Dancers at the End of Time (61 page)

"They wanted to loot and rape everything first," Jherek explained. "But then the Pweelians stopped them. The Pweelians seem to take pleasure in stopping almost everyone from doing almost everything!

This is their hour of triumph, I suppose. They have waited for it for a long time, of course, so it seems niggardly to criticize…"

"You mean there is still another race of space-travellers in the city?" Captain Bastable asked.

"Yes. The Pweelians, as I said. They have some sort of plan for survival. But I did not find it agreeable. The Duke of Queens…"

"He is here!" Mrs. Persson brightened. Captain Bastable frowned a little circumspectly to himself.

"You know the Duke?"

"Oh, we are old friends."

"And Lord Mongrove?"

"I have heard of him," said Mrs. Persson, "but I have never had the pleasure of meeting him.

However, if there is an opportunity…"

"I should be delighted to introduce you. Always assuming that this little oasis, as Mongrove called it, doesn't disintegrate before I have the chance."

"Mr. Carnelian!" Amelia tugged at his sleeve. "I would remind you that this is no time for social chat.

We must attempt to prevail upon these people to rescue as many of those here as is possible!"

"I was forgetting. It is so nice to know that Mrs. Persson is a friend of the Duke of Queens. Do you not think, dearest Amelia, that we should try to find him. He would be glad to resume the acquaintance, I am sure!"

Mrs. Amelia Underwood shrugged her beautiful shoulders and sighed a really rather shallow sigh.

She was beginning to lose interest, it seemed, in the whole business.

Becoming aware of Amelia's displeasure, and seeking to respond to events as she wished, Jherek recalled some Wheldrake.

Thus is the close upon us

(Corpse calls to corpse and chain echoes chain).

Now the bold paint flakes upon the cheek

(And our pain lends point to pain).

Now there are none among us

Need seek for Death's domain…

Captain Bastable joined in the last line, looking for approval not to Jherek but to Mrs. Underwood.

"Ah, Wheldrake," he began, "ever apt…"

"Oh, bother Wheldrake!" said Mrs. Underwood, and she stalked off in the direction from which she and Jherek had originally come, but she paused suddenly as a cheerful voice called out:

"There you are, Amelia! Sergeant Sherwood and I were just on the point of Woman's contribution to Sin. It would be worth having any comments, from the horse's mouth, as you might say."

"And damn you, Harold!"

She gasped at her own language. Then she grinned. "Oh, dear…"

If Harold had noticed he doubtless accepted her oath as further evidence of their situation. He smiled vaguely at her. "Well, perhaps later…" His pince-nez glittered so that his eye-sockets appeared to contain flame. Chatting, he and the police sergeant strolled on.

Jherek caught up with her. "I have offended you, my dear. I thought…"

"Perhaps I, too, am mad," she told him. "Since nobody else is taking the end of the world seriously, then it is evident that I should not, either." But she was not convinced.

"Yusharisp and the Pweelians take it seriously, dearest Amelia. And Lord Mongrove. But it seems to me that you have no real leaning in their direction."

"I do what I think is right."

"Yet it conflicts with your temperament, you would admit?"

"Oh, this is unfair!" She paced on. Now they could see the Pweelian spacecraft where they had left it. Inspector Springer and the Duke of Queens held their hands in the air.

Standing on three legs, Yusharisp, or one of his comrades, held an object in his fourth foot (or hand) with which he menaced Inspector Springer and the Duke of Queens.

"My goodness!" Amelia hesitated. "They are using force! Who would have suspected it?"

Lord Mongrove seemed put out by the turn of events. He stood to one side, muttering to himself. "I am not sure. I am not sure."

"We have decided (skree) to act for your own (roar) good," Yusharisp told the two men. "The others will be rounded up in time. Now, if you will kindly, for the moment, board the spaceship…"

"Put that gun away!" The ringing command issued from the lips of Amelia Underwood. Even she seemed surprised by it. "Does the end of the world mean the end of the Rule of Law? What point is there in perpetuating intelligent life if violence is to be the method by which we survive? Are we not above the beasts?"

"I think (skree) madam that you (yelp) fail to understand the urgency (skree) of the situation (roar)."

