Stranger in a Strange Land (57 page)

A man looked around. “Ben!”

“Well! Hi, Duke!”

Duke gave him a bear hug. “Gosh, it's good to see you. Thou art God. How do you like your eggs?”

“Thou art God. Are you the cook?”

“Only when I can't avoid it. Tony does most of it. We all do some. Even Mike unless Tony catches him—Mike is the world's worst cook.” Duke went on breaking eggs.

Ben moved in. “You look after toast and coffee. Any Worcestershire sauce?”

“You name it, Pat's got it. Here.” Duke added, “I looked in on you a while ago, but you were snoring. I've been busy or you have, ever since you got here.”

“What do you do, Duke?”

“Well, I'm a deacon. I'll be a priest someday. I'm slow—not that it matters. I study Martian . . . everybody does. And I'm the fix-it boy, same as for Jubal.”

“Must take a gang to maintain this place.”

“Ben, you'd be surprised how little it takes. You must see Mike's unique way of dealing with a stopped-up toilet; I don't have to play plumber much. Aside from plumbing, nine-tenths of the gadgetry is in this kitchen and it's not as gadgeted as Jubal's.”

“I thought you had some complicated gadgets for the temples ?”

“Lighting controls, that's all. Actually—” Duke grinned. “—my most important job is no work. Fire warden.”

“Huh?”

“I'm a deputy fire warden, examined and everything, and same for sanitary-and-safety inspector. We never have to let an outsider go through the joint. They can attend outer services but they never get farther unless Mike gives an up-check.”

They transferred food to plates and sat down. Duke said, “You're staying, Ben?”

“I can't, Duke.”

“So? I came just for a visit, too . . . went back and moped for a month before I told Jubal I was leaving. Never mind, you'll be back. Don't make any decisions before your Water-Sharing tonight.”

“ ‘Water-sharing'?”

“Didn't Dawn tell you?”

“Uh . . . I don't think so.”

“I should let Mike explain. No, people will be mentioning it all day. Sharing water you grok; you're First-Called.”

“ ‘First-Called?' Dawn used that expression.”

“Those who became Mike's water brothers without learning Martian. Others ordinarily do not share water and grow closer until they pass to Eighth Circle . . . by then they are beginning to think in Martian—shucks, some of them know more Martian than I do. It's not forbidden—
nothing
is forbidden—to share water with someone who isn't ready for Eighth Circle. Hell, I could pick up a babe in a bar, share water, take her to bed—and
then
bring her to the Temple. But I wouldn't. That's the point; I would never want to. Ben, I'll make a flat-footed prediction. You've been in bed with some fancy babes—”

“Uh . . . some.”

“I know damn' well you have. But you will never again crawl in with one who is not your water brother.”

“Hmm. . .”

“A year from now
you
tell
me
. Now Mike may decide that someone is ready before reaching even Seventh Circle. One couple Mike offered water when they entered Third Circle—and now he's a priest and she's a priestess . . . Sam and Ruth.”

“Haven't met 'em.”

“You will. But Mike is the only one who can be certain that soon. Very occasionally, Dawn, or Patty, will spot somebody . . . but never as far down as Third Circle and they always consult Mike. Not that they have to. Anyhow, into Eighth Circle and sharing and growing closer starts. Then Ninth Circle and the Nest itself—and that's the transition service we mean when we say ‘Sharing Water' even though we share water all day long. The whole Nest attends and the new brother becomes forever part of the Nest. In your case you already are . . . but we've never held the service, so tonight everything is pushed aside to welcome you. They did the same for me. Ben, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world.”

“I still don't know what it is, Duke.”

“Uh . . . it's lots of things. Ever been on a real luau, the kind the cops raid and usually ends in a divorce or two?”

“Well . . . yes.”

“Brother, you've only been on Sunday School picnics! That's one aspect. Have you ever been married?”

“No.”

