He was surprised. "If joy flees, Amelia, it is in the face of experience. I love you. And it seems there is a price to pay for that ecstasy I feel."
"Price! You never mentioned such things before. You accepted the good and had no understanding of the evil." She spoke in an undertone, conscious of the time-traveller's proximity.
Jherek raised her hand to his lips, kissing the clenched fingers. "Amelia, I mourn for Jagged, and perhaps my mother, too. There is no question…"
"I became emotional," she said. "It is hard to know whether such a state of mind is suitable to the occasion…" And she laughed, though her eyes blinked at tears. She cleared her throat. "Yes, this is mere hysteria. However, not knowing if death is a heartbeat hence or if we are to be saved…"
He drew her to him. He kissed her eyes. Very quickly, then, she recovered herself, contemplating the city with a worried, unhappy gaze.
The city had every appearance of decline, and Jherek himself no longer believed the assurances he had given her, that the changes in it were merely superficial. Where once it had been possible to see for distances of almost a mile, down vistas of statuary and buildings, now there was only sufficient light (and that luridly unpleasant) to see a hundred yards or so. He began to entertain thoughts of begging the time-traveller to rescue them, to take them back to 1896, to risk the dangers of the Morphail Effect (which, anyway, did not seem to operate so savagely upon them as it did upon others).
"All that sunshine," she said. "It was false, as I told you. There was no real sun ever in your sky — only that which the cities made for you. They kept a shell burning and this barren cinder of a planet turning about it. Your whole world, Jherek, it was a lie!"
"You are too critical, Amelia. Man has an instinct to sustain his own environment. The cities were created in response to that instinct. They served it well."
Her mood changed. She started away from him. "It is so cruel that they should fail us now."
"Amelia…" he moved to follow.
It was then that the sphere appeared, without warning, a short distance from the time-traveller's "Chronomnibus". It was black, and distorted images of the surrounding city could be seen in its gleaming hull.
Jherek joined her and together they watched as a hatch whirled and two black-clad figures emerged, pushing back their breathing-apparatus and goggles to become recognizable as Mrs. Una Persson and Captain Oswald Bastable.
Captain Bastable smiled as he saw them. "So you did arrive safely. Excellent."
The time-traveller approached, shaking hands with the young captain. "Glad you were able to keep the rendezvous, old man. How do you do, Mrs. Persson? How pleasant to see you again."
Captain Bastable was in high spirits. "This should be worth witnessing, eh?"
"You have not been present at the end before?"
"No, indeed!"
"I was hoping that you could give me some advice."
"Of course, if we can help. But the man you really need is Lord Jagged. It was he who —"
"He is not here." The time-traveller placed both hands in the pockets of his Norfolk. "There is some doubt that he survives."
Una Persson shook out her short hair. She glanced idly around as a building seemed to dance a few feet towards her and then collapsed in on itself, rather like a concertina. "I've never much cared for these places. Is this Tanelorn?"
"Shanalorm, I think." Jherek held back, though he was desperate for news of his friend.
"Even the names are confusing. Will it take long?"
Believing that he interpreted her question, Jherek told her: "Mongrove estimates a matter of moments. He says the very planet crumbles."
Mrs. Persson sighed and rubbed at a weary eye. "We have Shifter co-ordinates which require working out, Captain Bastable. The conditions are so good. Such a pity to waste —"
"The information we stand to gain…" Evidently Captain Bastable had wanted to keep this appointment more than had she. He shrugged apologetically. "It isn't every day we have the chance to see something as interesting…"
She gestured with a gauntleted hand. "True. Pay no attention to me. I'm not quite recovered."
"I am trying to get back to my own universe," began the time-traveller. "It was suggested to me that you could help, that you have experience of such problems."
"It's a matter of intersections," she told him. "That was why I wanted to concentrate on the Shifter. Conditions are excellent."
"You can still help?"
"Hopefully." She did not seem ready to discuss the matter. Politely, yet reluctantly, the time-traveller checked his eagerness and became silent.
