctantly, "enter."
The force dome vanished; the rain fell unhindered upon the basalt and the obsidian. For the sake of politeness, Jherek did not take his locomotive over the wall. Instead he brought the aircar to the swampy ground and waited until the massive iron gates groaned open just wide enough to admit the locomotive, which shuffled merrily through, giving out multicoloured smoke from its funnel and its bogies — a most incongruous sight and one which was bound to displease Mongrove. Yet Jherek could not resist it. Mongrove desired so much to be baited, he felt, and he desired so much to bait him that he let few opportunities go. Lord Jagged placed a hand on Jherek's shoulder.
"It would improve matters and make our task the easier if we were to forgo the smoke, jolly Jherek."
"Very well!" Jherek laughed and ordered the smoke to stop. "Perhaps I should have designed a more funereal carriage altogether. For the occasion. One of those black ships of the Four Year Empire would do. Oh, death meant so much to them in those days. Are we missing something, I wonder?"
"I have wondered that. Still, we have all of us died so many times and been recreated so many times that the thrill is gone. For them — especially the heavy folk of the Four Year Empire — it was an experience they could have only three or four times at most before their systems gave out. Strange."
They were nearing the main entrance of the castle itself, passing through narrow streets full of lowering, dark walls and iron fences behind which dim shapes could be seen moving occasionally. The large part of all this was Mongrove's menagerie.
"He has added a great deal to it since I was last here," said Jherek. "I hadn't realised."
"You had best follow my lead," said Lord Jagged. "I will gauge Mongrove's mood and ask, casually, if we can see the menagerie. Perhaps after lunch, if he offers us lunch."
"I remember the last lunch I had here," Jherek said with a shudder. "Raw Turyian dungwhale prepared in the style of the Zhadash primitives who hunted it, I gather, on Ganesha in the 89th century."
"You do remember it well."
"I could never forget it. I have never questioned Mongrove's artistry , Lord Jagged. Like me, he is a stickler for detail."
"And that is why this rivalry exists between you, I shouldn't wonder. You are of similar temperaments, really."
Jherek laughed. "Perhaps. Though I think I prefer the way in which I express mine!"
They went under a portcullis and entered a cobbled courtyard. The locomotive stopped.
Rain fell on the cobbles. Somewhere a sad bell tolled and tolled and tolled.
And there was Mongrove. He was dressed in dark green robes, his great chin sunk upon his huge chest, his brooding eyes regarding them from a head which seemed itself carved from rock. His monstrous, ten foot frame did not move as they dismounted from the aircar and, from politeness, allowed themselves to be soaked by the chill rain.
"Good morning, Mongrove." Lord Jagged of Canaria made one of his famous sweeping bows and then tip-toed forward to reach up and grasp the giant's bulky hands which were folded on his stomach.
"Jagged," said Mongrove. "I am feeling suspicious. Why are you and that wretch Jherek Carnelian here? What plot's hatching? What devious brew are you boiling? What new ruse are you rascals ripening to make a rift in my peace of mind?"
"Oh, come, Mongrove — peace of mind! Isn't that the last thing you desire?" Jherek could not resist the jibe. He stood before his old rival in his new grey gown with his straw boater upon his chestnut curls and his hands on his hips and he grinned up at the giant. "It is despair you seek — exquisite despair. It is agony of soul such as the ancients knew. You wish to discover the secret of what they called "the human condition" and recreate it in all its terror and its pain. And yet you have never quite discovered that secret, have you, Mongrove? Is that why you keep this vast menagerie with creatures culled from all the ages, all the places of the universe? Do you hope that, in their misery, they will show you the way from despair to utter despair, from melancholy to the deepest melancholy, from gloom to unspeakable gloom?"
"Be silent!" groaned Mongrove. "You did come here to plague me. You cannot stay! You cannot stay!" He covered his monstrous ears with his monstrous hands and closed his great, sad eyes.
"I apologise for Jherek, Mongrove," said Lord Jagged softly. "He only hopes to please you."
Mongrove's reply was in the form of a vast, shuddering moan. He began to turn to go back into his castle.
"Please, Mongrove," said Jherek. "I do apologise. I really do. I wish there was some release for you from this terror, this gloom, this unbearable depression."
Mongrove turned back again, brightening just a trifle. "You understand?"
"Of course. Though I have felt only a fraction of what you must feel — I understand." Jherek placed his hand on his bosom. "The aching sorrow of it all."
