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"Back…?" grunted Abu Thaleb.
"Oh, the journey has demented him," suggested Mavis Ming.
Abu Thaleb cleared his throat. "I believe you have the advantage, sir…"
"We missed the name," explained Doctor Volospion, his voice a fraction animated.
A sweet smile appeared upon the creature's ruby lips. "But you must recognize me!"
"Not a stirring of memory, for my part," said Doctor Volospion.
"A picture, perhaps, in the old cities. But no…" said Abu Thaleb.
"You do look like someone. Some old writer or other," said Miss Ming. "I never did literature."
He frowned. He turned his palms inwards. He looked down at his own strange body. His voice trilled on. "Yes. Yes. I suppose it is possible that you do not recognize this particular manifestation."
"Perhaps you could offer a clue." Doctor Volospion sat up in his cushions for the first time.
He was ignored. The newcomer was patting at his chest. "I have changed my physical appearance so many times that I have forgotten how I looked at first. The body has probably diminished quite a lot. The hands are certainly of a different shape. Once, as I recall, I was fat. As fat as your friend — ah, he's gone! — the one who was here when I first emerged and whose language I couldn't understand — the translator is working fine now, eh? Good, good. Oh, yes! Quite as fat as him. Fatter. And tall, I think, too. Much taller than any of you. But I leant towards economy. I had the opportunity to change. To be more comfortable in the confines of my ship. I caused my physique to be altered. Irreversibly. This form was modelled after a hero of my own whose name and achievements I forget." He drew a deep breath. "Still, the form is immaterial. I am here, as I say, to bring you Fulfilment."
"I am sure that we are all grateful," said Doctor Volospion.
"But your name, sir?" Abu Thaleb reminded him.
"Name? Names! Names! Names! I have so many!" He flung back his head and gave forth a warbling laugh. "Names!"
"Just one would help…" said Abu Thaleb without irony.
"Names?" His blue eyes fixed them. He gestured. "Names? How would you have me called? For I am the Phoenix! I am the Sun's Eagle! I am the Sun's Revenge!" He strutted to the very edge of the ramp but still did not descend. He leaned against the airlock opening. "You shall know me. You shall! For I am the claws, come to take back the heart you stole from the centre of that great furnace that is my Lord and my Slave. Eh? Do you recall me now, as I remind you of your crimes?"
"Quite mad," said Miss Ming in a low, tense voice. "I think we'd better…" But her companions were fascinated.
"Here I am!" He spread his legs and arms, to fill the airlock: X. "Magus, clown and prophet, I — Master of the World! Witness!"
Mavis Ming gasped as flames shot from his fingertips. Flames danced in his hair. Flames flickered from his nostrils. "Clownly, kingly, priestly eater and disgorger of fire! Ha!"
He laughed and gestured and balls of flame surrounded him.
"I have no ambiguities, no ambitions — I am all things! Man and woman, god and beast, child and ancient — all are compatible and all co-exist in me."
A huge sheet of fire seemed to engulf the whole ship and then vanish, leaving the newcomer standing there at the airlock, his high voice piping, his blue eyes full of pride.
"I am Mankind! I am the Multiverse! I am Life and Death and Limbo, too. I am Peace, Strife and Equilibrium. I am Damnation and Salvation. I am all that exists. And I am you!"
He threw back his little head and began to laugh while the three people stared at him in silent astonishment. For the first time he walked a little way down the ramp, balancing on the balls of his feet, extending his arms at his sides. And he began to sing:
"For I am GOD — and SATAN, too!
"PHOENIX, FAUST and FOOL!
"My MADNESS is DIVINE, and COOL my SENSE!
"I am your DOOM, your PROVIDENCE!"
"We are still, I fear, at a loss…" murmured Doctor Volospion, but he could not be heard by the singing creature whose attention was suddenly, as if for the first time, on Mavis Ming.
Miss Ming retreated a step or two. "Oo! What do you think you're looking at, chum!"
He stopped his singing. His features became eager. He bent to regard her.
"Ah! What a splendid woman!"
He moved still further down the ramp and he was sighing with pleasure.
"Oh, Madonna of Lust. Ah, my Tigress, my Temptation. Mm! Never have I seen such beauty! But this is Ultimate Femininity!"
"I've had enough," said Miss Ming severely, and she began to edge away.
He did not follow, but his eyes enchained her. His high, singsong voice became ecstatic.
"Enough? You have known nothing until now! What Beauty! Ah — I will bring great wings to beat upon your breast." His hands clenched at air. "Tearing talons your talents shall grasp! Claws of blood and sinew shall catch the silver strings of your cool harp! Ha! I'll have you, madam, never fear! Ho! I'll bring your blood to the surface of your skin! Hei! It shall pulse there — in service to my sin!"
"I'm not hanging around," she said, but she did not move.
The other two watched, forgotten by both, as the strange, mad figure pranced upon his ramp, paying court to the fat, bewildered lady in blue and yellow below.
"You shall be mine, madam. You shall be mine! This is worth all those many millennia when I was denied any form of consolation, any sort of human company. I have crossed galaxies and dimensions to find my reward! Now I know my twofold mission. To save this world and to win this woman!"
"No chance," she breathed. "Ugh!" She panted but could not flee.
He ignored her, or else had not heard her, his attention drawn back to Doctor Volospion. "You asked my name. Now do you recognize me?"
"Not specifically." Even Doctor Volospion was impressed by the intensity of the newcomer's speech. "Um — perhaps another clue?"
Bang! A stream of flame had shot from the man's hand and destroyed one of Werther's unfinished mountains.
Boom! The sky darkened and thunder shook the landscape while lightning struck all about them. Chaos swirled around the ship and out of it stared the newcomer's face shouting:
"There! Is that enough to tell you?"
Abu Thaleb demurred. "That was one of a set of mountains manufactured by someone who was hoping…"
"Manufactured?"
The thunder stopped. The lightning ceased. The sky became clear again.
"Manufactured? You make these pathetic landscapes? From choice? Pah!"
"There are other things we make…"
"And what puny conceits! Paint! I use all that is real for my canvases. Fire, water, earth and air — and human souls!"
"We can sometimes achieve quite interesting effects," continued Abu Thaleb manfully, "by…"
"Nonsense! Know you this — that I am the Controller of your Destinies! Re-born, I come among you to give you New Life! I offer the Universe!"
"We have had the universe," said Doctor Volospion. "That is partly why we are in our current predicament. It is all used up."
"Bah! Well, well, well. So I must take it upon myself again to rescue the race. Yes, well I shall not betray you — as you have betrayed me in the past. Again I give you the opportunity. Follow me!"
The Commissar of Bengal passed a hand over the gleaming corkscrew curls of his blue-black beard; he tugged at the red Star of India decorating his left ear-lobe; he fingered a feather of his turban.
"Follow you? By Allah, sir, I'm confounded! Follow you? Not a word, I fear. Not a syllable."
"That is not what I meant."
"I think," interposed Doctor Volospion, "that our visitor regards himself as a prophet — a chosen spokesman for some religion or other. The phrase he uses is more than familiar to me. Doubtless he wishes to convert us to the worship of his god."
"God? God! God! I am no servant of a Higher Power!" The visitor's neck flashed back in shock. "Unless, as can fairly be said, I serve myself — and Mankind, of course…"
Doctor Volospion casually changed the colour of his robes to dark green and silver, then to crimson and black. He sighed. He became all black.
The visitor watched this process with some contempt. "What have we here? A jester to my clown?"
Doctor Volospion glanced up. "Forgive me if I seem unmannerly. I was seeking an appropriate colour for my mood."
Abu Thaleb was dogged. "Sir, if you could introduce yourself, perhaps a little more formally…?"
The stranger regarded him through a milder eye, as if giving the commissar's remark weighty consideration.
"A name? Just one," coaxed the Lord of All Elephants. "It might jog our memories, d'you see?"
"I am your Messiah."
"There!" cried Doctor Volospion, pleased with his earlier interpretation.
The Messiah raised inflexible arms towards the skies. "I am the Prophet of the Sun! Flamebringer, call me!"
Still more animated, even amused, Doctor Volospion turned his attention away from his cuffs (now of purple lace) to remark: "The name is not familiar, sir. Where are you from?"
"Earth! I am from Earth!" The prophet gripped the lapels of his velvet coat. "You must know me. I have given you every hint."
"But when did you leave Earth?" Abu Thaleb put in, intending help. "Perhaps we are further in your future than you realize. This planet, you see, is millions, billions, of years old. Why, there is every evidence that it would have perished a long time ago — so far as supporting human life was concerned, at any rate — if we had not, with the aid of our great, old cities, maintained it. You could be from a past so distant that no memory remains of you. The cities, of course, do remember a great deal, and it is possible that one of them might know you. Or there are time travellers here, like Miss Ming, with better memories of earlier times than even the cities possess. What I am trying to say, sir, is that we are not being deliberately obtuse. We should be only too willing to show you proper respect if we knew who you were and how we should show it. It is on you, the onus, I regret."
The head jerked from side to side; a curious cockatoo. "Eh?"
"Name, rank and serial number!" Miss Ming guffawed.
"Eh?"
"We are an ancient and ignorant people," Abu Thaleb apologized. "Well, at least, I speak for myself. I am very ancient and extremely ignorant. Except, I should explain, in the matter of elephants, where I am something of an expert."
"Elephants?"
The stranger's blue eyes glittered. "So this is what you have become? Dilettantes! Fops! Dandies! Cynics! Quasi-realists!"