Yusharisp was embarrassed. The weapon wavered. Seeing this the Duke of Queens immediately lowered his hands.

"We (skrrreee) did not intend to continue to threaten anyone (roar) after (yelp) the immediate danger was (skree) avoided," said another Pweelian, probably CPS Shushurup. "It is not in (skree) our nature to approve of (skree) violence or (roar) threats."

"You have been threatening everyone since you arrived!" she told them. "Bullying us not, until now, with weapons, but with moral arguments which begin to seem increasingly specious to me and which have never convinced the denizens of this world (it is not mine, I might add, and I do not approve of their behaviour any more than do you), Now you give us evidence of the weakness of your arguments — you bring forth your guns and your bald threats of violence!"

"It is not (skree) anything like so (roar) simple, madam. It is a question of (yelp) survive or die…"

"It seems to me," she said calmly, "that it is you who simplify, Mr. Yusharisp."

Jherek looked admiringly on. As usual, the arguments were inclined to confuse him, but he thought Amelia's assumption of authority was magnificent.

"I would suggest," she continued, "that you leave these people to their own solutions to their problems, and that you do, for yourselves, whatever you think best."

"Lord Mongrove (yelp) invited our (skree) help," said CPS Shushurup in an aggrieved whine. "Do not listen (skree) to her (yelp), Yusharisp. We must continue (roar) with our work!"

The limb holding the gun became steadier. Slowly, the Duke of Queens raised his hands, but he winked at Jherek Carnelian.

Lord Mongrove's gloomy boom interrupted the dispute. "I have, I must admit, Yusharisp, been having second thoughts…"

" 
Second thoughts!
 " Yusharisp was beside himself. "At this (skree) stage!"

The little alien gestured with his weapon. "Look (skree) out there at that — that (roar) nothingness.

Can you not feel (yelp) the city breaking apart? Lord Mongrove, of all (skree) people, I would have thought that you (roar) could not change your mind. Why (skree) — why?"

The giant shuffled his feet in the rust and the dust. He scratched his huge head. He fingered the collar of his robe of funereal purple. "As a matter of fact, Yusharisp, I, too, am becoming just a jot bored with this — um — drama."

"Drama! Skrrreeeee! It is not a game (yelp) Lord Mongrove. You, yourself, said as (skree) much!"

"Well, no…"

"There, you see, Sergeant Sherwood. It cannot be argued any longer, I think, that there are no devils in Hell. Look at those chaps there. Devils, if ever I saw some!" It was Harold Underwood, emerging from behind the Pweelian's spaceship. "So much for the sceptics, eh? So much for the Darwinians, hm? So much, Sergeant Sherwood, for your much vaunted Science! Ha!" He approached Yusharisp with some curiosity. He inspected him through his pince-nez. "What a distortion of the human body — revealing, of course, the distortion of the spirit within." He straightened up, linking arms, again, with his disciple. "With luck, Sergeant Sherwood, we shall soon get a look at the Arch Fiend Himself!"

Nodding to those of the company he recognized, Harold Underwood wandered off again.

Mrs. Underwood watched her husband disappear. "I must say, I have never known him so agreeable. What a shame he could not have been brought here before."

"I wash my (skree) feet of you all!" said Yusharisp. He appeared to be sulking as he went to lean against the noxious side of his spaceship. "Most of them have run away, already."

"Shall we lower our hands?" asked the Duke of Queens.

"Do what you (skree) like…"

"I wonder if my men 'ave caught them Latvians yet," said Inspector Springer. "Not, I suppose, that it matters a lot now. On the other 'and, I 'ate to leave things unfinished. Know what I mean, Duke?" He looked at his watch.

"Oh, I do, very much, Inspector Springer. I had plans for a party that would have made all other parties seem drab, and I was about to embark on my new project — a life-size reproduction of the ancient planet, Mars, complete with reproductions of all its major cities, and a selection of different cultures from its history. But with things as they are…" He contemplated the blackness of infinity beyond the city, he contemplated the ruin within. "There aren't the materials any longer, I suppose."

"Or the means," Mongrove reminded him. "Are you sure, Duke, that you don't want to take part in this Salvation scheme?"