"You are all taking this situation very casually." Amelia Underwood cast a critical eye over the little group. "Even selfishly. There is a possibility that at least some of those here could be evacuated, taken back through time. Have you no sense of the import — of the tragedy taking place. All the aspirations of our race vanishing as if they had never existed!"
Una Persson seemed to express a certain weary kindness when she replied. "That is, Mrs. Underwood, a somewhat melodramatic interpretation…"
"Mrs. Persson, the situation seems to be rather more than 'melodramatic'. This is extinction!"
"For some, possibly."
"Not for you time-travellers, perhaps. Will you make no effort to help others?"
Mrs. Persson did her best to stifle a yawn. "I think our perspectives must be very different, Mrs. Underwood. I assure you that I am not without a social conscience, but when you have experienced so much, on such a scale, as we have experienced, issues take on a different colouring. Besides, I do not think— Good heavens! What is that?"
They all followed her gaze towards a low line of ruins; recently crumbled. In the semi-darkness there bobbed, apparently along the top of the ruins, a procession of about a dozen objects, roughly dome-shaped. They were immediately familiar to Jherek and Amelia as the helmets of Inspector Springer's constables. They heard the faint sound of a whistle.
Within a few seconds, as a break appeared in the ruins, it was apparent to all that they witnessed a chase. The Lat were attempting to escape their captors. Their little pear-shaped bodies scuttled rapidly over the fallen masonry, but Springer's men were not far behind. They could hear the cries of the Lat and the police quite clearly now.
"Hrunt mibix ferkit!"
"Stop! Stop in the name of the law! Collar 'im, Weech!"
The Lat stumbled and fell, but managed to keep ahead of their pursuers, for all that most of them, save Captain Mubbers and perhaps Rokfrug, still wore handcuffs.
The whistles shrilled again. There was a great waving of truncheons. The Lat disappeared from view, but emerged again not far from Mrs. Persson's time-sphere, saw the group of humans and hesitated before dodging off in the opposite direction.
The policemen, who would remain solidly conscious of their duty until the Crack of Doom sounded at last, and the very ground fell away from beneath their pounding boots, continued implacably after their prey.
Soon both Lat and police were out of sight and earshot again, and the conversation could resume.
Mrs. Persson lost something of her weary manner and seemed amused by the incident. "I had no idea there were others here! Were not those the aliens we sent on? I would have thought that they would have left the planet by now."
"They wanted to loot and rape everything first," Jherek explained. "But then the Pweelians stopped them. The Pweelians seem to take pleasure in stopping almost everyone from doing almost everything! This is their hour of triumph, I suppose. They have waited for it for a long time, of course, so it seems niggardly to criticize…"
"You mean there is still another race of space-travellers in the city?" Captain Bastable asked.
"Yes. The Pweelians, as I said. They have some sort of plan for survival. But I did not find it agreeable. The Duke of Queens…"
"He is here!" Mrs. Persson brightened. Captain Bastable frowned a little circumspectly to himself.
&nb
sp; "You know the Duke?"
"Oh, we are old friends."
"And Lord Mongrove?"
"I have heard of him," said Mrs. Persson, "but I have never had the pleasure of meeting him. However, if there is an opportunity…"
"I should be delighted to introduce you. Always assuming that this little oasis, as Mongrove called it, doesn't disintegrate before I have the chance."
"Mr. Carnelian!" Amelia tugged at his sleeve. "I would remind you that this is no time for social chat. We must attempt to prevail upon these people to rescue as many of those here as is possible!"
"I was forgetting. It is so nice to know that Mrs. Persson is a friend of the Duke of Queens. Do you not think, dearest Amelia, that we should try to find him. He would be glad to resume the acquaintance, I am sure!"
Mrs. Amelia Underwood shrugged her beautiful shoulders and sighed a really rather shallow sigh. She was beginning to lose interest, it seemed, in the whole business.
19. In Which Differences of Opinion are Expressed and Relationships Further Defined
Becoming aware of Amelia's displeasure, and seeking to respond to events as she wished, Jherek recalled some Wheldrake.
Thus is the close upon us
(Corpse calls to corpse and chain echoes chain).
Now the bold paint flakes upon the cheek
(And our pain lends point to pain).
