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Authors: Michael Moorcock

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BOOK: Dancers at the End of Time
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"They had primitive time machines in those days," Jherek said. "There are many references to them in the literature."

"Possibly, but 
we
 have never encountered another from her period. How she got here at all remains a mystery."

"Some other time traveller brought her, perhaps?" Jherek was tentative, glad, at last, to have Brannart's ear. Privately, he thanked Lord Jagged for making it possible. "She once mentioned a hooded figure who came into her room shortly before she found herself in our Age."

"Yet," said Morphail agitatedly, "I have told you repeatedly that I have no record of a time machine materializing during the phase in which you claim she arrived. Since I last spoke with you, Jherek, I checked carefully. You are in error — or she lied to you…"

"She cannot lie to me, as I cannot to her," said Jherek simply. "We are in love, you see."

"Yes, yes! Play whatever games amuse you, Jherek. Carnelian, but not at the expense of Brannart Morphail."

"Ah, my wrinkled wonder-worker can you not bring yourself to display a little more generosity towards our venturesome Jherek? Who else among us would dare the descent into Dawn Age emotions?"

"I would," said Werther de Goethe, no longer in the distance. "And with a better understanding of what I was doing, I would hope."

"But your moods are dark moods, Werther," said Lord Jagged kindly. "They do not entertain as much as Jherek's!"

"I do not care what the majority thinks," Werther told him. "A more select group of people, I am told, think rather more of my explorations. Jherek has hardly touched on 'sin' at all!"

"I could not understand it, vainglorious Werther, even when you explained it," Jherek apologized. "I have tried, particularly since it is an idea which my Mrs. Underwood shared with you."

"Tried," said Werther contemptuously, "and failed. I have not. Ask Mistress Christia."

"She told me. I was very admiring. She will confirm —"

"Did you envy me?" A light of hope brightened Werther's doomy eye.

"Of course I did."

Werther smiled. He sighed with satisfaction. Magnanimously he laid a hand upon Jherek's arm.

"Come to my tower some day. I will try to help you understand the nature of sin."

"You are kind, Werther."

"I seek only to enlighten, Jherek."

"You will find it difficult, that particular task," said Brannart Morphail spitefully. "Improve his manners, Werther, and I, for one, will be eternally grateful to you."

Jherek laughed. "Brannart, are you not in danger of taking your 'anger' too far?" He made a movement towards the scientist, who raised a six-fingered hand.

"No further petitions, please. Find your own time machine, if you want one. Persist in the delusion that your Dawn Age woman will return, if you wish. But do not, I beg you Jherek, involve me any further.

Your ignorance is irritating and since you refuse the truth, then I'll have no more of you. I have my work."

He paused. "If, of course, you were to bring me back the time machine you lost, then I might spare you a few moments." And, chuckling, he began to return to his laboratories.

"He is wrong in one thing," Jherek murmured to Lord Jagged, "for they did have time machines in 1896, as you know. It was upon your instructions that I was placed in one and returned here."

"Ah," said Lord Jagged, studying the cloth of his sleeve. "So you said before."

"I am disconsolate," said Jherek, suddenly. "You give me no direct answers (it is your right, of course) and Brannart refuses his help. What am I to do, Jagged?"

"Take pleasure in the experience, surely?"

"I seem to tire so easily of my pleasures, these days. And when it comes to ways of enjoying current experiences, my imagination flags, my brain betrays me."

"Could your adventures in the past have tired you more than you realize?"

"I am certain it was you, Jagged, in 1896. It has occurred to me that even you are not aware of it!"

"Oh, Jherek, my jackanapes, what juicy abstractions you hint at! How close we are in temperament. You must expand upon your theories. Unconscious temporal adventurings!" Lord Jagged took Jherek's arm and led him back to where the main party had gathered.

"I base my idea," began Jherek, "on the understanding that you and I are good friends and that therefore you would not deliberately —"

"Later. I will listen later, my love, when our duties as guests are done."

And again Jherek Carnelian was left wondering if Lord Jagged of Canaria were not, under his worldly airs, quite as confused as himself.

Bishop Castle had arrived late. He made a splendid entrance, in his huge headdress twice as tall as himself and modelled on a stone tower of the Dawn Age. He had great, bushy red brows and long fine hair to match; it framed his saturnine features and fell to his chest. He wore robes of gold and silver and held the huge ornamental gearstick of some 21st-century religious order. He bowed to My Lady Charlotina.

"I left my contribution overhead, most handsome of hostesses. There were no others there, merely some flotsam on the surface. Am I to assume that I have missed the regatta?"