“You
are
married. After tonight there will never be any doubt in your mind.” Duke looked happily pensive. “Ben, I was married before . . . and at first it was nice and then it was steady hell. This time I like it, all the time. Shucks, I
love
it! I don't mean just that it's fun to shack up with a bunch of bouncy babes. I
love
them—all my brothers, both sexes. Take Patty—Patty mothers us. I don't think anybody gets over needing that. She reminds me of Jubal . . . and that old bastard had better get down here and get the word! My point is that it is not just that Patty is female. Oh, I'm not running down tail—”

“Who is running down tail?” a contralto voice interrupted.

Duke swung around. “Not me, you limber Levantine whore! Come here, babe, and kiss your brother Ben.”

“Never charged for it in my life,” the woman denied as she glided toward them. “Started giving it away before anybody told me.” She kissed Ben carefully and thoroughly. “Thou art God, Brother.”

“Thou art God. Share water.”

“Never thirst. Don't mind Duke—from the way he behaves he must have been a bottle baby.” She kissed Duke even more lingeringly while he patted her ample fundament. She was short, plump, brunette to swarthiness, and had a mane of heavy blue-black hair almost to her waist. “Duke, did you see a
Ladies' Home Journal
when you got up?” She took his fork and started eating his scrambled eggs. “Mmm . . . good. You didn't cook these, Duke.”

“Ben did. Why would I want a
Ladies' Home Journal?”

“Ben, stir up a couple of dozen more and I'll scramble 'em in relays. There's an article I want to show Patty, dear.”

“Okay,” agreed Ben.

“Don't get ideas about redecorating this dump! And leave some of that for me! You think us men can do our work on mush?”

“Tut, tut, Dukie darling. Water divided is water multiplied. Ben, Duke's complaints never mean anything—as long as he has enough women for two men and food for three, he's a perfect lamb.” She shoved a forkful into Duke's mouth. “Quit making faces, brother; I'll cook you a second breakfast. Or will it be your third?”

“Not even the first, yet. You ate it. Ruth, I was telling Ben how you and Sam pole-vaulted to Ninth. He's uneasy about the Sharing-Water tonight.”

She pursued the last bite on Duke's plate, moved over and started preparations to cook. “Duke, I'll send you out something other than mush. Take your coffee and skedaddle. Ben, I was worried, too—but don't you be, dear; Michael does not make mistakes. You belong here or you wouldn't be here. You're going to stay?”

“Uh, I can't. Ready for the first installment?”

“Pour them in. You'll be back. Someday you'll stay. Duke is correct—Sam and I pole-vaulted. It was too fast for a middle-aged, prim and proper housewife.”

“Middle-aged?”

“Ben, one bonus of the discipline is that as it straightens out your soul, your body straightens out, too. That's a matter in which Christian Scientists are right. Notice any medicine bottles in the bathrooms?”

“Uh, no.”

“There aren't any. How many people have kissed you?”

“Several.”

“As a priestess I kiss more than ‘several,' but there's never so much as a sniffle in the Nest. I used to be the sort of whiny woman who is never quite well and given to ‘female complaints.' ” She smiled. “Now I'm more female than ever but I'm twenty pounds lighter, years younger, and have nothing to complain about—I
like
being female. As Duke flattered me, ‘a Levantine whore' and unquestionably more limber—I sit in lotus position when I'm teaching, whereas it used to be all I could do just to bend over.

“But it did happen fast,” Ruth went on. “Sam was a professor of Oriental languages; he started coming because it was the only way to learn Martian. Strictly professional, he wasn't interested in the church. I went along to keep an eye on him. I was jealous, even more possessive than the average.

“So we worked up to Third Circle, Sam learning rapidly and myself grimly studying because I didn't want him out of my sight. Then
boom!
the miracle happened. We began to
think
in it, a little . . . and Michael felt it and had us stay after service one night . . . and Michael and Gillian gave us water. Afterwards, I knew that I was all the things I despised in other women and I despised my husband for letting me and hated him for what he had done. All this in English, with the worst parts in Hebrew. So I wept and moaned and made myself a stinking nuisance to Sam . . . and couldn't
wait
to share and grow closer again.

“After that things were easier but not easy as we were pushed through the circles as fast as possible. Michael knew we needed help and wanted to get us into the safety of the Nest. When it came time for our Sharing-Water, I was still unable to discipline myself without help. I wanted to enter the Nest—but wasn't sure I could merge with seven other people. I was scared silly; on the way over I almost begged Sam to turn around and go home.”