The Duke sat down upon a half-melted metal cube. "It doesn't have much to recommend it, dear Mongrove. And one cannot help feeling, well, interfered with…"

The cube on which he sat began to grumble. Apologetically he stood up.

"It is Fate which interferes with your useless idyll!" said Yusharisp, in some exasperation. "Not (skree) the people of Pweeli. We acted (roar) from the noblest of motives."

Once more losing interest in the conversation, Jherek made to lead Amelia away. She resisted his tugging hand for only a moment before going with him.

"The time-travellers and the space-travellers do not, as yet, seem to be aware of one another's presence," she said. "Should we tell them? After all, only a few yards separate them!"

"Let us leave them all, Amelia. Initially we sought privacy."

Her expression softened. She moved closer to him. "Of course, dear Jherek."

He swelled with pleasure.

"It will be so sad," she said a little later, in a melancholy tone, "to die, when we have at last both admitted our feelings."

"To die, Amelia?"

Something like a dead tree, but made of soft stone, started to flicker. A screen appeared in its trunk. The image of a man began to speak, but there was no sound. They watched it for a little while before continuing.

"To die?" he said.

"Well, we must accept the inevitable, Jherek."

"To be called by my first name! You do not know, Amelia, how happy you make me!"

"There seemed no further point in refusing you the true expression of my feelings, since we have such a short time together."

"We have eternity!"

"In one sense, possibly. But all are agreed that the city must soon perish."

As if to deny her words, a steady throbbing began to pulse beneath their feet. It had strength and signified the presence of considerable energy, while the glow from the surrounding ruins suddenly took on a healthier colour, a sort of bright blue.

"There! The city recovers!" Jherek exclaimed.

"No. Merely the appearance of recovery which always precedes death."

"What is that golden light over there?" He pointed beyond a line of still rotating cylinders. "It is like sunshine, Amelia!"

They began to run towards the source of the light. Soon they could see clearly what lay ahead.

"The city's last illusion," said Jherek. They were both overawed, for the vision was so simple yet so much at odds with its surroundings. It was a little grassy glade, full of wild flowers, warm and lovely in the sun, covering a space of only thirty feet or so, yet perfect in every detail, with butterflies, bees, and a bird perching in a delicate elm. They could hear the bird singing. They could smell the grass.

Hand in hand, they stepped into the illusion.

"It is as if the city's memory conjures up a final image of Earth at her loveliest," said Amelia. "A sort of monument."

They seated themselves on a hillock. The ruins and the livid lights were still plainly visible, but they were able to ignore them.

Mrs. Underwood pointed a little way ahead to where a red and white chequered cloth had been spread on the grass, under the tree. On the cloth were plates, flasks, fruits, a pie. "Should we see if the picnic is edible?"

"In a moment." He leaned back and breathed the air. Perhaps the scent of hyacinths he had detected earlier had come from here.

"It cannot last," she reminded him. "We should take advantage of it while we may." She stretched herself, so that her head lay in his lap. He stroked her hair and her cheek. He stroked her neck. She breathed deeply and luxuriously, her eyes closed as she listened to the insects, feeling the warmth of that invisible, non-existent sun upon her skin. "Oh, Jherek…"

"Amelia." He bent his head and kissed her tenderly upon the lips for the second time since they had come to the city, and without hesitation she responded, and his touch upon her bared shoulder, her waist, only made her cling to him the closer and kiss him more deeply.

"I am like a young girl," she said, after a while. "It is as it should have been."

He was baffled by this reference, but he did not question her. He merely said: "Now that you have called me by my first name, Amelia, does that mean that we are married, that we can…"

She shook her head sadly. "We can never — never be husband and wife. Not now."

"No?"

"No, Jherek, dear. It is too late for that."

"I see." Wistfully, he pulled up a blade of grass.

"The divorce, you see, has not taken place. And no ceremony binds us. Oh, there is much I could explain, but let us not waste the minutes we have."

"These — these conventions. They are important enough to deny us the expression of our love?"

"Oh, do not mistake me, my dear. I know now that those conventions are not universal — that they have no usefulness here — but you forget — for years I have obeyed them. I cannot, in my own self, rebel against them in so short a time. As it is, I quell a tide of guilt that threatens to flood through me."