"You must, I am afraid." My Lady Charlotina came towards him and took his long hand. "But you shall have some of our naval fare." She drew him towards the barrels of rum. "Hot or cold?" she asked.

As Bishop Castle sipped the rum My Lady Charlotina described the battles which had taken place that day on Lake Billy the Kid. "And the way in which Lady Voiceless's 
Bismarck
 sank my 
Queen
 
Elizabeth
 was ingenious, to say the least."

"Scuppered below decks!" said Sweet Orb Mace with a relish for words which were meaningless to her. "Hoisted by her holds. Spliced in her mainbrace! Belayed across the bows!" Her bright yellow, furry face became animated. "Rammed," she added, "under the water-line."

"Yes, dear. Your knowledge of nautical niceties is admirable."

"Admiral!" giggled Sweet Orb Mace.

"Try a little less of the rum and a little more of the hard tack, dear," suggested My Lady Charlotina, leading Bishop Castle to her hammock. Not without difficulty, he seated himself beside her (his hat was inclined to topple him over if he were not singularly careful). Bishop Castle noticed Jherek and waved his gearstick in a friendly greeting.

"Still pursuing your love, Jherek?"

"As best I can, mightiest of mitres." Jherek left Lord Jagged's side. "How are your giant owls?"

"Disseminated, I regret to say. I had it in mind to make a Vatican City in the same period as your London — I am a slave to fashion, as you know — but the only references I could find placed it on Mars about a thousand years later, so I must assume that it was not contemporary. A shame. A Hollywood I began came to nothing, so I gave up my efforts to emulate you. But when you are leaving, take a look at my ship. I hope you will approve of my careful research."

"What is it called?"

"The 
Mae West
," said Bishop Castle. "You know it, I assume."

"I do not! That makes it even more interesting."

The Iron Orchid joined them, her features almost invisible in their glaring whiteness. "We were considering a picnic in the Warm Snow Peaks, Charlotina. Would you care to come?"

"An exquisite idea! Of course I shall come. I think we have had the best of this entertainment now.

And you, Jherek, will you go?"

"I think so. Unless Lord Jagged…" He turned to look for his friend, but Jagged had disappeared.

He shrugged, reconciling himself. "I would love it. It's ages since I visited the peaks. I had no notion that they still existed."

"Weren't they something Mongrove made, in a lighter vein than usual?" Bishop Castle asked. "Has anyone heard from Mongrove, by the by?"

"Not since he rushed off into space with Yusharisp," the Iron Orchid told him, glancing about the hall. "Where is the Duke of Queens? I had hoped he would wish to come with us."

"One of his time travellers — he calls them 'retainers', I understand — came to him with a message.

The message animated him. He left with his eyes bright and his face flushed. Perhaps another traveller entering our Age?"

Jherek refused to be moved by this news. "Did Lord Jagged go with him?"

"I am not sure. I wasn't aware he had gone." My Lady Charlotina raised her slender eyebrows.

"Odd that he did not pay his respects. All this rushing and mystery whets my curiosity."

"And mine," said Jherek feelingly, but he was determined to remain as insouciant as possible and bide his time. If Amelia Underwood had come back, he would know soon enough. He rather admired his own self-control; he was even faintly astonished by it.

"Isn't the scenery piquant?" said the Iron Orchid with something of a proprietorial air. On the slope where they had laid their picnic they could see for scores of miles. Below, there were plains and rivers and lakes of a rich variety of gentle colours. "So unspoiled. It hasn't been touched since Mongrove made it."

"I must admit to a preference for his earlier work," agreed Bishop Castle, running sensual fingers through the glittering snow which spread across the flanks of the great eminences. It was primarily white, with just the subtlest hint of pale blue. A few little flowers poked their delicate heads above the surface of the snow. They were mainly indigenous to this sort of alpine terrain — orange vedigris and yellow bottlewurt were two which Jherek had recognized, and another which he guessed was some kind of greenish St. Buck's Buttons.

Sweet Orb Mace, who had insisted on accompanying them, was rolling down the slope in a flurry of warm snow, laughing and shouting and rather destroying the tranquillity of the scene. The snow clung to her fur as she tried to get up and instead she slipped and slid further, hanging, helpless with mirth, over a precipice which must have been at least a thousand feet high. Then, the snows gave way and with a startled yell she fell.

"What 
could
 have possessed Mongrove to go into space?" said My Lady Charlotina with a token smile in the general direction of the vanished Sweet Orb Mace. "I cannot believe that she could possibly have been your father, you know, Jherek, however good the disguise."