"We have become all things at the End of Time," said Doctor Volospion. "Variety flourishes, if originality does not."
"Pah! I call you lifeless bones. But fear not. I am returned to resurrect you. I am Power. I am the forgotten Spirit of Mankind. I am Possibility."
"Quite so," said Doctor Volospion agreeably. "But I think, sir, that you underestimate the degree of our sophistication."
"We have really considered the matter quite closely, some of us," Abu Thaleb wished the stranger to know. "We are definitely, it seems, doomed."
"Not now! Not now!" The little man jerked his hand and fire began to roar upon Argonheart Po's cola lake. It was a bright, unlikely red. There was heat.
"Delightful," murmured Doctor Volospion. "But if I may demonstrate…" He turned a sapphire ring on his right finger. Pale blue clouds formed over the lake. A light rain fell. The fire guttered. It died. "You will see," added Doctor Volospion quickly, noting the stranger's expression, "that we enjoy a certain amount of control over the elements." He turned another ring. The fire returned.
"I am not here to match conjuring tricks with you, my jackal-eyed friend!" The stranger gestured and a halo of bright flame appeared around his head. He swept his arms about and black clouds filled the sky once more and thunder boomed again; lightning crashed. "I use my mastery merely to demonstrate my moral purpose."
Doctor Volospion raised a delighted hand to his mouth. "I did not realize…"
"Well, you shall! You shall know me! I shall awaken the memory dreaming in the forgotten places of your minds. Then, how gladly you will welcome me! For I am Salvation." He struck a pose and his high, musical voice very nearly sang his next speech:
"Oh, call me Satan, for I am cast down from Heaven! The teeming worlds of the multiverse have been my domicile till now; but here I am, come back to you, at long last. You do not know me now — but you shall know me soon. I am He for whom you have been waiting. I am the Sun Eagle. Ah, now shall this old world blossom with my fire. For I shall be triumphant, the terrible, intolerant Master of your Globe."
He paused only for a second to review his audience, his head on one side. Then he filled his lungs and continued with his litany:
"This is my birthright, my duty, my desire. I claim the World. I claim all its denizens as my subjects. I shall instruct you in the glories of the Spirit. You sleep now. You have forgotten how to fly on the wild winds that blow from Heaven and from Hell, for now you cower beneath a mere breeze that is the cold Wind of Limbo. It flattens you, deadens you, and you abase yourselves passively before it, because you know no other wind."
His hands settled upon his hips. "But I am the wind. I am the air and the fire to resurrect your Spirit. You two, you bewildered men, shall be my first disciples. And you, woman, shall be my glorious consort."
Mavis Ming gave a little shudder and confided to Abu Thaleb: "I couldn't think of anything worse. What a bombastic little idiot! Isn't one of you going to put him in his place?"
"Oh, he is entertaining, you know," said Abu Thaleb tolerantly.
"Charming," agreed Doctor Volospion. "You should be flattered, Miss Ming."
"What? Because he hasn't seen another woman in a thousand years?"
Doctor Volospion smiled. "You do yourself discredit."
The stranger did not seem upset by the lack of immediate effect he had on them. He turned grave, intense eyes upon her. Mavis Ming might have blushed. He spoke with thrilling authority, for all his pre-pubescent pitch:
"Beautiful and proud you may be, woman, yet you shall bend to me when the time comes. You shall not then react with callow cynicism."
"I think you've got rather old-fashioned ideas about women, my friend," said Miss Ming staunchly.
"Your true soul is buried now. But I shall reveal it to you."
The sky began to clear. A flock of transparent pteranodons sailed unsteadily overhead, fleeing the sun. Miss Ming pretended an interest in the flying creatures. But it was plain that the stranger had her attention.
"I am Life," he said, "and you are Death."
"Well…" she began, offended.
He explained: "At this moment everything is Death that is not me."
"I'm beginning to pity you," said Mavis Ming in an artificial voice. "It's obvious that you've been so long in space, whatever your name is, that you've gone completely mad!" She made nervous tuggings and pullings at her costume. "And if you're trying to scare me, or turn my stomach, or make fun of me, I can assure you that I've dealt with much tougher customers than you in my time. All right?"
"So," he said, in tones meant only for her, "your mind resists me. Your training resists me. Your mother and your father and your society resist me. Perhaps even your body resists me. But your soul does not. Your soul listens. Your soul pines for me. How many years have you refused to listen to its promptings? How many years of discomfort, of sorrow, of depravity and degradation? How many nights have you battled against your dreams and your true desires? Soon you shall kneel before me and know your own power, your own strength."
Miss Ming took a deep breath. She looked to Doctor Volospion for help, but his expression was bland, mildly curious. Abu Thaleb seemed only embarrassed.
"Listen, you," she said, "where I come from women have had the vote for 150 years. They've had equal rights for almost 100. There are probably more women in administrative jobs than there are men and more than 50 percent of all leading politicians are women, and when I left we hadn't had a big war for ten years, and we know all about dictators, sexual chauvinists and old-fashioned seducers. I did a History of Sexism course as part of my post-graduate studies, so I know what I'm talking about."
He listened attentively enough to all this before replying. "You speak of Rights and Precedents, woman. You refer to Choice and Education. But what if these are the very chains which enslave the spirit? I offer you neither security nor responsibility — save the security of knowing your own identity and the responsibility of maintaining it. I offer you Dignity."
Miss Ming opened her mouth.
"I note that you are a romantic, sir," said Doctor Volospion with some relish.
The stranger no longer seemed aware of his presence, but continued to stare at Mavis Ming who frowned and cast about in her troubled skull for appropriate defence. She failed and instead sought the aid of her protector.
"Can we go now?" she whispered to Doctor Volospion. "He might do something dangerous."
Doctor Volospion lowered his voice only a trifle. "If my reading of our friend's character is correct, he shares a preference with all those of his type for words and dramatic but unspecific actions. I find him quite stimulating. You know my interests…"
"Do not reject my gifts, woman," warned the stranger. "Others have offered you Liberty (if that is what it is) but I offer you nothing less than yourself — your whole self."
Miss Ming tried to bridle and, unsuccessful, turned away. "Really, Doctor Volospion," she began urgently, "I've had enough…"
Abu Thaleb attempted intercession. "Sir, we have few established customs, though we have enjoyed and continue to enjoy many fashions in manners, but it would seem to me that, since you are a guest in our Age…"
"Guest!" The little man was astonished. "I am not your guest, sir, I am your Saviour."
"Be that as it may…"
"There is no more to be said. There is no question of my calling!"
"Be that as it may, you are disturbing this lady, who is not of our time and is therefore perhaps more sensitive to your remarks than if she were, um, indigenous to the Age. I think 'stress' is the word I seek, though I am not too certain of how 'stress' manifests itself. Miss Ming?" He begged for illumination.
"He's a pain in the neck, if that's what you mean," said Miss Ming boldly. "But you get used to that here." She drew herself up.
"As a gentleman, sir —" continued Abu Thaleb.
"Gentleman? I have never claimed to be a 'gentleman'. Unless by that you mean I am a man — a throbbing, ardent, lover of women — of one woman, now — of that woman!" His quivering finger pointed.
Miss Ming turned her back full on him and clambered into Abu Thaleb's howdah. She sat, stiff-necked, upon the cushions, her arms folded in front of her.
The stranger smiled almost tenderly. "Ah, she is so beautiful! So feminine! Ah!"
"Doctor Volospion," Miss Ming's voice was flat and cold. "I should like to go home now."
Doctor Volospion laughed.
"Nonsense, my dear Miss Ming." He bowed a fraction to the stranger, as if to apologize. "It has been an eternity since we entertained such a glorious guest. I am eager to hear his views. You know my interest in ancient religions — my collection, my menagerie, my investigations — well, here we have a genuine prophet." A deeper bow to the stranger. "A preacher who shows Li Pao up for the parsimonious hair-splitter that he is. If we are to be berated for our sins, then let it be full-bloodedly, with threats of fire and brimstone!"
"I said nothing of brimstone," said the stranger.
"Forgive me."
Miss Ming leaned from the howdah to put her lips to Doctor Volospion's ear. "You think he's genuine, then?"
He stroked his chin. "Your meaning is misty, Miss Ming."
"Oh, I give up," she said. "It's all right for everybody else, but that madman's more or less announced his firm decision to rape me at the earliest opportunity."
"Nonsense," objected Doctor Volospion. "He has been nothing but chivalrous."
"It would be like being raped by a pigeon," she added. She withdrew into herself.
Doctor Volospion's last glance in her direction was calculating but when he next addressed the stranger he was all hospitality. "Your own introduction, sir, has been perhaps a mite vague. May I be more specific in my presentation of myself and my friends. This lovely lady, whose beauty has understandably made such an impression upon you, is Miss Mavis Ming. This gentleman is Abu Thaleb, Commissar of Bengal —"
"— and Lord of All Elephants," modestly appended the commissar.
"— while I, your humble servant, am called Doctor Volospion. I think we share similar tastes, for I have long studied the religions and the faiths of the past and judge myself something of a connoisseur of Belief. You would be interested, I think, in my collection, and I would greatly value your inspection of it for, in truth, there are few fellow-spirits in this world-weary Age of ours."
The stranger's red lips formed a haughty smile. "I am no theologian, Doctor Volospion. At least, only in the sense that I am, of course, All Things…"
"Of course, of course, but —"
"And I see you for a trickster, a poseur."