"Yes," whispered Mongrove. A tear fell from his huge right eye. "That is very true, Jherek." A tear fell from his left eye. "Nobody understands, as a rule. I am a joke. A laughing-stock. They know that in this great frame is a tiny, frightened, pathetic creature incapable of any generosity, without creative talent, with a capacity only to weep, to mourn, to sigh and to watch the tragedy that is human life play itself to its awful conclusion."
"Yes," said Jherek. "Yes, Mongrove."
Lord Jagged, who now stood behind Mongrove, sheltering in the doorway of the castle and leaning against the obsidian wall, gave Jherek a look of pure admiration and added to this look one of absolute approval. He nodded his pale head. He smiled. He winked his encouragement, the white lid falling over his almost colourless eye.
Jherek did admire Mongrove for the pains he took to make his role complete. When he, Jherek, became a lover, he would pursue his role with the same dedication.
"You see," said Lord Jagged. "You see, Mongrove. Jherek understands and sympathises better than anyone. In the past he has played the odd practical joke upon you, it is true, but that was because he was trying to cheer you up. Before he realised that nothing can hope to ease the misery in your bleak soul and so on."
"Yes," said Mongrove. "I do see, Lord Jagged." He threw a huge arm around Jherek's shoulders and almost flung Jherek to the cobbled ground, muddying his skirts. Jherek feared for his set. It was already getting wet and yet politeness forbade him to use any form of force protection. He felt his straw hat begin to sag a little. He looked down at his blouse and saw that the lace was looking a bit straggly.
"Come," Mongrove went on. "You shall lunch with me. My honoured guests. I never realised before, Jherek, how sensitive you were. And you tried to hide your sensitivity with rough humour, with coarse badinage and crude japes."
Jherek thought many of his jokes had been rather subtle, but it was not politic to say so at the moment. He nodded, instead, and smiled.
Mongrove led them at last into the castle. For all the winds whistling through the passages and howling along stairwells; for all that the only light was from guttering brands and that the walls ran with damp or were festooned with mildew; for all the rats glimpsed from time to time; for all the bloodless faces of Mongrove's living-dead retainers, the thick cobwebs, the chilly odours, the peculiar little sounds, Jherek was pleased to be inside and walked quite merrily with Mongrove as they made their way up several flights of unclad stone stairs, through a profusion of twisting corridors until at last they arrived in Mongrove's banqueting hall.
"And where is Werther," asked Lord Jagged, "de Goethe, I mean? I was sure he left with you last night. At the Duke of Queens?"
"The Duke of Queens." Mongrove's massive brow frowned. "Aye. Aye. The Duke of Queens. Yes, Werther was here for a while. But he left. Some new nightmare or other he promised to show me when he'd completed it."
"Nightmare?"
"A play. Something. I'm not sure. He said I would like it."
"Excellent."
"Ah," sighed Mongrove. "That space-traveller. How I would love to converse longer with him. Did you hear him? Doom, he said. We are doomed! "
"Doom, doom," echoed Lord Jagged, signing for Jherek to join in.
"Doom," said Jherek a little uncertainly. "Doom, doom."
"Yes, dark damnation. Dejection. Doom. Doom. Doom." Mongrove stared into the middle distance.
Jherek thought that Mongrove seemed to have picked up Lord Jagged's predilection for words beginning with "d."
"You covet, then, the alien?" he said.
"Covet him?"
"You want him in your menagerie?" explained Lord Jagged. "That's the question."
"Of course I would like him here. He is very morbid , isn't he? He would make an excellent companion."
"Oh, he would!" said Lord Jagged, staring significantly at Jherek as the three men seated themselves at Mongrove's chipped and stained dining table. But Jherek couldn't quite work out why Jagged stared at him significantly. "He would! What a shame he is in My Lady Charlotina's collection."
"Is that where he is? I wondered."
"Lady Charlotina wouldn't give you the little alien, I suppose," said Lord Jagged. "Since his companionship would mean so much to you."
"Lady Charlotina hates me," said Mongrove simply. "Surely not!"
"Oh, yes she does. She would give me nothing. She is jealous of my collection, I suppose." Mongrove went on, with gloomy pride: "My collection is large. Possibly the largest there is."
"I have heard that it is magnificent," Jherek told him.
"Thank you, Jherek," said the giant gratefully.
