"How are you, Lord Mongrove?" Jherek asked, staring up at the giant's lugubrious face.
"The worse for seeing you, Jherek Carnelian. I have not forgotten all the slights, you know."
"You would not be Mongrove if you had."
"The turning of my feet into rats. You were only a boy, then."
"Correct. The first slight." Jherek bowed.
"The theft of my private poems."
"True — and my publishing them."
"Just so." Mongrove nodded, continuing: "The shifting of my lair and its environs from the North to the South pole."
"You were confused."
"Confused and angry with you, Jherek Carnelian. The list is endless. I know that I am your butt, your fool, your plaything. I know what you think of me."
"I think well of you, Lord Mongrove."
"You know me for what I am. A monster. A horror. A thing which does not deserve to live. And I hate you for that, Jherek Carnelian."
"You love me for it, Mongrove. Admit it."
A deep sigh, almost a windy bellow, escaped the giant's lips and tears fell from his eyes as he turned away. "Do your worst, Jherek Carnelian. Do your worst to me."
"If you insist, my darling Mongrove."
Jherek smiled as he watched Mongrove plod deeper into the holocaust, his great shoulders slumped, his huge hands hanging heavily at his hips. Dressed all in black, was Mongrove, with his skin, hair and eyes stained black, too. Jherek wondered if he and Mongrove would ever consummate their love for each other. Perhaps Mongrove had learned the secret of "virtue"? Perhaps the giant deliberately sought the opposite of everything he really desired to think and do? Jherek felt he was beginning to understand. However, he didn't much like the idea of turning into another Mongrove. That would be an awful thing to do. It was the only thing which Mongrove would truly resent.
However, thought Jherek as he strolled on through the flames and the liquids, if he became Mongrove would not Mongrove then have an incentive to become something else? But would that new Mongrove be as delightful as the old? It was unlikely.
"Jherek, my delicious fancy! Here!"
Jherek turned with a crack of his russet cloak and saw Lord Jagged of Canaria, a mass of quilted yellow, his head barely visible in his puffy collar, signalling to be joined at a table of fruits.
"Lord Jagged." Jherek embraced his friend. "Well, cosy one, are your battles ended?"
"They are ended at last. It has been five years. But they are ended. And every little man dead, I fear." Lord Jagged had invented a perfect facsimile of the Solar System and had played out every war on it he had ever heard of. Each soldier had been complete in every detail, though of sub-microscopic proportions. A tiny personality. The entire set had been built in a cube measuring just over two feet square. Lord Jagged yawned and for a moment his face disappeared altogether into his collar. "Yes, I quite lost affection for them in the end. Silly things. And you, handsome Jherek, what do you do?"
"Nothing very ambitious. Reproductions of the ancient world. Have you seen my locomotive?"
"I don't even know the word!" Lord Jagged roared. "Shall I see it now?"
"It's over there, somewhere," said Jherek, pointing through a tumbling skyscraper. "It can wait until you are nearer."
"Your costume is admirable," said Lord Jagged, fingering the cloak. "I have always envied your taste, Jherek. Is this, too, something the ancients wore?"
"Exactly."
"Exactly! Oh, your patience! Your care! Your eye !"
Jherek stretched his arms and looked about him, pleased by the compliment. "It is fine," he said, "my eye."
"But where is our host, the magnificent Duke of Queens, the inventor of all this excitement?"
Jherek knew that Lord Jagged shared his view of the Duke's taste. He shook his head. "I haven't seen him. Perhaps in one of the other cities. Is there a main one?"
"I think not. It is possible, of course, that he has not yet arrived — or left already. You know how he loves to absent himself. Such a strong, dramatic sense."
"And droll," said Jherek, meeting his friend's eyes and smiling.
"Now, now," said Lord Jagged. "Let us, Jherek, circulate . Then, perhaps, we'll find our host and be able to compliment him to his face."
Arm in arm they moved through the blazing city, crossed the lawns and entered Timbuctoo, whose slender oblongs, crowned by minarets, fell in upon each other, criss-crossed, nearly struck the ground and then sprang upright again, to be consumed by the flames afresh.
"Chrome," Jherek heard Li Pao saying. "They were chrome. Not silver and quartz and gold at all. To me, I'm afraid, that spoils the whole idea."