"I assure you —"
"I know you for a poor ghost of a creature, seeking in bad casuistry, to give a dead mind some semblance of life. You are cold, sir, and the cruelties by means of which you attempt to warm your own blood are petty things, the products of a niggardly imagination and some small, but ill-trained, intelligence. Only the generous can be truly cruel for they know also what it is to be truly charitable."
"You object to casuistry, and yet you do not disdain the use of empty paradox, I note." Doctor Volospion remained, so it appeared, in good humour. "I am sure, sir, when we are better acquainted, you will not be so wary of me."
"Wary? I should be wary? Ha! If that is how you would misrepresent my nature, to comfort yourself, then I give you full permission. But know this — in giving that permission I am allowing you to remain in the grave when it might have been that you could have known true life again."
"I am impressed…"
"No more! I am your Master, whether you acknowledge it or no, whether I care or no, and that is unquestionable. I'll waste no more energy in debate with you, manikin."
"Manikin!" Miss Ming snorted. "That's a good one."
Doctor Volospion put a finger on his lips. "Please, Miss Ming. I would continue this conversation."
"After he's insulted you —"
"He speaks his mind, that is all. He does not know our preferences for euphemism and ornament, and so —"
"Exactly," said Abu Thaleb, relieved. "He will come to understand our ways soon."
"Be certain," fluted the stranger, "that it is you who will come to understand my ways. I have no respect for customs, manners, fashions, for I am Bloom the Eternal. I am Bloom, who has experienced All. I am Emmanuel Bloom, whom Time cannot touch, whom Space cannot suppress!"
"A name at last," said Doctor Volospion in apparent delight. "We greet you, Mr Bloom."
"That's funny," said Miss Ming, "You don't look Jewish."
7. In which Doctor Volospion becomes eager to offer Mr Bloom his Hospitality
8. In which Miss Ming begins to feel a certain curiosity concerning the intentions of Emmanuel Bloom
"Oh, the journey has demented him," suggested Mavis Ming.
Abu Thaleb cleared his throat. "I believe you have the advantage, sir…"
"We missed the name," explained Doctor Volospion, his voice a fraction animated.
A sweet smile appeared upon the creature's ruby lips. "But you must recognize me!"
"Not a stirring of memory, for my part," said Doctor Volospion.
"A picture, perhaps, in the old cities. But no…" said Abu Thaleb.
"You do look like someone. Some old writer or other," said Miss Ming. "I never did literature."
He frowned. He turned his palms inwards. He looked down at his own strange body. His voice trilled on. "Yes. Yes. I suppose it is possible that you do not recognize this particular manifestation."
"Perhaps you could offer a clue." Doctor Volospion sat up in his cushions for the first time.
He was ignored. The newcomer was patting at his chest. "I have changed my physical appearance so many times that I have forgotten how I looked at first. The body has probably diminished quite a lot. The hands are certainly of a different shape. Once, as I recall, I was fat. As fat as your friend — ah, he's gone! — the one who was here when I first emerged and whose language I couldn't understand — the translator is working fine now, eh? Good, good. Oh, yes! Quite as fat as him. Fatter. And tall, I think, too. Much taller than any of you. But I leant towards economy. I had the opportunity to change. To be more comfortable in the confines of my ship. I caused my physique to be altered. Irreversibly. This form was modelled after a hero of my own whose name and achievements I forget." He drew a deep breath. "Still, the form is immaterial. I am here, as I say, to bring you Fulfilment."
"I am sure that we are all grateful," said Doctor Volospion.
"But your name, sir?" Abu Thaleb reminded him.
"Name? Names! Names! Names! I have so many!" He flung back his head and gave forth a warbling laugh. "Names!"
"Just one would help…" said Abu Thaleb without irony.
"Names?" His blue eyes fixed them. He gestured. "Names? How would you have me called? For I am the Phoenix! I am the Sun's Eagle! I am the Sun's Revenge!" He strutted to the very edge of the ramp but still did not descend. He leaned against the airlock opening. "You shall know me. You shall! For I am the claws, come to take back the heart you stole from the centre of that great furnace that is my Lord and my Slave. Eh? Do you recall me now, as I remind you of your crimes?"
"Quite mad," said Miss Ming in a low, tense voice. "I think we'd better…" But her companions were fascinated.
"Here I am!" He spread his legs and arms, to fill the airlock: X. "Magus, clown and prophet, I — Master of the World! Witness!"
Mavis Ming gasped as flames shot from his fingertips. Flames danced in his hair. Flames flickered from his nostrils. "Clownly, kingly, priestly eater and disgorger of fire! Ha!"
He laughed and gestured and balls of flame surrounded him.
"I have no ambiguities, no ambitions — I am all things! Man and woman, god and beast, child and ancient — all are compatible and all co-exist in me."
A huge sheet of fire seemed to engulf the whole ship and then vanish, leaving the newcomer standing there at the airlock, his high voice piping, his blue eyes full of pride.
"I am Mankind! I am the Multiverse! I am Life and Death and Limbo, too. I am Peace, Strife and Equilibrium. I am Damnation and Salvation. I am all that exists. And I am you!"
He threw back his little head and began to laugh while the three people stared at him in silent astonishment. For the first time he walked a little way down the ramp, balancing on the balls of his feet, extending his arms at his sides. And he began to sing:
"For I am GOD — and SATAN, too!
"PHOENIX, FAUST and FOOL!
"My MADNESS is DIVINE, and COOL my SENSE!
"I am your DOOM, your PROVIDENCE!"
"We are still, I fear, at a loss…" murmured Doctor Volospion, but he could not be heard by the singing creature whose attention was suddenly, as if for the first time, on Mavis Ming.
Miss Ming retreated a step or two. "Oo! What do you think you're looking at, chum!"
He stopped his singing. His features became eager. He bent to regard her.
"Ah! What a splendid woman!"
He moved still further down the ramp and he was sighing with pleasure.
"Oh, Madonna of Lust. Ah, my Tigress, my Temptation. Mm! Never have I seen such beauty! But this is Ultimate Femininity!"
"I've had enough," said Miss Ming severely, and she began to edge away.
He did not follow, but his eyes enchained her. His high, singsong voice became ecstatic.
"Enough? You have known nothing until now! What Beauty! Ah — I will bring great wings to beat upon your breast." His hands clenched at air. "Tearing talons your talents shall grasp! Claws of blood and sinew shall catch the silver strings of your cool harp! Ha! I'll have you, madam, never fear! Ho! I'll bring your blood to the surface of your skin! Hei! It shall pulse there — in service to my sin!"
"I'm not hanging around," she said, but she did not move.
The other two watched, forgotten by both, as the strange, mad figure pranced upon his ramp, paying court to the fat, bewildered lady in blue and yellow below.
"You shall be mine, madam. You shall be mine! This is worth all those many millennia when I was denied any form of consolation, any sort of human company. I have crossed galaxies and dimensions to find my reward! Now I know my twofold mission. To save this world and to win this woman!"
"No chance," she breathed. "Ugh!" She panted but could not flee.
He ignored her, or else had not heard her, his attention drawn back to Doctor Volospion. "You asked my name. Now do you recognize me?"
"Not specifically." Even Doctor Volospion was impressed by the intensity of the newcomer's speech. "Um — perhaps another clue?"
Bang! A stream of flame had shot from the man's hand and destroyed one of Werther's unfinished mountains.
Boom! The sky darkened and thunder shook the landscape while lightning struck all about them. Chaos swirled around the ship and out of it stared the newcomer's face shouting:
"There! Is that enough to tell you?"
Abu Thaleb demurred. "That was one of a set of mountains manufactured by someone who was hoping…"
"Manufactured?"
The thunder stopped. The lightning ceased. The sky became clear again.
"Manufactured? You make these pathetic landscapes? From choice? Pah!"
"There are other things we make…"
"And what puny conceits! Paint! I use all that is real for my canvases. Fire, water, earth and air — and human souls!"
"We can sometimes achieve quite interesting effects," continued Abu Thaleb manfully, "by…"
"Nonsense! Know you this — that I am the Controller of your Destinies! Re-born, I come among you to give you New Life! I offer the Universe!"
"We have had the universe," said Doctor Volospion. "That is partly why we are in our current predicament. It is all used up."
"Bah! Well, well, well. So I must take it upon myself again to rescue the race. Yes, well I shall not betray you — as you have betrayed me in the past. Again I give you the opportunity. Follow me!"
The Commissar of Bengal passed a hand over the gleaming corkscrew curls of his blue-black beard; he tugged at the red Star of India decorating his left ear-lobe; he fingered a feather of his turban.
"Follow you? By Allah, sir, I'm confounded! Follow you? Not a word, I fear. Not a syllable."
"That is not what I meant."
"I think," interposed Doctor Volospion, "that our visitor regards himself as a prophet — a chosen spokesman for some religion or other. The phrase he uses is more than familiar to me. Doubtless he wishes to convert us to the worship of his god."
"God? God! God! I am no servant of a Higher Power!" The visitor's neck flashed back in shock. "Unless, as can fairly be said, I serve myself — and Mankind, of course…"
Doctor Volospion casually changed the colour of his robes to dark green and silver, then to crimson and black. He sighed. He became all black.
The visitor watched this process with some contempt. "What have we here? A jester to my clown?"
Doctor Volospion glanced up. "Forgive me if I seem unmannerly. I was seeking an appropriate colour for my mood."
Abu Thaleb was dogged. "Sir, if you could introduce yourself, perhaps a little more formally…?"