Mongrove's attitude had changed completely. Evidently all he asked for was that his misery should be taken seriously. Then he could forget every past slight, every joke at his expense, that Jherek had ever made. In a few minutes they had changed, in Mongrove's eyes, from being bitter enemies to the closest of friends.
It was plain to Jherek that Lord Jagged understood Mongrove very well — as well as he knew Jherek, if not better. He was constantly astonished at the insight of the Lord of Canaria. Sometimes Lord Jagged could appear almost sinister!
"I would very much like to see your menagerie," said Lord Jagged. "Would that be possible, my miserable Mongrove?"
"Of course, of course," said Mongrove. "There is little to see, really. I expect it lacks the glamour of My Lady Charlotina's, the colour of the Duke of Queens', even the variety of your mother's, Jherek, the Iron Orchid's."
"I am sure that is not the case," said Jherek diplomatically.
"And would you like to see my menagerie also?" asked Mongrove.
"Very much," said Jherek. "Very much. I hear you have —"
"Those cracks," said Lord Jagged suddenly and deliberately interrupting his friend, "they are new, are they not, dear Mongrove?"
He gestured towards several large fissures in the far wall of the hall.
"Yes, they're comparatively recent," Mongrove agreed. "Do you like them?"
"They are prime! "
"Not excessive? You don't think they are excessive?" Mongrove asked anxiously.
"Not a bit. They are just right. The touch of a true artist."
"I'm so glad, Lord Jagged, that two men of such understanding taste have visited me. You must forgive me if earlier I seemed surly."
"Surly? No, no. Naturally cautious, yes. But not surly."
"We must eat," said Mongrove and Jherek's heart sank.
"Lunch — and then I'll show you round my menagerie."
Mongrove clapped his hands and food appeared on the table.
"Splendid!" said Lord Jagged, surveying the discoloured meats and the watery vegetables, the withered salads and lumpy dressings. "And what are these delicacies?"
"It is a banquet of the time of the Kalean Plague Century," said Mongrove proudly. "You've heard of the plague? It swept the Solar System in I think, the 1000th century. It infected everyone and everything."
"Wonderful," said Lord Jagged with what seemed to be genuine enthusiasm. Jherek, struggling to restrain an expression of nausea, was amazed at his friend's self-control.
"And what," said Lord Jagged, picking up a dish on which sat a piece of quivering, bloody flesh, "would this be?"
"Well, it's my own reproduction, of course, but I think it's authentic." Mongrove half-rose to peer at the dish, looming over the pair. "Ah, yes — that's Snort — or is it Snout? It's confusing. I've studied all I could of the period. One of my favourites. If it's Snort, they had to change their entire religious attitude in order to justify eating it. If it's Snout, I'm not sure it would be wise for you to eat it. Although, if you've never died from food-poisoning, it's an interesting experience."
The locomotive steered a course for the tropics, passing through a dozen different skies. Some of the skies were still being completed, while others were being dismantled as their creators wearied of them.
They puffed over the old cities which nobody used any more, but which were not destroyed because the sources of many forms of energy were still stored there — the energy in particular, which powered the rings everyone wore. Once whole star systems had been converted to store the energy banks of Earth, during the manic Engineering Millennium, when everyone, it appeared, had devoted themselves to that single purpose.
They travelled through several daytimes and a few nighttimes on their way to Mongrove's. The giant, save for his brief Hell-making fad, had always lived in the same place, where a sub-continent called Indi had once been. It was well over an hour before they sighted the grey clouds which perpetually hung over Mongrove's domain, pouring down either snow or sleet or hail or rain, depending on the giant's mood. The sun never shone through those clouds. Mongrove hated sunshine.
Lord Jagged pretended to shiver, though his garments had naturally adjusted to the change in temperature. "There are Mongrove's miserable cliffs. I can see them now." He pointed through the observation window.
Jherek looked and saw them. Mile high crags met the grey clouds. They were black, gleaming and melancholy crags, without symmetry, without a single patch of relieving colour, for even the rain which fell on them seemed to turn black as it struck them and ran in weeping black rivers down their rocky flanks. And Jherek shivered, too. It had been many years since he had visited Mongrove and he had forgotten with what uncompromising misery the giant had designed his home.