Jherek chuckled. "Do you know Li Pao? I suspect that he did not travel willingly through time. I suspect, my padded Jagged, that his comrades sent him off! I am learning 'virtue,' by the way."
"And what is 'virtue'?"
"I think it involves being like Mongrove."
"Oh!" Lord Jagged rounded his lips in an ironic expression of dismay.
"I know. But you're familiar with my perfectionism."
"Of its kind it is the sweetest."
"I think you taught me that — when I was a boy."
"I remember! I remember!" Lord Jagged sighed reminiscently.
"And I am grateful."
"Nonsense. A boy needs a father. I was there." The puffed sleeve stretched out and a pale hand emerged to touch Jherek lightly upon his carnation, to pluck a tiny petal from it and touch it so elegantly to the pale lips. "I was there, my heart."
"One day," said Jherek, "we must make love, Lord Jagged."
"One day. When the mood comes upon us at the same time. Yes." Lord Jagged's lips smiled. "I look forward to it. And how is your mother?"
"She is sleeping a great deal again."
"Then we may expect something extraordinary from her soon."
"I think so. She is here."
Lord Jagged drew away from Jherek. "Then I shall look for her. Farewell."
"Goodbye, golden Lord Jagged."
Jherek watched his friend disappear through an archway of fire which was there for a moment before the towers reformed.
It was true that Lord Jagged of Canaria had helped form his taste and was, perhaps, the kindest, most affectionate person in all the world. Yet there was a certain sadness about him which Jherek could never understand. Lord Jagged, it was sometimes said, had not been created in this age at all, but had been a time-traveller. Jherek had once put this to Lord Jagged but had met with an amused denial. Yet still Jherek was not sure. He wondered why, if Jagged were a time-traveller, he would wish to make a secret of it.
Jherek realised that he was frowning. He rearranged his expression and sauntered on through Timbuctoo. How dull the 28th century must have been. Odd that things could change so swiftly in the course of a few hundred years so that a century like the 19th could be full of richness and a century like the 28th could only offer the Great Fire of Africa. Still, it was all a matter of what happened to amuse the individual. He really must try to be less critical of the Duke of Queens.
A pride of lions appeared and prowled menacingly around Jherek, growling and sniffing. They were real. He wondered if the Duke of Queens had gone so far as to allow them all their instincts. But they lost interest in him and swaggered on. Their colours, predominantly blue and green, clashed as usual. Elsewhere Jherek heard people giggling in fear as the lions found them. Most people found such sensations gratifying. He wondered if his pursuit of virtue was making him bad-tempered. If so, he would swiftly become a bore and had best abandon the whole idea. He saw Mistress Christia, the Everlasting Concubine, lying on her back near the edge of the burning city and humping up and down with glad cries as O'Kala Incarnadine, who had turned himself into a gorilla for the occasion, enjoyed her. She saw Jherek and waved. "Jherek!" she panted. "I — would — love — to — see — Oh, Kala, my love, that's enough. Do you mind? But I want to talk to Jherek now." The gorilla turned its head and saw Jherek and grinned at him.
"Hello, Jherek. I didn't realise," said O'Kala Incarnadine. He got up, smoothing down his fur. "Thank you, Mistress Christia."
"Thank you, O'Kala. That was lovely." She spoke vaguely as she concentrated on rearranging her skirts. "How are you, Jherek. Can I serve?"
"Always, as you know. But I would rather chat."
"So would I, to be frank. O'Kala has been a gorilla now for several weeks and I'm constantly bumping into him and I'm beginning to suspect that these meetings aren't accidental. Not that I mind, of course. But I'll admit that I'm thinking of going back to being a man again. And maybe a gorilla. Your mother was a gorilla for a while, wasn't she? How did she enjoy it?"
"I was too young to remember, Mistress Christia."
"Of course you were!" She looked him over. "A baby! I remember."
"You would, my delicacy."
"There is nothing to stop anyone becoming a child for a while. I wonder why more people don't do it?"
"The fashion never did catch on," Jherek agreed, seizing her about the waist and kissing her neck and shoulders. She kissed him back. She really was one of the most perfect identity-creations in the world. No man could resist her. Whatever he felt like he had to kiss her and often had to make love to her. Even Mongrove. Even Werther de Goethe who, as a boy, had never enjoyed her.
"Have you seen Werther de Goethe?" Jherek asked.