The stranger regarded him through a milder eye, as if giving the commissar's remark weighty consideration.
"A name? Just one," coaxed the Lord of All Elephants. "It might jog our memories, d'you see?"
"I am your Messiah."
"There!" cried Doctor Volospion, pleased with his earlier interpretation.
The Messiah raised inflexible arms towards the skies. "I am the Prophet of the Sun! Flamebringer, call me!"
Still more animated, even amused, Doctor Volospion turned his attention away from his cuffs (now of purple lace) to remark: "The name is not familiar, sir. Where are you from?"
"Earth! I am from Earth!" The prophet gripped the lapels of his velvet coat. "You must know me. I have given you every hint."
"But when did you leave Earth?" Abu Thaleb put in, intending help. "Perhaps we are further in your future than you realize. This planet, you see, is millions, billions, of years old. Why, there is every evidence that it would have perished a long time ago — so far as supporting human life was concerned, at any rate — if we had not, with the aid of our great, old cities, maintained it. You could be from a past so distant that no memory remains of you. The cities, of course, do remember a great deal, and it is possible that one of them might know you. Or there are time travellers here, like Miss Ming, with better memories of earlier times than even the cities possess. What I am trying to say, sir, is that we are not being deliberately obtuse. We should be only too willing to show you proper respect if we knew who you were and how we should show it. It is on you, the onus, I regret."
The head jerked from side to side; a curious cockatoo. "Eh?"
"Name, rank and serial number!" Miss Ming guffawed.
"Eh?"
"We are an ancient and ignorant people," Abu Thaleb apologized. "Well, at least, I speak for myself. I am very ancient and extremely ignorant. Except, I should explain, in the matter of elephants, where I am something of an expert."
"Elephants?"
The stranger's blue eyes glittered. "So this is what you have become? Dilettantes! Fops! Dandies! Cynics! Quasi-realists!"
"We have become all things at the End of Time," said Doctor Volospion. "Variety flourishes, if originality does not."
"Pah! I call you lifeless bones. But fear not. I am returned to resurrect you. I am Power. I am the forgotten Spirit of Mankind. I am Possibility."
"Quite so," said Doctor Volospion agreeably. "But I think, sir, that you underestimate the degree of our sophistication."
"We have really considered the matter quite closely, some of us," Abu Thaleb wished the stranger to know. "We are definitely, it seems, doomed."
"Not now! Not now!" The little man jerked his hand and fire began to roar upon Argonheart Po's cola lake. It was a bright, unlikely red. There was heat.
"Delightful," murmured Doctor Volospion. "But if I may demonstrate…" He turned a sapphire ring on his right finger. Pale blue clouds formed over the lake. A light rain fell. The fire guttered. It died. "You will see," added Doctor Volospion quickly, noting the stranger's expression, "that we enjoy a certain amount of control over the elements." He turned another ring. The fire returned.
"I am not here to match conjuring tricks with you, my jackal-eyed friend!" The stranger gestured and a halo of bright flame appeared around his head. He swept his arms about and black clouds filled the sky once more and thunder boomed again; lightning crashed. "I use my mastery merely to demonstrate my moral purpose."
Doctor Volospion raised a delighted hand to his mouth. "I did not realize…"
"Well, you shall! You shall know me! I shall awaken the memory dreaming in the forgotten places of your minds. Then, how gladly you will welcome me! For I am Salvation." He struck a pose and his high, musical voice very nearly sang his next speech:
"Oh, call me Satan, for I am cast down from Heaven! The teeming worlds of the multiverse have been my domicile till now; but here I am, come back to you, at long last. You do not know me now — but you shall know me soon. I am He for whom you have been waiting. I am the Sun Eagle. Ah, now shall this old world blossom with my fire. For I shall be triumphant, the terrible, intolerant Master of your Globe."
He paused only for a second to review his audience, his head on one side. Then he filled his lungs and continued with his litany:
"This is my birthright, my duty, my desire. I claim the World. I claim all its denizens as my subjects. I shall instruct you in the glories of the Spirit. You sleep now. You have forgotten how to fly on the wild winds that blow from Heaven and from Hell, for now you cower beneath a mere breeze that is the cold Wind of Limbo. It flattens you, deadens you, and you abase yourselves passively before it, because you know no other wind."
His hands settled upon his hips. "But I am the wind. I am the air and the fire to resurrect your Spirit. You two, you bewildered men, shall be my first disciples. And you, woman, shall be my glorious consort."
Mavis Ming gave a little shudder and confided to Abu Thaleb: "I couldn't think of anything worse. What a bombastic little idiot! Isn't one of you going to put him in his place?"
"Oh, he is entertaining, you know," said Abu Thaleb tolerantly.
"Charming," agreed Doctor Volospion. "You should be flattered, Miss Ming."
"What? Because he hasn't seen another woman in a thousand years?"
Doctor Volospion smiled. "You do yourself discredit."
The stranger did not seem upset by the lack of immediate effect he had on them. He turned grave, intense eyes upon her. Mavis Ming might have blushed. He spoke with thrilling authority, for all his pre-pubescent pitch:
"Beautiful and proud you may be, woman, yet you shall bend to me when the time comes. You shall not then react with callow cynicism."
"I think you've got rather old-fashioned ideas about women, my friend," said Miss Ming staunchly.
"Your true soul is buried now. But I shall reveal it to you."
The sky began to clear. A flock of transparent pteranodons sailed unsteadily overhead, fleeing the sun. Miss Ming pretended an interest in the flying creatures. But it was plain that the stranger had her attention.
"I am Life," he said, "and you are Death."
"Well…" she began, offended.
He explained: "At this moment everything is Death that is not me."
"I'm beginning to pity you," said Mavis Ming in an artificial voice. "It's obvious that you've been so long in space, whatever your name is, that you've gone completely mad!" She made nervous tuggings and pullings at her costume. "And if you're trying to scare me, or turn my stomach, or make fun of me, I can assure you that I've dealt with much tougher customers than you in my time. All right?"
"So," he said, in tones meant only for her, "your mind resists me. Your training resists me. Your mother and your father and your society resist me. Perhaps even your body resists me. But your soul does not. Your soul listens. Your soul pines for me. How many years have you refused to listen to its promptings? How many years of discomfort, of sorrow, of depravity and degradation? How many nights have you battled against your dreams and your true desires? Soon you shall kneel before me and know your own power, your own strength."
Miss Ming took a deep breath. She looked to Doctor Volospion for help, but his expression was bland, mildly curious. Abu Thaleb seemed only embarrassed.
"Listen, you," she said, "where I come from women have had the vote for 150 years. They've had equal rights for almost 100. There are probably more women in administrative jobs than there are men and more than 50 percent of all leading politicians are women, and when I left we hadn't had a big war for ten years, and we know all about dictators, sexual chauvinists and old-fashioned seducers. I did a History of Sexism course as part of my post-graduate studies, so I know what I'm talking about."
He listened attentively enough to all this before replying. "You speak of Rights and Precedents, woman. You refer to Choice and Education. But what if these are the very chains which enslave the spirit? I offer you neither security nor responsibility — save the security of knowing your own identity and the responsibility of maintaining it. I offer you Dignity."
Miss Ming opened her mouth.
"I note that you are a romantic, sir," said Doctor Volospion with some relish.
The stranger no longer seemed aware of his presence, but continued to stare at Mavis Ming who frowned and cast about in her troubled skull for appropriate defence. She failed and instead sought the aid of her protector.
"Can we go now?" she whispered to Doctor Volospion. "He might do something dangerous."
Doctor Volospion lowered his voice only a trifle. "If my reading of our friend's character is correct, he shares a preference with all those of his type for words and dramatic but unspecific actions. I find him quite stimulating. You know my interests…"
"Do not reject my gifts, woman," warned the stranger. "Others have offered you Liberty (if that is what it is) but I offer you nothing less than yourself — your whole self."
Miss Ming tried to bridle and, unsuccessful, turned away. "Really, Doctor Volospion," she began urgently, "I've had enough…"
Abu Thaleb attempted intercession. "Sir, we have few established customs, though we have enjoyed and continue to enjoy many fashions in manners, but it would seem to me that, since you are a guest in our Age…"
"Guest!" The little man was astonished. "I am not your guest, sir, I am your Saviour."
"Be that as it may…"
"There is no more to be said. There is no question of my calling!"
"Be that as it may, you are disturbing this lady, who is not of our time and is therefore perhaps more sensitive to your remarks than if she were, um, indigenous to the Age. I think 'stress' is the word I seek, though I am not too certain of how 'stress' manifests itself. Miss Ming?" He begged for illumination.
"He's a pain in the neck, if that's what you mean," said Miss Ming boldly. "But you get used to that here." She drew herself up.
"As a gentleman, sir —" continued Abu Thaleb.
"Gentleman? I have never claimed to be a 'gentleman'. Unless by that you mean I am a man — a throbbing, ardent, lover of women — of one woman, now — of that woman!" His quivering finger pointed.
Miss Ming turned her back full on him and clambered into Abu Thaleb's howdah. She sat, stiff-necked, upon the cushions, her arms folded in front of her.
The stranger smiled almost tenderly. "Ah, she is so beautiful! So feminine! Ah!"
"Doctor Volospion," Miss Ming's voice was flat and cold. "I should like to go home now."
Doctor Volospion laughed.