At a murmured command from Jherek, the locomotive rolled up the sky to get above the clouds. The rain and the cold would not affect the aircar, but Jherek found the mere sight too glum for his taste. But soon they had passed over the cliffs and Jherek could tell from the way in which the cloud bank seemed to dip in the middle that they were over Mongrove's valley. Now they would have to pass through the clouds. There was no choice.
The locomotive began to descend, passing through layer after grey layer of the thick, swirling mist until it emerged, finally, over Mongrove's valley. Jherek and Lord Jagged looked down upon a blighted landscape of festering marsh and leafless, stunted trees, of bleak boulders, of withered shrubs and dank moss. In the very centre of all this desolation squatted the vast, cheerless complex of buildings and enclosures which was surrounded by a great, glabrous wall and dominated by Mongrove's dark, obsidian castle. From the castle's ragged towers shone a few dim, yellowish lights.
Almost immediately a force dome appeared over the castle and its environs. It turned the falling rain to steam. Then Mongrove's voice, amplified fiftyfold, boomed from the now partially hidden castle.
"What enemy approaches to plague and threaten despondent Mongrove?"
Although Mongrove's detectors would already have identified them, Jagged answered with good humour.
"It is I, dear Mongrove. Your good friend Lord Jagged of Canaria."
"And another."
"Yes, another. Jherek Carnelian is well known to you surely?"
"Well known and well hated. He is not welcome here, Lord Jagged."
"And I? Am I not welcome?"
"None are welcome at Castle Mongrove, but you may enter, if you wish."
"And my friend Jherek?"
"If you insist upon bringing him with you — and if I have his word, Lord Jagged, that he is not here to play one of his cruel jests upon me."
"You have my word, Mongrove," said Jherek.
"Then," said Mongrove reluctantly, "enter."
The force dome vanished; the rain fell unhindered upon the basalt and the obsidian. For the sake of politeness, Jherek did not take his locomotive over the wall. Instead he brought the aircar to the swampy ground and waited until the massive iron gates groaned open just wide enough to admit the locomotive, which shuffled merrily through, giving out multicoloured smoke from its funnel and its bogies — a most incongruous sight and one which was bound to displease Mongrove. Yet Jherek could not resist it. Mongrove desired so much to be baited, he felt, and he desired so much to bait him that he let few opportunities go. Lord Jagged placed a hand on Jherek's shoulder.
"It would improve matters and make our task the easier if we were to forgo the smoke, jolly Jherek."
"Very well!" Jherek laughed and ordered the smoke to stop. "Perhaps I should have designed a more funereal carriage altogether. For the occasion. One of those black ships of the Four Year Empire would do. Oh, death meant so much to them in those days. Are we missing something, I wonder?"
"I have wondered that. Still, we have all of us died so many times and been recreated so many times that the thrill is gone. For them — especially the heavy folk of the Four Year Empire — it was an experience they could have only three or four times at most before their systems gave out. Strange."
They were nearing the main entrance of the castle itself, passing through narrow streets full of lowering, dark walls and iron fences behind which dim shapes could be seen moving occasionally. The large part of all this was Mongrove's menagerie.
"He has added a great deal to it since I was last here," said Jherek. "I hadn't realised."
"You had best follow my lead," said Lord Jagged. "I will gauge Mongrove's mood and ask, casually, if we can see the menagerie. Perhaps after lunch, if he offers us lunch."
"I remember the last lunch I had here," Jherek said with a shudder. "Raw Turyian dungwhale prepared in the style of the Zhadash primitives who hunted it, I gather, on Ganesha in the 89th century."
"You do remember it well."
"I could never forget it. I have never questioned Mongrove's artistry , Lord Jagged. Like me, he is a stickler for detail."
"And that is why this rivalry exists between you, I shouldn't wonder. You are of similar temperaments, really."
Jherek laughed. "Perhaps. Though I think I prefer the way in which I express mine!"
They went under a portcullis and entered a cobbled courtyard. The locomotive stopped.
Rain fell on the cobbles. Somewhere a sad bell tolled and tolled and tolled.
And there was Mongrove. He was dressed in dark green robes, his great chin sunk upon his huge chest, his brooding eyes regarding them from a head which seemed itself carved from rock. His monstrous, ten foot frame did not move as they dismounted from the aircar and, from politeness, allowed themselves to be soaked by the chill rain.
"Good morning, Mongrove." Lord Jagged of Canaria made one of his famous sweeping bows and then tip-toed forward to reach up and grasp the giant's bulky hands which were folded on his stomach.
