«That also is your privilege,» said Joe. «Protest all you like.»
He met Manaolo's dead black eyes and there seemed no human understanding behind them, no thought– only emotion and obstinate will.
There was movement behind; it was Priestess Elfane. She was presented to the company and without words she settled beside Hermina of Gil. The atmosphere now had changed and even though she but murmured pleasantries with Hermina her presence brought a piquancy, a sparkle, a spice...
Joe counted. Eight with himself–fourteen cabins–six passengers yet unaccounted for. One of the thirteen had tried to kill him–a Mang.
A pair of Druids issued from cabins two and three, and were introduced–elderly sheep-faced men en route to a mission on Ballenkarch. They carried with them a portable altar, which they immediately set up in a corner of the saloon, and began a series of silent rites before a small representation of the Tree. Manaolo watched them without interest a moment or two, then turned away.
Four, unaccounted for, thought Joe.
The steward announced the first meal of the day, and at this moment another couple appeared from their cabins, two Mangs in non-military attire–loose wrappings of colored silk, light cloaks, jeweled corselets. They bowed formally to the company and, since the steward was arranging the collapsible table, they took their places without introduction. Five Mangs, thought Joe. Two soldiers, two civilians, a woman. Two cabins still concealed their occupants.
Cabin No. 10 opened, and an aged woman of extreme height stepped slowly out on the balcony. She was bald as an egg and her head was flat on top. She had a great bony nose, black bulging eyes. She wore a black cape and on each finger of both hands was a tremendous jewel.
One more to go. The door to cabin No. 6 remained closed.
The meal was served from a menu surprisingly varied, to serve the palates of many races. Joe, in his planet-to-planet journey across the galaxy, perforce had dismissed all queasiness. He had eaten organic matter of every conceivable color, consistency, odor and flavor.
Familiar items he could put a name to–ferns, fruits, fungus, roots, reptiles, insects, fish, mollusks, slugs, eggs, spore-sacs, animals and birds–and at least as many objects he could neither define nor recognize and whose sole claim to his appetite lay in the example of others.
His place at the table was directly opposite Manaolo and Elfane. He noticed that they did not speak and several times he felt her eyes on him, puzzled, appraising, half-furtive.
After the meal the passengers separated. Manaolo retired to the gymnasium behind the saloon. The five Mangs sat down to a game played with small rods of different colors. The Cils went up to the promenade along the back rib of the ship. The tall demon-woman sat in a chair, gazing blankly into nothingness.
Joe would likewise have taken exercise in the gymnasium but the presence of Manaolo deterred him. He selected a film from the ship's library, prepared to return to his room.
Priestess Elfane said in a low voice, «Lord Smith, I wish to speak to you.» «Certainly.»
«Will you come to my room?»
Joe looked over his shoulder. «Won't your husband be annoyed?»
«Husband?» She managed to inject an enormous weight of contempt and angry disgust into her voice. «The relationship is purely nominal.» She stopped, looked away, apparently regretting her words. Then she continued in a cool voice, «I wish to speak to you.» She turned away, marched for her cabin.
Joe chuckled quietly. The vixen knew no other world than that in her own brain, had no conception that wills could exist in opposition to hers. Amusing now –but what a devil when she grew older! It occurred to Joe that it would be a pleasant experience to be lost with her on an uninhabited planet–taming her willfulness, opening up her consciousness.
He leisurely followed to her cabin. She sat on the bunk. He took a seat on the bench. «Well?»
«You say your home is the planet Earth-the mythical Earth. Is that true?»
«Yes, it's true.» «Where is Earth?»
«In toward the Center, perhaps a thousand light-years.»
«What is Earth like?» She leaned forward, elbow on her knee, chin on her hand, watching him with interested eyes.
Joe, suddenly flustered, shrugged. «You ask a question I can't answer in a word. Earth is a world of great age. Everywhere are ancient buildings, ancient cities, traditions. In Egypt stand the Great Pyramids, built by the first civilized men. In England a circle of chipped stones, Stonehenge, are replicas of a race almost as old. In the caves of France and Spain, far underground, are drawings of animals, scratched by men hardly removed from the beasts they hunted.»
She drew a deep breath. «But your cities, your civilization–are they different from ours?»
Joe put on a judicious expression. «Naturally they are different. No two planets are alike. Ours is an old stable culture–mellowed, kindly. Our races have merged– I am the result of their mingling. In these outer regions men have been blocked off and separated and have specialized once again. You Druids, who are very close to us physically, correspond to the ancient Caucasian race of the Mediterranean branch.»
«But do you have no Great God–no Tree of Life?»
«At present,» said Joe, «there is no organized religion on Earth. We are free to express our joy at being alive in any way which pleases us. Some revere a cosmic creator–others merely acknowledge the physical laws controlling the universe to almost the same result. The worship of fetishes, anthropoid, animal or vegetable–like your Tree–has long been extinct.»
She sat up sharply. «You–you deride our sacred institution.»
«Sorry.»
She rose to her feet, then sat down, swallowing her wrath. «You interest me in many ways,» she said sullenly, as if justifying her forbearance to herself. «I have the peculiar feeling that you are known to me.»
Joe, on a half-sadistic impulse, said, «I was your father's chauffeur. Yesterday you and your–husband were planning to kill me.»
She froze into unblinking rigidity, staring, mouth half-open. Then she relaxed, shuddered, shrank back. «You–are you–»
But Joe had caught sight of something behind her on a night-shelf over her bunk–a potted plant, almost identical with the one he had left on Kyril.
She saw the direction of his gaze. Her mouth came shut. She gasped, «You know then!» It was almost a whisper. «Kill me, destroy me, I am tired of life!»
She rose to her feet, arms out defenselessly. Joe arose, moved a step toward her. It was like a dream, a time past the edge of reason, without logic, cause, effect. Her eyes widened, not in fear now. He put his hands on her shoulders. She was warm and slender, pulsing like a bird.
She pulled away, sat back on her bed. «I don't understand,» she said in a husky voice. «I understand nothing.»
«Tell me,» said Joe in a voice almost as husky. «What is this Manaolo to you? Is he your lover?»
She said nothing; then at last gave her head a little shake. «No, he is nothing. He has been sent to Ballenkarch on a mission. I decided I wanted release from the rituals. I wanted adventure, and cared nothing for consequence. But Manaolo frightens me. He came to me yesterday–but I was afraid.»
Joe felt a wonderful yeastiness around his heart. The image of Margaret appeared, mouth puckered accusingly. Joe sighed regretfully. The mood changed. Elfane's face was once more that of a young Druid Priestess.
«What is your business, Smith?» she asked coolly. «Are you a spy?»
«No, I'm not a spy.»
«Then why do you go to Ballenkarch? Only spies and agents go to Ballenkarch. Druids and Mangs or their hirelings.»
«It is business of a personal nature.» Looking at her he reflected that this vivid Priestess Elfane had gaily suggested killing him only yesterday.