"Nonsense, my dear Miss Ming." He bowed a fraction to the stranger, as if to apologize. "It has been an eternity since we entertained such a glorious guest. I am eager to hear his views. You know my interest in ancient religions — my collection, my menagerie, my investigations — well, here we have a genuine prophet." A deeper bow to the stranger. "A preacher who shows Li Pao up for the parsimonious hair-splitter that he is. If we are to be berated for our sins, then let it be full-bloodedly, with threats of fire and brimstone!"
"I said nothing of brimstone," said the stranger.
"Forgive me."
Miss Ming leaned from the howdah to put her lips to Doctor Volospion's ear. "You think he's genuine, then?"
He stroked his chin. "Your meaning is misty, Miss Ming."
"Oh, I give up," she said. "It's all right for everybody else, but that madman's more or less announced his firm decision to rape me at the earliest opportunity."
"Nonsense," objected Doctor Volospion. "He has been nothing but chivalrous."
"It would be like being raped by a pigeon," she added. She withdrew into herself.
Doctor Volospion's last glance in her direction was calculating but when he next addressed the stranger he was all hospitality. "Your own introduction, sir, has been perhaps a mite vague. May I be more specific in my presentation of myself and my friends. This lovely lady, whose beauty has understandably made such an impression upon you, is Miss Mavis Ming. This gentleman is Abu Thaleb, Commissar of Bengal —"
"— and Lord of All Elephants," modestly appended the commissar.
"— while I, your humble servant, am called Doctor Volospion. I think we share similar tastes, for I have long studied the religions and the faiths of the past and judge myself something of a connoisseur of Belief. You would be interested, I think, in my collection, and I would greatly value your inspection of it for, in truth, there are few fellow-spirits in this world-weary Age of ours."
The stranger's red lips formed a haughty smile. "I am no theologian, Doctor Volospion. At least, only in the sense that I am, of course, All Things…"
"Of course, of course, but —"
"And I see you for a trickster, a poseur."
"I assure you —"
"I know you for a poor ghost of a creature, seeking in bad casuistry, to give a dead mind some semblance of life. You are cold, sir, and the cruelties by means of which you attempt to warm your own blood are petty things, the products of a niggardly imagination and some small, but ill-trained, intelligence. Only the generous can be truly cruel for they know also what it is to be truly charitable."
"You object to casuistry, and yet you do not disdain the use of empty paradox, I note." Doctor Volospion remained, so it appeared, in good humour. "I am sure, sir, when we are better acquainted, you will not be so wary of me."
"Wary? I should be wary? Ha! If that is how you would misrepresent my nature, to comfort yourself, then I give you full permission. But know this — in giving that permission I am allowing you to remain in the grave when it might have been that you could have known true life again."
"I am impressed…"
"No more! I am your Master, whether you acknowledge it or no, whether I care or no, and that is unquestionable. I'll waste no more energy in debate with you, manikin."
"Manikin!" Miss Ming snorted. "That's a good one."
Doctor Volospion put a finger on his lips. "Please, Miss Ming. I would continue this conversation."
"After he's insulted you —"
"He speaks his mind, that is all. He does not know our preferences for euphemism and ornament, and so —"
"Exactly," said Abu Thaleb, relieved. "He will come to understand our ways soon."
"Be certain," fluted the stranger, "that it is you who will come to understand my ways. I have no respect for customs, manners, fashions, for I am Bloom the Eternal. I am Bloom, who has experienced All. I am Emmanuel Bloom, whom Time cannot touch, whom Space cannot suppress!"
"A name at last," said Doctor Volospion in apparent delight. "We greet you, Mr Bloom."
"That's funny," said Miss Ming, "You don't look Jewish."
7. In which Doctor Volospion becomes eager to offer Mr Bloom his Hospitality
Mr Emmanuel Bloom seemed for the moment to have lost interest in them. He stood upon the ramp of his spaceship and stared beyond Argonheart Po's cola lake (still bearing a whisp or two of flame) towards the barren horizon. He shook his head in some despair. "My poor, poor planet. What have they made of it in my absence?"
"Do you think we could go now?" complained Miss Ming to Doctor Volospion and Abu Thaleb. "If you really want to see him again you could tell him where to find you." She had an inspiration. "Or invite him to your party, Abu Thaleb, to make up for what he did to Argonheart's feast!"
"He would be welcome, of course," said the commissar doubtfully.
"His conversation would be refreshing, I think," said Doctor Volospion. He plucked at his ruff and then, with a motion of a ring, disposed of it altogether. He was once again in green and silver, his cap tight about his head, emphasizing the angularity of his white features. "There are many there who would respond rather better than can I to the tone of his pronouncements. Werther de Goethe, for instance, with his special yearning for Sin? Or even Jherek Carnelian, if he is still with us, with his pursuit of the meaning of morality. Or Mongrove, who shares something of his monumental millennialism. Mongrove is back from space, is he not?"
"With his aliens," Abu Thaleb confirmed.
"Well, then, perhaps you should invite him now, courteous commissar?"
"We could tell him that the party was in his honour," suggested Abu Thaleb. "That would please him, don't you think? If we humour him…"
"Can't he hear us?" hissed Miss Ming.
"I think he only listens to us when it interests him to do so," guessed Doctor Volospion. "His mind appears on other things at present."
"This is all very uncomfortable for me," said Mavis Ming, "though I suppose I shouldn't complain. Not that there's a lot of point, because nobody ever listens to little Mavis. It's too much to expect, isn't it. But mark my words, he's going to make trouble for all of us, and especially for me. We shouldn't be wondering about inviting him to parties. We should tell him he's not welcome. We should give him his marching orders. Tell him to leave!"
"It is traditional to welcome all visitors to our world, Miss Ming," said Abu Thaleb. "Even the dullest has something to offer and we, in turn, can often offer sanctuary. This Mr Bloom, while I agree with you he seems a little deluded as to his importance to us, must have had many experiences of interest. He has travelled, he tells us, through time and through space. He has knowledge of numerous different societies. There will be many here who will be glad to meet him. Lord Jagged of Canaria, I am sure —"
"Jagged is gone from us again," said Volospion somewhat sharply. "Fled, some say, back into Time — to avoid disaster."
"Well, there are women, too, who would delight in meeting one so passionate. My Lady Charlotina, Mistress Christia, the Iron Orchid…"
"They're welcome," said Mavis Ming. "More than welcome. Though what any woman would see in the little creep I don't know."
"Once he meets other ladies doubtless his own infatuation for you will subside," said Abu Thaleb encouragingly. "As you say, you are probably the first woman he has seen for many a long year and he has had no opportunity to select from all our many wonderful women one who pleases him even more than you do at present. He is evidently a man of great passion. One might almost call it elephantine in its grandeur."
Miss Ming put her chin on her fist.
There was a bang. Pensively, Mr Bloom had blown up the rest of Werther's mountains. He continued to remain with his hands on his hips, contemplating the distance.
"Miss Ming. As a student of history have you any knowledge of Mr Bloom?" Doctor Volospion came and sat next to her in the howdah.
"None," she said. "Not even a legend. He must be after my time."
"A near-contemporary, I would have thought, judging by his dress."
"He said himself he'd taken on someone else's appearance. Someone he'd admired."
"Ah, yes. Another prophet, do you think?"
"From the 19th century? Who was there? Karl Marx? Nietzsche? Wagner? Maybe he looks a bit like Wagner. No. Someone like that, though. English? It's just not my period, Doctor Volospion. And religion was never my strong subject. The Middle Ages were my own favourite, because people lived such simpler lives, then. I could get quite nostalgic about the Middle Ages, even now. That's probably why I originally started doing history. When I was a little girl you couldn't get me away from all those stories of brave knights and fair ladies. I guess I was like a lot of kids, but I just hung on to that interest until I went to the university, where I got more interested in the politics, well, that was Betty, really, who was the political nut, you know. But she really had some strong ideas about politics — good ideas. She —"
"But you do not recognize Mr Bloom?"
"You couldn't fail to, could you, once you'd seen him? No. Doctor Volospion, can't you send me home on my own? If I had a power ring, even a little one, I could…"
She had hinted to him before that if she were equipped with a power ring or two she would be less of a nuisance to him. Few time travellers, however, were given the rings which tapped the energy of the old cities, certainly not when, like Miss Ming, they were comparative newcomers to the End of Time. As Doctor Volospion had explained to her before, there was a certain discipline of mind — or at least a habit of mind — which had to be learned before they could be used. Also they were not one of the artefacts which could be reproduced at will. There was a relatively limited number of them. Miss Ming had never been quite convinced by Doctor Volospion's arguments against her having her own power ring, but there was little she could do save hope that one day he would relent.
"Regretfully…" He gestured. "Not yet, Miss Ming." It was not clear to which of her suggestions he was referring. She allowed her disappointment to show on her plump face.
"Hm," said Mr Bloom from above, "it is evident that the entire planet will have to be consumed so that, from the ashes, a purer place may prosper."
"Mr Bloom!" cried Abu Thaleb. "I would remind you, sir, that while you are a most honoured guest to our world, you will inconvenience a great many people if you burn them up."
Bloom blinked as he looked down at Abu Thaleb. "Oh, they will not die. I shall resurrect them."
"They are perfectly capable of resurrecting one another, Mr Bloom. That is not my point. You see many of us have embarked on schemes — oh, menageries, collections, creations of various kinds — and if you were to destroy them they would be seriously disappointed. It would be the height of bad manners, don't you think?"
"You have already heard my opinion of manners."
"But —"
"It is for your own good," Bloom told him.