Now there are none among us
Need seek for Death's domain…
Captain Bastable joined in the last line, looking for approval not to Jherek but to Mrs. Underwood.
"Ah, Wheldrake," he began, "ever apt…"
"Oh, bother Wheldrake!" said Mrs. Underwood, and she stalked off in the direction from which she and Jherek had originally come, but she paused suddenly as a cheerful voice called out:
"There you are, Amelia! Sergeant Sherwood and I were just on the point of Woman's contribution to Sin. It would be worth having any comments, from the horse's mouth, as you might say."
"And damn you, Harold!"
She gasped at her own language. Then she grinned. "Oh, dear…"
If Harold had noticed he doubtless accepted her oath as further evidence of their situation. He smiled vaguely at her. "Well, perhaps later…" His pince-nez glittered so that his eye-sockets appeared to contain flame. Chatting, he and the police sergeant strolled on.
Jherek caught up with her. "I have offended you, my dear. I thought…"
"Perhaps I, too, am mad," she told him. "Since nobody else is taking the end of the world seriously, then it is evident that I should not, either." But she was not convinced.
"Yusharisp and the Pweelians take it seriously, dearest Amelia. And Lord Mongrove. But it seems to me that you have no real leaning in their direction."
"I do what I think is right."
"Yet it conflicts with your temperament, you would admit?"
"Oh, this is unfair!" She paced on. Now they could see the Pweelian spacecraft where they had left it. Inspector Springer and the Duke of Queens held their hands in the air.
Standing on three legs, Yusharisp, or one of his comrades, held an object in his fourth foot (or hand) with which he menaced Inspector Springer and the Duke of Queens.
"My goodness!" Amelia hesitated. "They are using force! Who would have suspected it?"
Lord Mongrove seemed put out by the turn of events. He stood to one side, muttering to himself. "I am not sure. I am not sure."
"We have decided (skree) to act for your own (roar) good," Yusharisp told the two men. "The others will be rounded up in time. Now, if you will kindly, for the moment, board the spaceship…"
"Put that gun away!" The ringing command issued from the lips of Amelia Underwood. Even she seemed surprised by it. "Does the end of the world mean the end of the Rule of Law? What point is there in perpetuating intelligent life if violence is to be the method by which we survive? Are we not above the beasts?"
"I think (skree) madam that you (yelp) fail to understand the urgency (skree) of the situation (roar)." Yusharisp was embarrassed. The weapon wavered. Seeing this the Duke of Queens immediately lowered his hands.
"We (skrrreee) did not intend to continue to threaten anyone (roar) after (yelp) the immediate danger was (skree) avoided," said another Pweelian, probably CPS Shushurup. "It is not in (skree) our nature to approve of (skree) violence or (roar) threats."
"You have been threatening everyone since you arrived!" she told them. "Bullying us not, until now, with weapons, but with moral arguments which begin to seem increasingly specious to me and which have never convinced the denizens of this world (it is not mine, I might add, and I do not approve of their behaviour any more than do you), Now you give us evidence of the weakness of your arguments — you bring forth your guns and your bald threats of violence!"
"It is not (skree) anything like so (roar) simple, madam. It is a question of (yelp) survive or die…"
"It seems to me," she said calmly, "that it is you who simplify, Mr. Yusharisp."
Jherek looked admiringly on. As usual, the arguments were inclined to confuse him, but he thought Amelia's assumption of authority was magnificent.
"I would suggest," she continued, "that you leave these people to their own solutions to their problems, and that you do, for yourselves, whatever you think best."
"Lord Mongrove (yelp) invited our (skree) help," said CPS Shushurup in an aggrieved whine. "Do not listen (skree) to her (yelp), Yusharisp. We must continue (roar) with our work!"
The limb holding the gun became steadier. Slowly, the Duke of Queens raised his hands, but he winked at Jherek Carnelian.
Lord Mongrove's gloomy boom interrupted the dispute. "I have, I must admit, Yusharisp, been having second thoughts…"
" Second thoughts! " Yusharisp was beside himself. "At this (skree) stage!"