"He was here, earlier," said Mistress Christia looking about her. "I saw him with Mongrove. They do like one another's company, don't they?"
"Mongrove learns from Werther, I think," said Jherek. "And Werther says that Mongrove is the only sane person in the whole world."
"Perhaps it's true. What does 'sane' mean?"
"I shan't tell you. I've had enough of defining difficult words and ideas today."
"Oh, Jherek! What are you up to?"
"Very little. My interests have always tended towards the abstract. It makes me poor company and I am determined to improve."
"You're lovely company, Jherek. Everyone loves you."
"I know. And I intend to continue being loved. You know how tiresome I'd become — like Li Pao — if I did nothing but talk and invented little."
"Everyone loves Li Pao!"
"Of course. But I do not wish to be loved in the way Li Pao is loved."
She offered him a glance of secret amusement.
"Is that how I'm loved!" he asked in horror.
"Not quite. But you were a child, Jherek. The questions you asked!"
"I'm mortified." He was not. He realised that he did not really care. He laughed.
"You're right," she said. "Li Pao is a bore and even I find him tiresome occasionally. Have you heard that the Duke of Queens has a surprise for us?"
"Another."
"Jherek — you are not generous to the Duke of Queens. And that isn't fair, for the Duke is a very generous host."
"Yes, I know. What is the nature of this new surprise?"
"That, too, is a surprise." High above little African flying machines began to bomb the city. Bright lights burst everywhere and screamed as they burst. "Oh, that's how it started!" exclaimed Mistress Christia. "He's put it on again for the people who missed it." Mistress Christia could have been the only witness to the original display. She was always the first to arrive anywhere.
"Come on, Jherek. Everyone's to go to Wolverhampton. That's where we'll be shown the surprise."
"Very well." Jherek let her take his hand and lead him towards Wolverhampton, on the far side of the collection of cities.
And then suddenly all the flames went out and they were in complete darkness.
Silence fell.
"Delicious," whispered Mistress Christia, squeezing his hand.
Jherek closed his eyes.
3. A Visitor Who is Less than Entertaining
At last, after a longer pause than Jherek would have thought absolutely necessary, the voice of the Duke of Queens came to them through the darkness.
"Dear friends, you have doubtless already guessed that this party has a theme. That theme, needless to say, is 'Disaster."
A cool, soft voice said to Jherek: "It's interesting to compare this expression of the theme with that of the Earl of Carbolic who gave it to us two years ago."
Jherek smiled as he recognised Lord Jagged's voice. "Wait for the lights to go up," he said.
And then the lights did come on. They focused upon an odd, asymmetrical sort of mound which had been set on a dais of transparent steel. The mound seemed covered with a greenish-yellow mould. The mould pulsed. It made small squeaking sounds. It was less than charming.
"Well," whispered Lord Jagged, still in darkness, for only the mound itself was lit, "it certainly appears to fit the theme: what disaster could have caused that, I wonder!"
Mistress Christia squeezed Jherek's hand tighter and giggled. "One of the Duke's experiments gone wrong, I'd have thought. Or perhaps the Duke himself?"
"Ah," said Lord Jagged. "How intelligent you are, Mistress Christia. As well as desirable, of course."
The Duke of Queens, still unseen, continued with his introduction:
"This, my friends, is a spaceship. It landed near here a day or two ago."
Jherek was disappointed and he could tell from their silence that the rest of the guests were just as disappointed. It was not unusual for spaceships to come to the planet, although none had called here in the last few years, as he remembered.
"It has come the furthest of any spaceship ever to visit our old Earth," said the voice of the Duke of Queens. "It's travelled simply millions of light years to get here! Sensational in itself!"
This was still not good enough, thought Jherek, to make such a fuss about.
"Travelling at much the fastest speed of any spaceship to visit us before! Stupendous speed!" continued the Duke.
Jherek shrugged.
"Astounding," came Lord Jagged's dry voice from beside him. "A scientific lecture. The Duke of Queens is taking a leaf out of Li Pao's book. I suppose it makes a change. But somewhat out of character for our Duke, I'd have thought."
"Perhaps even he has tired of sensationalism for its own sake," said Jherek. "But a rather dramatic reaction, surely?"
"Ah, these problems of taste. They'll remain a subject of debate until every one of us decides to end his existence, I fear." Lord Jagged sighed.
"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
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."