"Aha! The authentic voice of the prophet!" cried Doctor Volospion. "Sir, you must be my guest!"
"You begin to irritate me, Doctor Volospion," piped Emmanuel Bloom, "with your constant references to me as a guest. I am not a guest. I am the rightful inheritor of this world, controller of the destinies of all who dwell in it, sole Saviour of your souls."
"Quite," apologized Doctor Volospion. "I should imagine, however, that your spaceship, however grandly furnished and with whatever fine amenities, palls on you as a domicile after so many centuries. Perhaps if you would allow me to put my own humble house at your disposal until a suitable palace — or temple, perhaps — can be built for you, I should be greatly flattered."
"Your feeble attempts at guile begin to irritate me, Doctor Volospion. I am Emmanuel Bloom."
"So you have told us…"
"I am Emmanuel Bloom and I can see into every soul."
"Naturally. I merely…"
"And this priestly fawning only makes me despair of you still further. If you would defy me, defy me with some dignity."
"Mr Bloom, I am simply attempting to make you welcome. Your ideas, your language, your attitudes, they are all decidedly unfashionable now. It was my intention to offer you a dwelling from which you may observe the Age at the End of Time, and make plans for its specific salvation — at your leisure."
"My plans are simple enough. They can apply to any age. I shall destroy everything. Then I shall create it afresh. Your identity will not only be preserved, it will be fully alive, perhaps for the first time since you were born."
"Most of us," Abu Thaleb wished to point out, "were not actually born at all, Mr Bloom…"
"That is immaterial. You exist now. I shall help you find yourselves."
"Most of us are content…"
"You think you are content. Are you never restless? Do you never wake from slumber recalling a dream of something lost, something finer than anything you have ever experienced before?"
"As a matter of fact I have not slept for many a long year. The fashion died, with most people, even before I became interested in elephants."
"Do not seek to confuse the issue, Abu Thaleb."
"Mr Bloom, I am confused. I have no wish to have my precious pachyderms destroyed by you. My enthusiasm is at its height. I am sure the same can be said for at least half the population, small though it is, of this planet."
"I cannot heed you," said Emmanuel Bloom, feeling in the pockets of his velvet suit. "You will be grateful when it is done."
"At least you might canvas the opinion of a few more people, Mr Bloom." Abu Thaleb begged. "I mean to say, for all I know most people might think the idea a splendid one! It would make a dramatic change, at least…"
"And besides," said Doctor Volospion, "we certainly have the means to resist you, Mr Bloom, should you begin seriously to discommode us."
Emmanuel Bloom began to stride up the ramp of his spaceship. "I am weary of all this. Woman, do you come with me now?"
Miss Ming maintained silence.
"Please reconsider, Mr Bloom," Doctor Volospion said spiritedly, "as my guest you would share the roof with many great philosophers and prophets, with messiahs and reformers of every description."
"It sounds," piped Mr Bloom, "like Hell."
"And there are things you should see. Souvenirs of a million faiths. Miraculous artefacts of every kind."
Emmanuel Bloom seemed mildly interested. "Eh?"
"Magical swords, relics, supernatural stones — my collection is justly famous."
Emmanuel Bloom continued on his way.
"You would, as well as enjoying this fabulous company, be sharing the same roof as Miss Ming, who is another guest of mine," said Doctor Volospion.
"Miss Ming comes with me. Now."
"Oh, no I don't," exclaimed Miss Ming.
"What?" Emmanuel Bloom paused again.
"Miss Ming stays with me," said Doctor Volospion. "If you wish to visit her, you may visit her at my dwelling."
"Oh, don't bother with him!" said Mavis Ming.
"You will come to me, in time, Mavis Ming," said Emmanuel Bloom.
"That's the funniest thing I've ever heard," she told him. She said to Doctor Volospion: "It's a bit insensitive of you, isn't it, Doctor Volospion, to use me as bait? Why do you want him so badly?"
Doctor Volospion ignored the question.
"You would be very comfortable at Castle Volospion," he told Mr Bloom. "Everything you could desire — food, wine, luxurious furniture, women, boys, any animal of your taste…"
"I need no luxuries and I desire only one woman. She shall be mine soon enough."
"It would make Miss Ming happy, I am sure, if you became my g— if you used my house."
"You are determined, I think, to misunderstand my mission upon this world. I have come to re-fire the Earth, as its Leader and its Hero. To restore Love and Madness and Idealism to their proper eminence. To infuse your blood with the stuff that makes it race, that makes the heart beat and the head swim! Look about you, manikin, and tell me if you see any heroes. You no longer have heroes — and you have such paltry villains!"
"It does not seem reasonable of you to judge by us three alone," said Abu Thaleb.
"Three's enough. Enough to tell the general condition of the whole. Your society is revealed in your language, your gestures, your costumes, your landscapes! Oh, how sad, how ruined, how unfulfilled you are! Ah, how you must have longed, in your secret thoughts, those thoughts hidden even from yourselves, for me to return. And look now — you still do not realize it."
He smiled benevolently down on them, standing near the entrance to his ship.
"But that realization shall dawn anon, be sure of that. You ask me to live in one of your houses — in a tomb, I say. And could I bear to leave my ship behind? My much-named ship, the Golden Hind? Or Firedrake call her, Virgin Flame — Pi-meson or the Magdelaine — sailing out of Carthage, Tyre, Old Bristol or Bombay: Captain Emmanuel Bloom, late of Jerusalem, founder of the Mayan faith, builder of pyramids, called Ra or Raleigh, dependent on your taste — Kubla Khan or Prester John, Baldur, Mithras, Zoroaster — the Sun's Fool, for I bring you Flame in which to drown! I am blooming Bloom, blunderer through the million planes — I am Bloom, the booming drum of destiny. I am Bloom — the Fireclown! Aha! Now you know me!"
The three faces stared blankly up.
He leaned with his hand against the entrance to the airlock, his head on his shoulder, his eye beady and intelligent. "Eh?"
Doctor Volospion remained uncharacteristically placatory. "Perhaps you could enlighten us over a meal? You must be hungry. We can offer the choicest foods to suit the most demanding of tastes. Please, Mr Bloom, I ask again that you reconsider…"
"No."
"You feel I have misinterpreted you, I know. But I am an earnest student. I remain a mite confused. Your penchant for metaphor…"
The Fireclown clapped a tiny hand to a tiny knee. He frowned at Doctor Volospion. "One metaphor is worth a million of your euphemisms, Doctor Volospion. I have problems to consider and must seek solitude. I have poetry to write — or to recall — I forget which — and need time for meditation. I should accept your invitation for it is my duty to broaden your mind — but that duty can wait."
He turned again to regard the woman.
"You'll join me now, Miss Ming?"
His huge blue eyes flashed suddenly with an intelligence, a humour, which shocked her completely from her hard-won composure.
"What?" The response was mindless.
He stretched out a hand. "Come with me now. I offer you pain and knowledge, lust and freedom. Hm?"
She began to rise, as if mesmerized. She seemed to be shivering. Then she sat down. "Certainly not!"
Emmanuel Bloom laughed. "You'll come." He returned his attention to Doctor Volospion. "And I would advise you, sir, to save your breath in this meaningless and puny Temptation. Your hatred of me is patent, whether you admit it to yourself or not. I would warn you to cease your irritation."
"You still refuse to believe my good faith, Mr Bloom. So be it." Doctor Volospion bowed low.
The ramp was withdrawn. The airlock shut.
No further sound escaped the ship.
"Do you think we could go now?" complained Miss Ming to Doctor Volospion and Abu Thaleb. "If you really want to see him again you could tell him where to find you." She had an inspiration. "Or invite him to your party, Abu Thaleb, to make up for what he did to Argonheart's feast!"
"He would be welcome, of course," said the commissar doubtfully.
"His conversation would be refreshing, I think," said Doctor Volospion. He plucked at his ruff and then, with a motion of a ring, disposed of it altogether. He was once again in green and silver, his cap tight about his head, emphasizing the angularity of his white features. "There are many there who would respond rather better than can I to the tone of his pronouncements. Werther de Goethe, for instance, with his special yearning for Sin? Or even Jherek Carnelian, if he is still with us, with his pursuit of the meaning of morality. Or Mongrove, who shares something of his monumental millennialism. Mongrove is back from space, is he not?"
"With his aliens," Abu Thaleb confirmed.
"Well, then, perhaps you should invite him now, courteous commissar?"
"We could tell him that the party was in his honour," suggested Abu Thaleb. "That would please him, don't you think? If we humour him…"
"Can't he hear us?" hissed Miss Ming.
"I think he only listens to us when it interests him to do so," guessed Doctor Volospion. "His mind appears on other things at present."
"This is all very uncomfortable for me," said Mavis Ming, "though I suppose I shouldn't complain. Not that there's a lot of point, because nobody ever listens to little Mavis. It's too much to expect, isn't it. But mark my words, he's going to make trouble for all of us, and especially for me. We shouldn't be wondering about inviting him to parties. We should tell him he's not welcome. We should give him his marching orders. Tell him to leave!"
"It is traditional to welcome all visitors to our world, Miss Ming," said Abu Thaleb. "Even the dullest has something to offer and we, in turn, can often offer sanctuary. This Mr Bloom, while I agree with you he seems a little deluded as to his importance to us, must have had many experiences of interest. He has travelled, he tells us, through time and through space. He has knowledge of numerous different societies. There will be many here who will be glad to meet him. Lord Jagged of Canaria, I am sure —"
"Jagged is gone from us again," said Volospion somewhat sharply. "Fled, some say, back into Time — to avoid disaster."