The little alien gestured with his weapon. "Look (skree) out there at that — that (roar) nothingness. Can you not feel (yelp) the city breaking apart? Lord Mongrove, of all (skree) people, I would have thought that you (roar) could not change your mind. Why (skree) — why?"
The giant shuffled his feet in the rust and the dust. He scratched his huge head. He fingered the collar of his robe of funereal purple. "As a matter of fact, Yusharisp, I, too, am becoming just a jot bored with this — um — drama."
"Drama! Skrrreeeee! It is not a game (yelp) Lord Mongrove. You, yourself, said as (skree) much!"
"Well, no…"
"There, you see, Sergeant Sherwood. It cannot be argued any longer, I think, that there are no devils in Hell. Look at those chaps there. Devils, if ever I saw some!" It was Harold Underwood, emerging from behind the Pweelian's spaceship. "So much for the sceptics, eh? So much for the Darwinians, hm? So much, Sergeant Sherwood, for your much vaunted Science! Ha!" He approached Yusharisp with some curiosity. He inspected him through his pince-nez. "What a distortion of the human body — revealing, of course, the distortion of the spirit within." He straightened up, linking arms, again, with his disciple. "With luck, Sergeant Sherwood, we shall soon get a look at the Arch Fiend Himself!" Nodding to those of the company he recognized, Harold Underwood wandered off again.
Mrs. Underwood watched her husband disappear. "I must say, I have never known him so agreeable. What a shame he could not have been brought here before."
"I wash my (skree) feet of you all!" said Yusharisp. He appeared to be sulking as he went to lean against the noxious side of his spaceship. "Most of them have run away, already."
"Shall we lower our hands?" asked the Duke of Queens.
"Do what you (skree) like…"
"I wonder if my men 'ave caught them Latvians yet," said Inspector Springer. "Not, I suppose, that it matters a lot now. On the other 'and, I 'ate to leave things unfinished. Know what I mean, Duke?" He looked at his watch.
"Oh, I do, very much, Inspector Springer. I had plans for a party that would have made all other parties seem drab, and I was about to embark on my new project — a life-size reproduction of the ancient planet,
Mars, complete with reproductions of all its major cities, and a selection of different cultures from its history. But with things as they are…" He contemplated the blackness of infinity beyond the city, he contemplated the ruin within. "There aren't the materials any longer, I suppose."
"Or the means," Mongrove reminded him. "Are you sure, Duke, that you don't want to take part in this Salvation scheme?"
The Duke sat down upon a half-melted metal cube. "It doesn't have much to recommend it, dear Mongrove. And one cannot help feeling, well, interfered with…"
The cube on which he sat began to grumble. Apologetically he stood up.
"It is Fate which interferes with your useless idyll!" said Yusharisp, in some exasperation. "Not (skree) the people of Pweeli. We acted (roar) from the noblest of motives."
Once more losing interest in the conversation, Jherek made to lead Amelia away. She resisted his tugging hand for only a moment before going with him.
"The time-travellers and the space-travellers do not, as yet, seem to be aware of one another's presence," she said. "Should we tell them? After all, only a few yards separate them!"
"Let us leave them all, Amelia. Initially we sought privacy."
Her expression softened. She moved closer to him. "Of course, dear Jherek."
He swelled with pleasure.
"It will be so sad," she said a little later, in a melancholy tone, "to die, when we have at last both admitted our feelings."
"To die, Amelia?"
Something like a dead tree, but made of soft stone, started to flicker. A screen appeared in its trunk. The image of a man began to speak, but there was no sound. They watched it for a little while before continuing.
"To die?" he said.
"Well, we must accept the inevitable, Jherek."
"To be called by my first name! You do not know, Amelia, how happy you make me!"
"There seemed no further point in refusing you the true expression of my feelings, since we have such a short time together."
"We have eternity!"
"In one sense, possibly. But all are agreed that the city must soon perish."
As if to deny her words, a steady throbbing began to pulse beneath their feet. It had strength and signified the presence of considerable energy, while the glow from the surrounding ruins suddenly took on a healthier colour, a sort of bright blue.
The End of All Songs dateot-3 Page 15