She looked up, unsmiling but beatific, a plump angel with a big spoon in one hand. “We walked into the Innermost Temple and a spotlight hit me and our robes were whisked away. . . and they were in the pool calling to us in Martian to come share the water of life—and I stumbled in and submerged and haven't come up since!

“Nor ever want to. Don't fret, Ben, you'll learn the language and acquire the discipline and you'll have loving help all the way. You jump in that pool tonight; I'll have my arms out to catch you. All of us will, welcoming you home. Take this to Duke and tell him I said he was a pig . . . but a charming one. And take this for yourself—oh, you can eat that much!—give me a kiss and run along; Ruthie has work to do.”

Ben delivered the kiss, the message, and the plate. He found Jill, apparently asleep, on one of the couches; he sat down facing her, enjoying the sweet sight and thinking that Dawn and Jill were more alike than he had realized. Jill's tan was unmarked and just the shade of Dawn's; their proportions were identical—in rest even their features were more alike.

He looked up from a bite and saw that her eyes had opened, she was smiling. “Thou art God, darling—and that smells good.”

“You look good. I didn't mean to wake you.” He moved across and sat by her, put a bite into her mouth. “My own cooking, with Ruth's help.”

“And good, too. You didn't wake me; I was just lazing until you came out. I haven't been asleep all night.”

“Not at all?”

“Not a wink. But I feel grand. Just hungry. That's a hint.”

So he fed her. She let him do so, not stirring. “Did you get any sleep?” she asked presently.

“Uh, some.”

“How much sleep did Dawn get? As much as two hours?”

“Oh, more than that.”

“Then she's all right. Two hours does as much as eight used to. I knew what a sweet night you were going to have—both of you—but I was worried that she might not rest.”

“Well, it
was
a wonderful night,” Ben admitted, “although I was, uh, surprised at the way you shoved her at me.”

“Shocked, you mean. I know you, Ben. I was tempted to spend the night with you myself—I wanted to, dear! But you arrived with jealousy sticking out in lumps. I think it's gone now. Yes?”

“I think so.”

“Thou art God. I had a wonderful night, too—free from worry by knowing you were in good hands. The best hands—better than mine.”

“Oh, never, Jill!”

“So? I grok a few lumps still—but we'll wash them away.” She sat up, touched his cheek, said soberly, “Before tonight, dear. Because, of all my beloved brothers, I would not have
your
Sharing-Water be less than perfect.”

“Uh—” Ben stopped.

“Waiting is,” she said, and reached toward the end of the couch. It looked to Caxton as if a pack of cigarettes jumped into her hand.

Glad to change the subject, he said, “You've picked up some sleight-of-hand, too.”

Jill smiled. “Nothing much. ‘I am only an egg,' to quote my teacher.”

“How did you do that?”

“Why, I whistled to it in Martian. First you grok a thing, then you grok what you want it to—
Mike.”
She waved. “We're over here, dear!”

“Coming.” The Man from Mars came straight to Ben, pulled him to his feet. “Let me look at you, Ben! Golly, it's good to see you!”

“It's good to see you. And to be here.”

“What's this about three days? Three days indeed!”

“I'm a working man, Mike.”

“We'll see. The girls are all excited, getting ready for your Welcome tonight. Might just as well shut down—they won't be worth a damn.”

“Patty has rescheduled,” Jill told Mike. “Dawn and Ruth and Sam are taking care of what's necessary. Patty sloughed the matinee—so you're through for the day.”

“That's good news!” Mike sat down, pulled Jill's head into his lap, pulled Ben down, put an arm around him, and sighed. He was dressed as Ben had seen him in the outer meeting, smart tropical business suit. “Ben, don't take up preaching. I spend night and day rushing from one job to another, telling people why they must never hurry. I owe you, along with Jill and Jubal, more than anyone on this planet—yet this is the first time I've been able to say hello. How've you been? You're looking fit. Dawn tells me you
are
fit.”