Dancers at the End of Time (51 page)

"Compliments are the colour of our conversation, dear Mrs. Underwood. We are fulfilled by flattery; we feed on praise; we spend our days in search of the perfect peal of persiflage that will make the peacock in us preen and say 'Behold — I beautify the world!' In short, exquisite butterfly in blue, you may so compliment me and already do. May I in turn honour your appearance; it has detail which, sadly, few of us can match. It does not merely attract the eye — it holds it. It is the finest creation here.

Henceforth there is no question but that you shall lead us all in fashion. Jherek is toppled from his place!"

She lifted an appreciative eyebrow; his bow was sweeping and all but lost him his hat, while his head virtually disappeared from view for a moment. He straightened, saw a friend, bowed again, and drifted away. "Later," he said to them both, "we must reminisce."

Jherek saw amusement in her eyes as she watched Bishop Castle rise to a nearby gallery. "He is a voluble cleric," she said. "We have bishops not unlike him in 1896."

"You must tell him, Amelia. What greater compliment could you pay?"

"It did not occur to me." She hesitated, her self-assurance gone for a second: "You do not find me callow?"

"Ha! You rule here already. Your good opinion is in demand. You have the authority both of bearing and of background. Bishop Castle spoke nothing but the truth. Your praise warmed him."

He was about to escort her higher when the Duke of Queens, who had been in conversation with Mistress Christia, turned back to them. "Have you been long returned, Jherek and Amelia, to the End of Time?"

"Hardly a matter of hours," said she.

"So you remained behind in 1986. You can tell us what became of Jagged?"

"Then he is not yet back?" She glanced to Jherek with some alarm. "We heard…"

"You did not meet him again in 1896? I assumed that was his destination." The Duke of Queens frowned.

"He could be there," said Jherek, "for we have been adventuring elsewhere. At the very Beginning of Time, in fact."

"Lord Jagged of Canaria conceals himself increasingly," complained the Duke, brushing at a braid.

"When challenged, he proves himself a master of sophistry. His mysteries cease to entertain because he confuses them so."

"It is possible," said Amelia Underwood, "that he has become lost in Time; that he did not plan this disappearance. If we had not been fortunate, we should still be stranded now."

The Duke of Queens was embarrassed by his own pettishness. "Of course. Oh, dear — Time has become such a talking point and it is not one, I fear, which interests me greatly. I have never had Lord Jagged's penchant for the abstract. You know what a bore I can be."

"Never that," said Jherek affectionately. "And even your vulgarities are splendid."

"I hope so," he said with modesty. "I do my best. You like the building, Jherek?"

"It is a masterpiece."

"More restrained than usual?"

"Much."

The Duke's eye brightened. "What an arbiter we make of you, Jherek! It is only because of your past innovations, or because we respect your experience, too?"

Jherek shrugged. "I have not considered it. But Bishop Castle claims that art has a fresh leader." He bowed to his Amelia.

"You like my Royal Scotland Yard, Mrs. Underwood?" The Duke was eager.

"I am most impressed, Duke of Queens." She appeared to be relishing her new position.

He was satisfied. "But what is this concerning the Beginning of Time? Shall you bring us more ideas, scarcely before we can assimilate the old ones?"

"Perhaps," said Jherek. "Molluscs, you know. And ferns. Rocks. Hampers. Water-scorpions. Time Centres. Yes, there would be enough for a modest entertainment of some sort."

"You have tales for us, too!" Mistress Christia had returned. "Adventures, eh?"

Now more of the guests had sighted them and began to drift towards them.

"I think some, at least, will amuse you," said Amelia Underwood. Jherek detected a harder edge to her voice as she prepared to face the advancing crowd, but she had lost that quality when she next spoke. "We found many surprises there."

"Oh, this is delightful!" cried Mistress Christia. "What an enviable pair you are!"

"And brave, too, to risk the snares and vengeances of Time," said the Duke of Queens.

Gaf the Horse in Tears, a Gibson Girl to the life, a Sailor hat upon his up-pinned hair, leaned forward. "Brannart told us you were doomed, gone forever. Destroyed, even."