"Well, there are women, too, who would delight in meeting one so passionate. My Lady Charlotina, Mistress Christia, the Iron Orchid…"
"They're welcome," said Mavis Ming. "More than welcome. Though what any woman would see in the little creep I don't know."
"Once he meets other ladies doubtless his own infatuation for you will subside," said Abu Thaleb encouragingly. "As you say, you are probably the first woman he has seen for many a long year and he has had no opportunity to select from all our many wonderful women one who pleases him even more than you do at present. He is evidently a man of great passion. One might almost call it elephantine in its grandeur."
Miss Ming put her chin on her fist.
There was a bang. Pensively, Mr Bloom had blown up the rest of Werther's mountains. He continued to remain with his hands on his hips, contemplating the distance.
"Miss Ming. As a student of history have you any knowledge of Mr Bloom?" Doctor Volospion came and sat next to her in the howdah.
"None," she said. "Not even a legend. He must be after my time."
"A near-contemporary, I would have thought, judging by his dress."
"He said himself he'd taken on someone else's appearance. Someone he'd admired."
"Ah, yes. Another prophet, do you think?"
"From the 19th century? Who was there? Karl Marx? Nietzsche? Wagner? Maybe he looks a bit like Wagner. No. Someone like that, though. English? It's just not my period, Doctor Volospion. And religion was never my strong subject. The Middle Ages were my own favourite, because people lived such simpler lives, then. I could get quite nostalgic about the Middle Ages, even now. That's probably why I originally started doing history. When I was a little girl you couldn't get me away from all those stories of brave knights and fair ladies. I guess I was like a lot of kids, but I just hung on to that interest until I went to the university, where I got more interested in the politics, well, that was Betty, really, who was the political nut, you know. But she really had some strong ideas about politics — good ideas. She —"
"But you do not recognize Mr Bloom?"
"You couldn't fail to, could you, once you'd seen him? No. Doctor Volospion, can't you send me home on my own? If I had a power ring, even a little one, I could…"
She had hinted to him before that if she were equipped with a power ring or two she would be less of a nuisance to him. Few time travellers, however, were given the rings which tapped the energy of the old cities, certainly not when, like Miss Ming, they were comparative newcomers to the End of Time. As Doctor Volospion had explained to her before, there was a certain discipline of mind — or at least a habit of mind — which had to be learned before they could be used. Also they were not one of the artefacts which could be reproduced at will. There was a relatively limited number of them. Miss Ming had never been quite convinced by Doctor Volospion's arguments against her having her own power ring, but there was little she could do save hope that one day he would relent.
"Regretfully…" He gestured. "Not yet, Miss Ming." It was not clear to which of her suggestions he was referring. She allowed her disappointment to show on her plump face.
"Hm," said Mr Bloom from above, "it is evident that the entire planet will have to be consumed so that, from the ashes, a purer place may prosper."
"Mr Bloom!" cried Abu Thaleb. "I would remind you, sir, that while you are a most honoured guest to our world, you will inconvenience a great many people if you burn them up."
Bloom blinked as he looked down at Abu Thaleb. "Oh, they will not die. I shall resurrect them."
"They are perfectly capable of resurrecting one another, Mr Bloom. That is not my point. You see many of us have embarked on schemes — oh, menageries, collections, creations of various kinds — and if you were to destroy them they would be seriously disappointed. It would be the height of bad manners, don't you think?"
"You have already heard my opinion of manners."
"But —"
"It is for your own good," Bloom told him.
"Aha! The authentic voice of the prophet!" cried Doctor Volospion. "Sir, you must be my guest!"
"You begin to irritate me, Doctor Volospion," piped Emmanuel Bloom, "with your constant references to me as a guest. I am not a guest. I am the rightful inheritor of this world, controller of the destinies of all who dwell in it, sole Saviour of your souls."
"Quite," apologized Doctor Volospion. "I should imagine, however, that your spaceship, however grandly furnished and with whatever fine amenities, palls on you as a domicile after so many centuries. Perhaps if you would allow me to put my own humble house at your disposal until a suitable palace — or temple, perhaps — can be built for you, I should be greatly flattered."
"Your feeble attempts at guile begin to irritate me, Doctor Volospion. I am Emmanuel Bloom."
"So you have told us…"
"I am Emmanuel Bloom and I can see into every soul."
"Naturally. I merely…"
"And this priestly fawning only makes me despair of you still further. If you would defy me, defy me with some dignity."
"Mr Bloom, I am simply attempting to make you welcome. Your ideas, your language, your attitudes, they are all decidedly unfashionable now. It was my intention to offer you a dwelling from which you may observe the Age at the End of Time, and make plans for its specific salvation — at your leisure."
"My plans are simple enough. They can apply to any age. I shall destroy everything. Then I shall create it afresh. Your identity will not only be preserved, it will be fully alive, perhaps for the first time since you were born."
"Most of us," Abu Thaleb wished to point out, "were not actually born at all, Mr Bloom…"
"That is immaterial. You exist now. I shall help you find yourselves."
"Most of us are content…"
"You think you are content. Are you never restless? Do you never wake from slumber recalling a dream of something lost, something finer than anything you have ever experienced before?"
"As a matter of fact I have not slept for many a long year. The fashion died, with most people, even before I became interested in elephants."
"Do not seek to confuse the issue, Abu Thaleb."
"Mr Bloom, I am confused. I have no wish to have my precious pachyderms destroyed by you. My enthusiasm is at its height. I am sure the same can be said for at least half the population, small though it is, of this planet."
"I cannot heed you," said Emmanuel Bloom, feeling in the pockets of his velvet suit. "You will be grateful when it is done."
"At least you might canvas the opinion of a few more people, Mr Bloom." Abu Thaleb begged. "I mean to say, for all I know most people might think the idea a splendid one! It would make a dramatic change, at least…"
"And besides," said Doctor Volospion, "we certainly have the means to resist you, Mr Bloom, should you begin seriously to discommode us."
Emmanuel Bloom began to stride up the ramp of his spaceship. "I am weary of all this. Woman, do you come with me now?"
Miss Ming maintained silence.
"Please reconsider, Mr Bloom," Doctor Volospion said spiritedly, "as my guest you would share the roof with many great philosophers and prophets, with messiahs and reformers of every description."
"It sounds," piped Mr Bloom, "like Hell."
"And there are things you should see. Souvenirs of a million faiths. Miraculous artefacts of every kind."
Emmanuel Bloom seemed mildly interested. "Eh?"
"Magical swords, relics, supernatural stones — my collection is justly famous."
Emmanuel Bloom continued on his way.
"You would, as well as enjoying this fabulous company, be sharing the same roof as Miss Ming, who is another guest of mine," said Doctor Volospion.
"Miss Ming comes with me. Now."
"Oh, no I don't," exclaimed Miss Ming.
"What?" Emmanuel Bloom paused again.
"Miss Ming stays with me," said Doctor Volospion. "If you wish to visit her, you may visit her at my dwelling."
"Oh, don't bother with him!" said Mavis Ming.
"You will come to me, in time, Mavis Ming," said Emmanuel Bloom.
"That's the funniest thing I've ever heard," she told him. She said to Doctor Volospion: "It's a bit insensitive of you, isn't it, Doctor Volospion, to use me as bait? Why do you want him so badly?"
Doctor Volospion ignored the question.
"You would be very comfortable at Castle Volospion," he told Mr Bloom. "Everything you could desire — food, wine, luxurious furniture, women, boys, any animal of your taste…"
"I need no luxuries and I desire only one woman. She shall be mine soon enough."
"It would make Miss Ming happy, I am sure, if you became my g— if you used my house."
"You are determined, I think, to misunderstand my mission upon this world. I have come to re-fire the Earth, as its Leader and its Hero. To restore Love and Madness and Idealism to their proper eminence. To infuse your blood with the stuff that makes it race, that makes the heart beat and the head swim! Look about you, manikin, and tell me if you see any heroes. You no longer have heroes — and you have such paltry villains!"
"It does not seem reasonable of you to judge by us three alone," said Abu Thaleb.
"Three's enough. Enough to tell the general condition of the whole. Your society is revealed in your language, your gestures, your costumes, your landscapes! Oh, how sad, how ruined, how unfulfilled you are! Ah, how you must have longed, in your secret thoughts, those thoughts hidden even from yourselves, for me to return. And look now — you still do not realize it."
He smiled benevolently down on them, standing near the entrance to his ship.
"But that realization shall dawn anon, be sure of that. You ask me to live in one of your houses — in a tomb, I say. And could I bear to leave my ship behind? My much-named ship, the Golden Hind? Or Firedrake call her, Virgin Flame — Pi-meson or the Magdelaine — sailing out of Carthage, Tyre, Old Bristol or Bombay: Captain Emmanuel Bloom, late of Jerusalem, founder of the Mayan faith, builder of pyramids, called Ra or Raleigh, dependent on your taste — Kubla Khan or Prester John, Baldur, Mithras, Zoroaster — the Sun's Fool, for I bring you Flame in which to drown! I am blooming Bloom, blunderer through the million planes — I am Bloom, the booming drum of destiny. I am Bloom — the Fireclown! Aha! Now you know me!"
The three faces stared blankly up.
He leaned with his hand against the entrance to the airlock, his head on his shoulder, his eye beady and intelligent. "Eh?"
