Part 41 (1/2)

But he remembered the ravens. No blandishment of logic could erase the fact that the ravens had seen these . . . things too. Again, he asked himself: What is a Chem?

”You don't believe me,” Kelexel said. ”You don't want to believe me.” He could feel relaxation seep through his body like a warm drink. Ahh, this was amusing. He saw the fascination Fraffin's people must have known once intimidating these creatures. The anger and jealousy he had directed against Thurlow began to dissipate.

Thurlow swallowed. His reason directed him into outrageous channels of thought. ”If I believed you,” he said, ”I'd have to infer you were . . . well, some kind of . . .”

”Someone from another world?”

”Yes.”

Kelexel laughed. ”The things I could do! I could frighten you into a stupor like that!” He snapped his fingers.

It was a solidly human gesture from this inhuman looking person. Thurlow saw it and took a deep breath. He gave a closer examination to his caller's clothes: the cape, the leotards. He looked at the oddly high-positioned ears. The cape could've come from a theatrical outfitter, he thought. He looks like a dwarf Bela Lugosi. Can't be over four feet tall.

A near panic fear of his visitor shot through Thurlow then. ”Why're you here?” he demanded.

Why am I here? For a moment no logical reason came to Kelexel's mind. He thought of Ruth unconscious on the tagalong in the other room. This Thurlow might've been her mate. A pang of jealousy gripped Kelexel.

”Perhaps I came to put you in your place,” he said. ”Perhaps I'll take you to my s.h.i.+p far above your silly planet and show you what an unimportant speck it is.”

I must humor him, Thurlow thought. He said: ”Let's grant this isn't a joke in bad taste and you're . . .”

”You don't tell a Chem he has bad taste,” Kelexel said.

Thurlow heard the violence in Kelexel's voice. By an effort of conscious will, he paced his breathing to an even rhythm, stared at the intruder. Could this be the reason Ruth is gone? he wondered. Is this one of the creatures who took her, who've been spying on me, who watched poor Joe Murphey die, who . . .

”I've broken the most important laws of my society to come here,” Kelexel said. ”It astonishes me what I've done.”

Thurlow took off his gla.s.ses, found a handkerchief on his dresser, polished the lenses, returned them to his nose. I must keep him talking, he thought. As long as he continues to talk, he's venting his violence.

”What is a Chem?” Thurlow asked.

”Good,” Kelexel said. ”You have normal curiosity.” He began to explain the Chem in broad outline, their power, their immortality, their storys.h.i.+ps.

Still no mention of Ruth. Thurlow wondered if he dared ask about her.

”Why have you come to me?” he asked. ”What if I told about you?”

”Perhaps you'll not be able to tell about us,” Kelexel said. ”And who'd believe you if you did?”

Thurlow focused on the threat. Granting that this Kelexel was who he said he was, then here was profound danger. Who could stand against such a creature? Thurlow suddenly saw himself as a Sandwich Islander facing iron cannon.

”Why're you here?” he repeated.

Annoying question! Kelexel thought. A momentary confusion overcame him. Why was the witchdoctor so persistent? But he was a witchdoctor, a primitive, and perhaps knowledgeable in mysterious ways. ”You may know things helpful to me,” he said.

”Helpful? If you come from such an advanced civilization that you . . .”

”I will question you and dispute with you,” Kelexel said. ”Perhaps something will emerge.”

Why is he here? Thurlow asked himself. If he's what he says he is . . . why? Bits of Kelexel's phrases sorted themselves through Thurlow's awareness. Immortal. Storys.h.i.+ps. Search for amus.e.m.e.nt. Nemesis boredom. Immortal. Immortal. Immortal . . . Boredom!