“Why?” asked Mara.
Leep addressed her directly: “When my foolish disciples disappeared under the ice with the others, I had no one left to steal for me. You were the best artist in Fami, Mara, and I hoped you’d agree to steal for me. Senilde must have plenty of food in this house someplace.”
“Maybe, but we’ve not seen any of it,” said Mara. “And why should I steal for you? Why don’t you steal for yourself?”
“My talents are solely of the mind,” said Leep, sadly. “I live only to think. My ideal existence would be endless meditation. I’m quite unpractical, as you know. I shall starve to death unless somebody finds and gives me food.”
“What can you give in return?” asked George.
“The fruits of my knowledge. I was born with a gift for knowing things, a kind of second sight. It’s erratic, patchy. I can’t command it. Odd fragments drift into my mind as I meditate. Sometimes they’re useful to me, sometimes to others. Often they’re connected to nothing and of use to nobody. I can only accept what is vouchsafed me. Sometimes information is vague, like the location of this house—and no effort of mine will focus it.”
“So you’re a sensitive?” said George. “Your faculty is known on my planet. Some Earthlings possess it. It’s been verified by controlled experiments. But, as you say, it’s fitful.”
“You come from another planet? So much for my faculty—I wasn’t ever aware of that.”
George always warmed towards people who possessed the virtues of frankness and a sane humility. He found himself telling Leep about Earth and its people, about the journey to Venus, and what had happened since the landing. He concluded: “So, as Mara and I are in love, I want to take her back to Earth with me. Therefore I regret that you can’t have her for your personal ‘artist.’
I’ve a better suggestion. Come to Earth with us. Real, live Venusians are rare specimens. You would be a fine capture for me—but not a captive. Understand, you would be perfectly free to meditate or do as you wish. I promise you the terrestrials would make much of you, respect you, listen to you, and most certainly feed you.”
The old man pondered, then said: “There seems very little choice. I must go where the food is. Being hungry is terrible, and completely spoils my concentration.”
“Good,” said George. “Now listen, Leep. Hidden somewhere in this house is a room containing the master switches controlling the power behind this idiotic war. See if you can divine where it is, and then—”
He dropped his voice and broke off as Senilde came in. Senilde said, genially: “This telescope is a most intriguing toy, George. What can I trade you for it? Are you prepared to deal? Do you really need this girl Mara? There are other lovely girls still around on this planet, you know, and I could find you any number—”
“Shut up!” said George, savagely.
Mara pinched him hard. He looked at her inquiringly. Covertly, she went through the motion of turning a switch. He got it. He turned to Senilde, and said, curtly: “Switch off the war and you can have the telescope.”
“Is that all?”^ asked Senilde, eagerly. “Very well, that’s a bargain.”
“I want to make sure you keep your end of it,” said George. “I want to
“Of course,” said Senilde, off-handedly.
George rose from the couch. He was still holding a food bar. He proffered it to Senilde. “Here, I’ll throw this in, too.”
“What is it?”
“Food—good food.”
Senilde waved it aside. “I never eat. Haven’t eaten for thousands of years. I don’t have to. Bodily immortality changes one’s metabolism completely. I drew sufficient nourishment from my environment, without recourse to that rather disgusting—if you’ll forgive me— procedure.”
Leep sat up straight, his ears pricking up like an animal’s. George, misreading the reaction, tossed him the food bar, and remarked to Senilde:
“Well, aren’t you the lucky man! Now let’s climb those awful stairs.”
Mara joined them. George asked: “Coming, Leep?”