Sharp-featured Doctor Volospion, in a black, swirling cape and a black, wide-brimmed hat, his eyes glittering from the shadows of his face, said softly: "We did not believe him, of course."

"Yet our time-travellers disappear — vanishing from our menageries at an astonishing rate. I lost four Adolf Hitlers alone, just recently." Sweet Orb Mace was splendid in rubashka, tarboosh, pantaloons and high, embroidered boots. "And one of them, I'm sure, was real. Though rather old, admittedly…"

"Brannart claims these disappearances as proof that Time is ruptured." Werther de Goethe, a saturnine Sicilian brigand, complete with curling moustachios which rather contradicted the rest of the impression, adjusted his cloak. "He warns that we stand upon a brink, that we shall all, soon, plunge willy-nilly into disordered chronological gulfs."

There was a pause in the babble, for Werther's glum drone frequently had this effect, until Amelia said:

"His warnings have some substance, it would seem."

"What?" The Duke of Queens laughed heartily. "You are living denials of the Morphail Effect!"

"I think not." She was modest, looked to Jherek to speak, but he gave her the floor. "As I understand it, Brannart Morphail's explanations are only partial. They are not false. Many theories describe Time — and all are provable."

"An excellent summary," said Jherek. "My Amelia relates what we have learned, darling of Dukes, at the Beginning of Time. More scientists than Brannart concern themselves with investigating Time's nature. I think he will be glad of the information I bring. He is not alone in his researches, he'll be pleased to know."

"You are certain of it?" asked Amelia, who had flickered an eye at his recent "my" (though without apparent displeasure).

"Why should he not be?"

She shrugged. "I have only encountered the gentleman in dramatic circumstances, of course…"

"He is due?" asked Jherek of the Duke.

"Invited — as is the world. You know him. He will come late, claiming we force him against his will."

"Then he might know the whereabouts of Jagged." He appraised the hall, as if mention of the name would invoke the one he most wished to see. Many he recognized, not famous for their gregariousness, were here, even Lord Shark (or one of his automata, sent in his place) who styled himself "The Unknown"; even Werther de Goethe, who had sworn never to attend another party. Yet, so far, that last member of the End of Time's misanthropic triumvirate, Lord Mongrove, the bitter giant, in whose honour this celebration was being held, was not in evidence.

Her arm was still in his. A touch drew his attention. "You are concerned for Jagged's safety?" she asked.

"He is my closest friend, devious though he seems. Could he not have suffered our fate? More drastically?"

"If so, we shall never know."

He drove this worry from his mind; it was not his business, as a guest, to brood. "Look," he said, "there is My Lady Charlotina!"

She had seen them, from above, and now flew to greet them, her golden robe-de-style, with its crystal beads, its ribbons and its roses, fluttering with the speed of her descent.

"Our hero and heroine happily restored to us. Is this the final scene? Are sleigh-bells to ring, blue-bloods to sing, catharsis achieved, tranquillity regained? I have missed so much of the plot. Refresh me — regale us all. Oh, speak, my beauties. Or are we to witness a re-enactment?"

Mrs. Underwood was dry. "The tale is not yet finished, I regret, My Lady Charlotina. Many clues remain to be unravelled — threads are still to be woven together — there is no clearly seen pattern upon the fabric — and perhaps there never will be."

My Lady Charlotina's disbelieving laughter held no rancour. "Nonsense — it is your duty to bring about resolution soon. It is cruel of you both to keep us in such suspense. If your timing is not exact, you will lose your audience, my dears. First there will be criticism of fine points, and then — you could not risk this — uninterest. But you must bring me up to date, before I judge. Give me merely the barest details, if that is what you wish, and let gossip colour the tale for you."

Smiling broadly, Amelia Underwood began to tell of their adventures at the Beginning of Time.

Jherek still sought for Jagged. Leaving Amelia to spin a yarn untangled by his interruptions, he drifted a good distance roofward, until his love and the circle surrounding her were a pattern of dots below.

Jagged alone could help him now, thought Jherek. He had returned expecting revelation. If Jagged had been playing a joke on them, then the joke should be made clear; if he manipulated a story for the world's entertainment — then the world, as My Lady Charlotina had said, was entitled to a resolution.