"It was a very strong rumour at one time," the Iron Orchid said, stroking her son's hair and plucking little particles of snow from it. "But I agree, Charlotina, it would not be quite in Sweet Orb Mace's style.

Do you think she's all right?"

"Oh, of course. And if she forgot to use her gravity neutralizer, we can always resurrect her later.

Personally, I am glad of the peace."

"I understood from Mongrove that he regarded it as his destiny to accompany Yusharisp," Bishop Castle said. "To warn the universe of its peril."

"I could never understand his pleasure in passing on such news," said My Lady Charlotina. "It could alarm some cultures, could it not? I mean, think of the timid creatures we have had to look after from time to time when they have visited us. Many of them are so frightened at seeing people who do not look like themselves that they rush off back to their own planets as soon as they can. If we do not, of course, select them for a menagerie. I suspect that Mongrove's motives were rather different. I suspect that he had become thoroughly bored with his gloomy role but was too proud to change."

"An acute insight, sextupedal siren," said Jherek. "It is probably accurate." He smiled, affectionately remembering the way in which he had tricked the giant when Mrs. Amelia Underwood had belonged to Mongrove's menagerie. Then he frowned. "Ah, those were pleasant days."

"You are not happy with this outing, Jherek?" My Lady Charlotina was concerned.

"I can think of nowhere I would rather be in this whole world," he said tactfully, producing a convincing smile.

Only the Iron Orchid was not entirely relieved to hear these words. She said quietly to him: "I am inclined to regret the appearance both of Yusharisp from Space and your Mrs. Underwood from Time. It could be imagination, but it seems to me at this moment that they introduced a certain flavour into our society which I find not entirely palatable. You were once the joy of us all, Jherek, because of the enthusiasm you carried with you…"

"I assure you, most considerate of mothers, that my enthusiasm burns within me still. It is merely that I have nothing on which to focus it at present." He patted her hand. "I promise to be more amusing just as soon as my inspiration returns."

Relieved, she lay back in the snow, crying out almost immediately: "Oh, look! It is the Duke of Queens!"

None could fail to recognize the air car which came lumbering over the peaks in their direction — a genuine ornithopter in the shape of a huge hen, clanking and clucking its way through the sky, sometimes dropping dangerously low and at other times soaring so high as to be almost invisible. Its wide wings beat mightily at the air, its mechanical head glared this way and that as if in horrible confusion. The beak opened and shut rapidly, producing a strange clashing noise. And there, just visible, was the Duke's head, adorned by a huge, wide-brimmed hat festooned with plumes, a hand waving a long silver spear, a scarlet cloak billowing about him. He saw them and, erratically, aimed his hen in their direction, coming in so close that they flung themselves into the snow so as to avoid being struck. The ornithopter spiralled upwards, then spiralled down again, landing at last, a few yards away and waddling towards them.

The Duke's beard fairly bristled with excitement. "It is a Hunt, my dears. Some of my beaters are not too far away. You must join me!"

"A Hunt, darling Duke — for what?" asked Bishop Castle, arranging his hat on his head.

"Another alien — same race as Yusharisp — spotted in these parts — spaceship and everything.

We found the ship, but the alien had gone to ground somewhere. We'll find him soon. Bound to. Where's your car? Ah — Jherek's. That will do. Come along! The chase grows hot!"

They looked at one another enquiringly, laughingly. "Shall we?" said My Lady Charlotina.

"It will be fun," said the Iron Orchid. "Will it not, Jherek?"

"Indeed, it will!" Jherek began to race towards his landau, the other three at his heels. "Lead the way, hardiest of hunters. Into the air! Into the air!"

The Duke of Queens rattled his silver spear against his chicken's metal wattles. The chicken clucked and crowed and its wings began to beat again. "Ha ha! What sport!"

The chicken rose a few feet and then came down again, after a false start. Snow blew about in clouds around the ornithopter and from out of this blizzard there came the sound of the Duke's exasperated tones mingling with the almost embarrassed voice of the chicken as it tried to lift its bulk skyward. Jherek's landau was already circling the air before the Duke had managed to take off.

"He always regretted letting me have Yusharisp," said My Lady Charlotina. "The alien did not seem much of an addition to a menagerie at the time. One can understand his pleasure at discovering another. I do hope he is successful. We must do our best to help him, everyone. We must take the Hunt seriously."

"Without question!" said Jherek. More than the others, he welcomed the excitement.

"I wonder if this one bears the same dull tidings," said the Iron Orchid. Only she did not seem to be as entertained by their escapade as much as she might have been.

BOOK: Dancers at the End of Time
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