Doctor Volospion remained uncharacteristically placatory. "Perhaps you could enlighten us over a meal? You must be hungry. We can offer the choicest foods to suit the most demanding of tastes. Please, Mr Bloom, I ask again that you reconsider…"
"No."
"You feel I have misinterpreted you, I know. But I am an earnest student. I remain a mite confused. Your penchant for metaphor…"
The Fireclown clapped a tiny hand to a tiny knee. He frowned at Doctor Volospion. "One metaphor is worth a million of your euphemisms, Doctor Volospion. I have problems to consider and must seek solitude. I have poetry to write — or to recall — I forget which — and need time for meditation. I should accept your invitation for it is my duty to broaden your mind — but that duty can wait."
He turned again to regard the woman.
"You'll join me now, Miss Ming?"
His huge blue eyes flashed suddenly with an intelligence, a humour, which shocked her completely from her hard-won composure.
"What?" The response was mindless.
He stretched out a hand. "Come with me now. I offer you pain and knowledge, lust and freedom. Hm?"
She began to rise, as if mesmerized. She seemed to be shivering. Then she sat down. "Certainly not!"
Emmanuel Bloom laughed. "You'll come." He returned his attention to Doctor Volospion. "And I would advise you, sir, to save your breath in this meaningless and puny Temptation. Your hatred of me is patent, whether you admit it to yourself or not. I would warn you to cease your irritation."
"You still refuse to believe my good faith, Mr Bloom. So be it." Doctor Volospion bowed low.
The ramp was withdrawn. The airlock shut.
No further sound escaped the ship.
8. In which Miss Ming begins to feel a certain curiosity concerning the intentions of Emmanuel Bloom
If anyone at the End of Time expected Mr Bloom to begin immediately to exercise his particular plans for bringing Salvation to the planet they were to be disappointed, for his extravagant spaceship (which the fashion of the moment declared to be in hideous taste) remained where it landed and Emmanuel Bloom, the Fireclown, did not re-emerge. A few sightseers came to view the ship — the usual sensation-seekers like the Duke of Queens (who wanted to put the ship at once into his collection of ancient flying machines), My Lady Charlotina of Below the Lake, O'Kala Incarnadine, Sweet Orb Mace, the Iron Orchid, Bishop Castle and their various followers, imitators and hangers-on — but in spite of all sorts of hallooings, bangings, catcalls, lettings-off of fireworks, obscene displays (on the part of the ladies who were curious to see what Miss Ming's most ardent suitor really looked like) and the rest, the great Saviour of Mankind refused to reveal himself; nothing occurred which could be interpreted as action on the Fireclown's part. No fires swept the Earth, no thunders or lightnings broke the calm of the skies, there was no destruction of artefacts nor any further demolition of landscapes. Indeed, it was singularly peaceful, even for the End of Time, and certain people became almost resentful of Mr Bloom's refusal to attempt, at least, a miracle or two.
"Doctor Volospion exaggerated!" pronounced My Lady Charlotina, all in blue and sage, the colours of dreams, as she lunched on a green and recently constructed hillside overlooking the ship (it now stood in clouds of daisies, a memento of the Duke of Queens' pastoral phase which had lasted scarcely the equivalent of an ancient Earth summer) and raised a turnip (another memento) to her ethereal lips. "You know his obsessions, my dear O'Kala. His taste for monks and gurus and the like."
O'Kala Incarnadine, currently a gigantic fieldmouse, nibbled at the lemon he held in both front paws. "I am not familiar with the creatures," he said.
"They are not creatures, exactly. They are a kind of person. Lord Jagged was good enough to inform me about them, although, of course, I have forgotten most of what he said. My point is, O'Kala, that Doctor Volospion wished this Mr Bloom to be like a guru and so interpreted his words accordingly."
"But Miss Ming confirmed…"
"Miss Ming!"
O'Kala shrugged his mousy shoulders in assent.
"Miss Ming's bias was blatant. Who could express such excessive ardour of anyone, let alone Miss Ming?" My Lady Charlotina wiped the white juice of the turnip from her chin.
"Jherek — he pursues his Amelia with much the same enthusiasm."
"Amelia is an Ideal — she is slender, beautiful, unattainable — everything an Ideal should be. There is nothing unseemly in Jherek's passion for such a woman." My Lady Charlotina was unaware of anything contradictory in her remarks. After her brief experience in the Dawn Age she had developed a taste for propriety which had not yet altogether vanished.
"In certain guises," timidly offered O'Kala, "I have lusted for Miss Ming myself, so…"
"That is quite different. But this Mr Bloom is a man."
"Abu Thaleb's tale was not dissimilar to Doctor Volospion's."
"Abu Thaleb is impressionable. On elephants he is unequalled, but he is no expert on prophets."
"Is anyone?"
"Lord Jagged. That is why Doctor Volospion apes him. You know of the great rivalry Volospion feels for Lord Jagged, surely? For some reason, he identifies with Jagged. Once he used to emulate him in everything, or sought to. Jagged showed no interest. Gave no praise. Since then — oh, so long ago my memory barely grants me the bones of it — Doctor Volospion has set himself up as a sort of contra-Jagged. There are rumours — no more than that, for you know how secretive Jagged can be — rumours of a sexual desire which flourished between them for a while, until Jagged tired of it. Now that Lord Jagged has disappeared, I suspect that Doctor Volospion would take his place in our society, for Jagged has the knack of making us all curious about his activities. You have my opinion in a nutshell — Volospion makes much of this Bloom in an effort to pique our interest, to gossip about him in lieu of Jagged."
O'Kala Incarnadine wiped his whiskers. "Then he has succeeded."
"For the moment, I grant you, but unsubtly. It will not last."
My Lady Charlotina sighed and sucked at a celery stalk, letting her gaze wander to the scarlet spaceship. "Our curiosity is still with Jagged. Where can he be? This," she indicated the vessel with her vegetable, "is no more than a diversion."
"It would be amusing, though, if Mr Bloom did begin to lay waste the world."
"There is no logic to it. The world will be finished soon enough, as everyone knows. The very universe in which our planet hangs is on the point of vanishing forever. Mr Bloom has brought his salvation at altogether the wrong moment and at a time when salvation itself is unfashionable, even as a topic of conversation."
"Doctor Volospion exaggerated!" pronounced My Lady Charlotina, all in blue and sage, the colours of dreams, as she lunched on a green and recently constructed hillside overlooking the ship (it now stood in clouds of daisies, a memento of the Duke of Queens' pastoral phase which had lasted scarcely the equivalent of an ancient Earth summer) and raised a turnip (another memento) to her ethereal lips. "You know his obsessions, my dear O'Kala. His taste for monks and gurus and the like."
O'Kala Incarnadine, currently a gigantic fieldmouse, nibbled at the lemon he held in both front paws. "I am not familiar with the creatures," he said.
"They are not creatures, exactly. They are a kind of person. Lord Jagged was good enough to inform me about them, although, of course, I have forgotten most of what he said. My point is, O'Kala, that Doctor Volospion wished this Mr Bloom to be like a guru and so interpreted his words accordingly."
"But Miss Ming confirmed…"
"Miss Ming!"
O'Kala shrugged his mousy shoulders in assent.
"Miss Ming's bias was blatant. Who could express such excessive ardour of anyone, let alone Miss Ming?" My Lady Charlotina wiped the white juice of the turnip from her chin.
"Jherek — he pursues his Amelia with much the same enthusiasm."
"Amelia is an Ideal — she is slender, beautiful, unattainable — everything an Ideal should be. There is nothing unseemly in Jherek's passion for such a woman." My Lady Charlotina was unaware of anything contradictory in her remarks. After her brief experience in the Dawn Age she had developed a taste for propriety which had not yet altogether vanished.
"In certain guises," timidly offered O'Kala, "I have lusted for Miss Ming myself, so…"
"That is quite different. But this Mr Bloom is a man."
"Abu Thaleb's tale was not dissimilar to Doctor Volospion's."
"Abu Thaleb is impressionable. On elephants he is unequalled, but he is no expert on prophets."
"Is anyone?"
"Lord Jagged. That is why Doctor Volospion apes him. You know of the great rivalry Volospion feels for Lord Jagged, surely? For some reason, he identifies with Jagged. Once he used to emulate him in everything, or sought to. Jagged showed no interest. Gave no praise. Since then — oh, so long ago my memory barely grants me the bones of it — Doctor Volospion has set himself up as a sort of contra-Jagged. There are rumours — no more than that, for you know how secretive Jagged can be — rumours of a sexual desire which flourished between them for a while, until Jagged tired of it. Now that Lord Jagged has disappeared, I suspect that Doctor Volospion would take his place in our society, for Jagged has the knack of making us all curious about his activities. You have my opinion in a nutshell — Volospion makes much of this Bloom in an effort to pique our interest, to gossip about him in lieu of Jagged."
O'Kala Incarnadine wiped his whiskers. "Then he has succeeded."
"For the moment, I grant you, but unsubtly. It will not last."
My Lady Charlotina sighed and sucked at a celery stalk, letting her gaze wander to the scarlet spaceship. "Our curiosity is still with Jagged. Where can he be? This," she indicated the vessel with her vegetable, "is no more than a diversion."
"It would be amusing, though, if Mr Bloom did begin to lay waste the world."
"There is no logic to it. The world will be finished soon enough, as everyone knows. The very universe in which our planet hangs is on the point of vanishing forever. Mr Bloom has brought his salvation at altogether the wrong moment and at a time when salvation itself is unfashionable, even as a topic of conversation."