The play continued, it seemed, though the author had been unable to write the final scenes. He recalled, with a trace of rancour, that Jagged had encouraged him to begin this melodrama (or was it a farce and he a sad fool in the eyes of all the world? Or tragedy, perhaps?) and Jagged therefore should provide help. Yet if Jagged were vanished forever, what then?

"Why," said Jherek to himself, "I shall have to complete the play as best I can. I shall prove that I am no mere actor, following a road laid by another. I shall show I am a playwright, too!"

Li Pao, from the twenty-seventh century, had overheard him. Insistently clad in blue overalls, the ex-member of the People's Governing Committee, touched Jherek to make him turn.

"You consider yourself an actor in a play, Jherek Carnelian?"

"Hello, Li Pao. I spoke confused thoughts aloud, that is all."

But Li Pao was greedy for a discussion and would not be guided away from the subject. "I thought you controlled your own fate. This whole love-story business, which so excites the woman, did it not begin as an affectation?"

"I forget." He spoke the truth. Emotions jostled within him, each in conflict with the other, each eager for a voice. He let none speak.

"Surely," Li Pao smiled, "you have not come to believe in your role, as the ancient actors were said to do, and think your character's feelings are your own? That would be most droll." Li Pao leaned against the rail of his drifting gallery. It tilted slightly and began to sink. He brought it back until he was again level with Jherek.

"However, it seems likely," Jherek told him.

"Beware, Jherek Carnelian. Life becomes serious for you. That would never do. You are a member of a perfectly amoral society: whimsical, all but thoughtless, utterly powerful. Your actions threaten your way of life. Do I see a ramshackle vessel called Self-Destruction heaving its battered bulwarks over the horizon? What's this, Jherek? Is your love genuine, after all?"

"It is, Li Pao. Mock me, if you choose, but I'll not deny there's truth in what you say. You think I conspire against my own peace of mind?"

"You conspire against your entire society. What your fellows could see as your morbid interest in morality actually threatens the status quo — a status quo that has existed for at least a million years, in this form alone! Would you have all your friends as miserably self-conscious as me?" Li Pao was laughing. His lovely yellow face shone like a small sun. "You know my disapproval of your world and its pleasures."

"You have bored me often enough…" Jherek was amiable.

"I admit that I should be sad to see it destroyed. It is reminiscent of that Nursery you discovered, before you disappeared. I should hate to see these children face to face with reality."

"All this —" the sweep of an arm — "is not 'reality'?"

"Illusion, every scrap. What would happen to you all if your cities were to close down in an instant, if your heat and your light — the simplest of animal needs — were taken from you? What would you do?"

Jherek could see little point in the question. "Shiver and stumble," he said, "until death came. Why do you ask?"

"You are not frightened by the prospect?"

"It is no more real than anything else I experience or expect to experience. I would not say that it is the most agreeable fate. I should try to avoid it, of course. But if it became inevitable, I hope I should perish with good grace."

Li Pao shook his head, amused. "You are incorrigible. I hoped to convince you, now that you, of all here, have rediscovered your humanity. Yet perhaps fear is no good thing. Perhaps it is only we, the fearful, who attempt to instil our own sense of urgency into others, who avoid reality, who deceive others into believing that only conflict and unhappiness lead us to the truth."

"It is a view expressed even at the End of Time, Li Pao." The Iron Orchid joined them, sporting an oddly wrought garment, stiff and metallic and giving off a glow; it framed her face and her body, which was naked and of a conventional, female shape. "You hear it from Werther de Goethe. From Lord Shark. And, of course, from Mongrove himself."

"They are perverse. They adopt such attitudes merely to provide contrast."

"And you, Li Pao?" asked Jherek. "Why do you adopt them?"

"They were instilled into me as a child. I am conditioned, if you like, to make the associations you describe."

"No instincts guide you, then?" asked the Iron Orchid. She laid a languid arm across her son's shoulders. Apparently absent-minded, she stroked his cheek.

"You speak of instincts? You have none, save the seeking of pleasure." The little Chinese shrugged.

"You have need of none, it could be said."

"You do not answer her question." Jherek Carnelian found himself a fraction discomfited by his mother's attentions. His eyes sought for Amelia, but she was not in sight.