"Jagged," said Mongrove. "I am feeling suspicious. Why are you and that wretch Jherek Carnelian here? What plot's hatching? What devious brew are you boiling? What new ruse are you rascals ripening to make a rift in my peace of mind?"
"Oh, come, Mongrove — peace of mind! Isn't that the last thing you desire?" Jherek could not resist the jibe. He stood before his old rival in his new grey gown with his straw boater upon his chestnut curls and his hands on his hips and he grinned up at the giant. "It is despair you seek — exquisite despair. It is agony of soul such as the ancients knew. You wish to discover the secret of what they called "the human condition" and recreate it in all its terror and its pain. And yet you have never quite discovered that secret, have you, Mongrove? Is that why you keep this vast menagerie with creatures culled from all the ages, all the places of the universe? Do you hope that, in their misery, they will show you the way from despair to utter despair, from melancholy to the deepest melancholy, from gloom to unspeakable gloom?"
"Be silent!" groaned Mongrove. "You did come here to plague me. You cannot stay! You cannot stay!" He covered his monstrous ears with his monstrous hands and closed his great, sad eyes.
"I apologise for Jherek, Mongrove," said Lord Jagged softly. "He only hopes to please you."
Mongrove's reply was in the form of a vast, shuddering moan. He began to turn to go back into his castle.
"Please, Mongrove," said Jherek. "I do apologise. I really do. I wish there was some release for you from this terror, this gloom, this unbearable depression."
Mongrove turned back again, brightening just a trifle. "You understand?"
"Of course. Though I have felt only a fraction of what you must feel — I understand." Jherek placed his hand on his bosom. "The aching sorrow of it all."
"Yes," whispered Mongrove. A tear fell from his huge right eye. "That is very true, Jherek." A tear fell from his left eye. "Nobody understands, as a rule. I am a joke. A laughing-stock. They know that in this great frame is a tiny, frightened, pathetic creature incapable of any generosity, without creative talent, with a capacity only to weep, to mourn, to sigh and to watch the tragedy that is human life play itself to its awful conclusion."
"Yes," said Jherek. "Yes, Mongrove."
Lord Jagged, who now stood behind Mongrove, sheltering in the doorway of the castle and leaning against the obsidian wall, gave Jherek a look of pure admiration and added to this look one of absolute approval. He nodded his pale head. He smiled. He winked his encouragement, the white lid falling over his almost colourless eye.
Jherek did admire Mongrove for the pains he took to make his role complete. When he, Jherek, became a lover, he would pursue his role with the same dedication.
"You see," said Lord Jagged. "You see, Mongrove. Jherek understands and sympathises better than anyone. In the past he has played the odd practical joke upon you, it is true, but that was because he was trying to cheer you up. Before he realised that nothing can hope to ease the misery in your bleak soul and so on."
"Yes," said Mongrove. "I do see, Lord Jagged." He threw a huge arm around Jherek's shoulders and almost flung Jherek to the cobbled ground, muddying his skirts. Jherek feared for his set. It was already getting wet and yet politeness forbade him to use any form of force protection. He felt his straw hat begin to sag a little. He looked down at his blouse and saw that the lace was looking a bit straggly.
"Come," Mongrove went on. "You shall lunch with me. My honoured guests. I never realised before, Jherek, how sensitive you were. And you tried to hide your sensitivity with rough humour, with coarse badinage and crude japes."
Jherek thought many of his jokes had been rather subtle, but it was not politic to say so at the moment. He nodded, instead, and smiled.
Mongrove led them at last into the castle. For all the winds whistling through the passages and howling along stairwells; for all that the only light was from guttering brands and that the walls ran with damp or were festooned with mildew; for all the rats glimpsed from time to time; for all the bloodless faces of Mongrove's living-dead retainers, the thick cobwebs, the chilly odours, the peculiar little sounds, Jherek was pleased to be inside and walked quite merrily with Mongrove as they made their way up several flights of unclad stone stairs, through a profusion of twisting corridors until at last they arrived in Mongrove's banqueting hall.
"And where is Werther," asked Lord Jagged, "de Goethe, I mean? I was sure he left with you last night. At the Duke of Queens?"
"The Duke of Queens." Mongrove's massive brow frowned. "Aye. Aye. The Duke of Queens. Yes, Werther was here for a while. But he left. Some new nightmare or other he promised to show me when he'd completed it."
"Nightmare?"
