Part 17 (1/2)

'Quite. You see somehow he controls his s.h.i.+p's protective devices from where he is. After you had gone he told me again that he would let you see the Grail, but not me. I think he believes that if you see it you will realize that he is this spiritual savior he sets himself up to be.”

'You mean I could get into the s.h.i.+p and find the Grail?”

'Exactly. Once I had it in my possession, I would let him go. You would be free of him.”

'But he'd suspect.”

'His infatuation blinds him.”

'I wouldn't have to see him again?” She spoke as firmly as she could. ”I won't do that, whatever else.”

'You will never be asked to go to the menagerie and, in a while, he will have left this planet”

'It's stealing, of course,” she said.

'Call it recompense for all the damage he has done while here. Call it justice.”

'Yes. That's fair enough.”

'But no,” he looked kindly down on her, ”I ask too much of you.”

'You don't, really.” He had inspired in her a kind of eager courage. ”Let me help.”

'He has a.s.sured me that he will lower the barriers of his s.h.i.+p for you alone.”

'Then it's up to Mavis, isn't it?”

'If you feel you can do it, Miss Ming, I would show my grat.i.tude to you in many ways when you returned with the cup.”

'It's enough to help, out.” But she glanced at the power rings on his gloved fingers. ”When shall I go?” She paused. ”There won't be any danger, I suppose...?”

'None at all. He genuinely loves you, Miss Ming. Of course, if you consider this action a betrayal of Mr. Bloom...”

'Betrayal? I didn't make any deals with him.”

His voice was rich with gratification. ”It would mean much to me, as you know. My collection is important to my happiness. If I thought that I possessed an artifact that was not authentic, well, I should never be content.”

'Rely on Mavis.” Her eyes began to s.h.i.+ne.

'You are possessed of a great and admirable generosity,” he said.

His praise sent a pulse of well-being through her whole body.

Chapter Fifteen.

In which Mavis Ming sets off in search of the Holy Grail

Doctor Volospion had made no alterations on his force screen since the Fireclown had pa.s.sed beyond it. Mavis Ming moved through the eternal twilight of the castle's grounds, toward the dark and ragged hole in the wall of ice. On the other side of the hole she could see the brilliant scarlet of Emmanuel Bloom's s.h.i.+p.

Gingerly she stepped through the gap, sensitive to the stillness and silence of her surroundings. She wished that Doctor Volospion had been able to accompany her, at least this far, but he was wary, he had told her, of the Fireclown suspecting treachery. If Bloom detected another presence it was likely that he would immediately restore his s.h.i.+p's defenses.

The teardrop-shaped s.h.i.+p was a red silhouette against a background of dark trees. Its airlock remained open, its ramp was down. She paused as she looked up at it.

It was impossible from where she stood to see anything of the s.h.i.+p's interior, but she could smell a warm mustiness coming from the entrance, together with a suggestion of pale smoke. If she had not known otherwise, she might have suspected the Fireclown still inside. The s.h.i.+p was redolent of his presence.

She spoke aloud, to dispell the silence. ”Here goes, Mavis.”

She was wearing her blue and orange kimono over her bikini, for Doctor Volospion had warned her that it might be uncomfortably warm within the Fireclown's s.h.i.+p. She struggled up the pebbled surface of the ramp and hesitated again outside the entrance, peering in. It seemed to her that points of fire still flickered on the other side of the airlock's open door.

'Coo-ee!” she said.

She wet her lips. ”What manner of creature is lord of this fair castle?” She rea.s.sured herself with the language of her favorite books. ”Shall I find my handsome prince within. Or an ugly ogre...?” She shuddered. She looked back at the battlements and towers of gloomy Castle Volospion, hoping perhaps to see her protector, but the castle seemed entirely deserted. She drew a breath and entered the airlock. It was not quite so warm as she had been led to believe.

She moved from the airlock into the true interior of the s.h.i.+p. She found herself pleasantly surprised by its ordinariness. It was as if firelight illuminated the large chamber, although the source of that light was mysterious.

The rosy, flickering light cast her shadow, enlarged and distorted, upon the far wall. The chamber was in disorder, as if the shock of landing had dislodged everything from its place. Boxes, parchments, books and pictures were scattered everywhere; figurines lay dented or broken upon the carpeted floor; drapes, once used to cover portholes, hung lopsidedly upon the walls, which curved inward.

'What a lot of junk!” Her voice held more confidence. Apparently the place had been Mr. Bloom's storeroom, for there was no sign of furniture.

She stumbled over crates and bales of cloth until she reached a companionway leading up to the next chamber. Doctor Volospion had told her that she would probably find the cup in the control room, which must be above. She climbed, pushed open a hatch, and found herself in a circular room which was lit very similarly to the storage chamber, but so realistically that she found herself searching for the open fireplace which seemed to be the source of the light.

Save for a faint smell of burning timber, there was no sign of a fire.

'Mavis,” she said determinedly, ”keep that imagination of yours well under control!”

This room, as she had suspected, was the Fireclown's living quarters. It contained a good-sized bed, shelves, storage lockers, a desk, a chair and a screen whereby the occupant could check the s.h.i.+p's functions.

She wiped sweat from her forehead, glancing around her.

Against one wall, at the end of the bed, was a large metal ziggurat which looked as if it had once been the base for something else. Would this be where the cup was normally kept? If so, Emmanuel Bloom had hidden it and her job was going to be harder. On the wall were various pictures; some were paintings, others photographs and holographs, primarily of men in the costumes of many periods. On the wall, too, was a narrow shelf, about two feet long, apparently empty. She reached to touch it and felt something there. It was thin, like a long pencil. Curiously she rolled the object toward her until it fell into her hand. She was surprised.

It was an old-fas.h.i.+oned riding crop, its tip frayed and dividing at one end; a silver head at the other. The head was beautifully made-a woman's face in what the Italians called the ”stile Liberty.” Mavis was impressed most by the look of ineffable tranquillity upon the features. The contrast between the woman's expression and the function of the whip itself disturbed Mavis so much that she replaced it hastily.

Wis.h.i.+ng that the light were stronger, she began to search for the cup or goblet (Doctor Volospion's description had been vague). First she looked under the bed, finding only a collection of books and ma.n.u.scripts, many of them dusty.

'This whole s.h.i.+p could do with a good spring clean!” She searched through the wardrobe and drawers, finding a collection of clothes to match those worn by the men whose pictures decorated the wall. This sudden intimacy with Mr. Bloom's personal possessions had not only whetted her curiosity about him - his clothes, to her, were much more interesting than anything he had said - but had somehow given her a greater sympathy for him.

She began to feel unhappy about rummaging through his things; her search for the goblet began increasingly to seem like simple thievery.

Her search became more rapid as she sought to find the Grail and leave as soon as she could. If she had not made a promise to Doctor Volospion she would have left the s.h.i.+p there and then.

'You're a fool, Mavis. Everyone's told you. And do you ever listen?”