Part 6 (1/2)
”Contract. By the stars, what else? Of course, a chance to make a voyage with you--”
”Don't be silly, Venza.”
I enjoyed her. I gazed at her small, slim figure reclining in the deck chair. Her long, gray robe parted by design, I have no doubt, to display her shapely, satin-sheathed legs. Her black hair was coiled in a heavy knot at the back of her neck; her carmine lips were parted with a mocking, alluring smile. The exotic perfume of her enveloped me.
She glanced at me sidewise from beneath her sweeping black lashes.
”Be serious,” I added.
”I am serious. Sober. Intoxicated by you, but sober.”
I said, ”What sort of a contract?”
”A theater in Ferrok-Shahn. Good money, Gregg. I'll be there a year.”
She sat up to face me. ”There's a fellow here on the _Planetara_, Rance Rankin, he calls himself. At our table--a big, good-looking blond American. He says he is a magician. Ever hear of him?”
”That's what he told me. No, I never heard of him.”
”Nor did I. And I thought I had heard of everyone of importance. He is listed for the same theater I am. Nice sort of fellow.” She paused, then added, ”If he's a professional entertainer, I'm a motor oiler.”
It startled me. ”Why do you say that?”
Instinctively my gaze swept the deck. An Earth woman and child and a small Venus man were in sight, but not within earshot.
”Why do you look so furtive?” she retorted. ”Gregg, there's something strange about this voyage. I'm no fool, nor you, so you must know it as well as I do.”
”Rance Rankin--” I prompted.
She leaned closer toward me. ”He could fool you. But not me--I've known too many magicians.” She grinned. ”I challenged him to trick me. You should have seen him evading!”
”Do you know Ob Hahn?” I interrupted.
She shook her head. ”Never heard of him. But he told me plenty at breakfast. By Satan, what a flow of words that devil driver can muster! He and the Englishman don't mesh very well, do they?”
She stared at me. I had not answered her grin; my mind was too busy with queer fancies. Halsey's words: ”Things are not always what they seem--” Were these pa.s.sengers masqueraders? Were they put here by George Prince? And then I thought of Miko the Martian, and the burn upon his arm.
”Come back, Gregg! Don't go wandering off like that!” She dropped her voice to a whisper. ”I'll be serious. I want to know what in h.e.l.l is going on aboard this s.h.i.+p. I'm a woman and I'm curious. You tell me.”
”What do you mean?” I parried.
”I mean a lot of things. What we've just been talking about. And what was the excitement you were in just before breakfast this morning?”
”Excitement?”
”Gregg, you may trust me.” For the first time she was wholly serious.
Her gaze made sure no one was within hearing. She put her hand on my arm. I could barely hear her whisper: ”I know they might have a ray upon us. I'll be careful.”
”They?”
”Anyone. Something's going on. You know it. You are in it. I saw you this morning, Gregg. Wild-eyed, chasing a phantom--”