"A play. Something. I'm not sure. He said I would like it."
"Excellent."
"Ah," sighed Mongrove. "That space-traveller. How I would love to converse longer with him. Did you hear him? Doom, he said. We are doomed! "
"Doom, doom," echoed Lord Jagged, signing for Jherek to join in.
"Doom," said Jherek a little uncertainly. "Doom, doom."
"Yes, dark damnation. Dejection. Doom. Doom. Doom." Mongrove stared into the middle distance.
Jherek thought that Mongrove seemed to have picked up Lord Jagged's predilection for words beginning with "d."
"You covet, then, the alien?" he said.
"Covet him?"
"You want him in your menagerie?" explained Lord Jagged. "That's the question."
"Of course I would like him here. He is very morbid , isn't he? He would make an excellent companion."
"Oh, he would!" said Lord Jagged, staring significantly at Jherek as the three men seated themselves at Mongrove's chipped and stained dining table. But Jherek couldn't quite work out why Jagged stared at him significantly. "He would! What a shame he is in My Lady Charlotina's collection."
"Is that where he is? I wondered."
"Lady Charlotina wouldn't give you the little alien, I suppose," said Lord Jagged. "Since his companionship would mean so much to you."
"Lady Charlotina hates me," said Mongrove simply. "Surely not!"
"Oh, yes she does. She would give me nothing. She is jealous of my collection, I suppose." Mongrove went on, with gloomy pride: "My collection is large. Possibly the largest there is."
"I have heard that it is magnificent," Jherek told him.
"Thank you, Jherek," said the giant gratefully.
Mongrove's attitude had changed completely. Evidently all he asked for was that his misery should be taken seriously. Then he could forget every past slight, every joke at his expense, that Jherek had ever made. In a few minutes they had changed, in Mongrove's eyes, from being bitter enemies to the closest of friends.
It was plain to Jherek that Lord Jagged understood Mongrove very well — as well as he knew Jherek, if not better. He was constantly astonished at the insight of the Lord of Canaria. Sometimes Lord Jagged could appear almost sinister!
"I would very much like to see your menagerie," said Lord Jagged. "Would that be possible, my miserable Mongrove?"
"Of course, of course," said Mongrove. "There is little to see, really. I expect it lacks the glamour of My Lady Charlotina's, the colour of the Duke of Queens', even the variety of your mother's, Jherek, the Iron Orchid's."
"I am sure that is not the case," said Jherek diplomatically.
"And would you like to see my menagerie also?" asked Mongrove.
"Very much," said Jherek. "Very much. I hear you have —"
"Those cracks," said Lord Jagged suddenly and deliberately interrupting his friend, "they are new, are they not, dear Mongrove?"
He gestured towards several large fissures in the far wall of the hall.
"Yes, they're comparatively recent," Mongrove agreed. "Do you like them?"
"They are prime! "
"Not excessive? You don't think they are excessive?" Mongrove asked anxiously.
"Not a bit. They are just right. The touch of a true artist."
"I'm so glad, Lord Jagged, that two men of such understanding taste have visited me. You must forgive me if earlier I seemed surly."
"Surly? No, no. Naturally cautious, yes. But not surly."
"We must eat," said Mongrove and Jherek's heart sank.
"Lunch — and then I'll show you round my menagerie."
Mongrove clapped his hands and food appeared on the table.
"Splendid!" said Lord Jagged, surveying the discoloured meats and the watery vegetables, the withered salads and lumpy dressings. "And what are these delicacies?"
"It is a banquet of the time of the Kalean Plague Century," said Mongrove proudly. "You've heard of the plague? It swept the Solar System in I think, the 1000th century. It infected everyone and everything."
"Wonderful," said Lord Jagged with what seemed to be genuine enthusiasm. Jherek, struggling to restrain an expression of nausea, was amazed at his friend's self-control.
"And what," said Lord Jagged, picking up a dish on which sat a piece of quivering, bloody flesh, "would this be?"
"Well, it's my own reproduction, of course, but I think it's authentic." Mongrove half-rose to peer at the dish, looming over the pair. "Ah, yes — that's Snort — or is it Snout? It's confusing. I've studied all I could of the period. One of my favourites. If it's Snort, they had to change their entire religious attitude in order to justify eating it. If it's Snout, I'm not sure it would be wise for you to eat it. Although, if you've never died from food-poisoning, it's an interesting experience."