was a special case,” Aegeus reminded her. “You worked in New York at the end of the nineteenth century, as I recall. Do you remember the millionaire, William Randolph Hearst?”
“Of course I do,” said Ereshkigal. “But he was mortal.”
Aegeus snickered. “Only temporarily, it seems,” he replied. “It’s a long story.”
Montreal, Simultaneously
“It took them long enough,” said Labienus, setting his surveillance device on automatic record again. He looked nothing like Aegeus, yet somehow they shared the same indefinable look of public probity, dignity, and authority.
“How likely is it they’ve actually managed to find a toxin that works?” wondered Nennius, who might be brother to either the aforementioned immortals. He scowled as he sipped from a glass of sherry.
“Oh, very likely,” Labienus assured him. “They’ve had that little drone you gave them to experiment on for, how long now? Five decades?”
“Thereabouts,” said Nennius. “There wasn’t that much to Lewis; you’d think they’d have finished him long ago.”
“Perhaps they’ve been perfecting it, whatever it is.” Labienus poured himself a glass. “Here’s to the waters of Lethe! There really are too many of us anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of our immortal brethren actually jump at the chance to die, when the time comes.”
“And leave the world for us to bustle in? Bravo,” agreed Nennius. “You’ll monitor the tiny cretins closely, I suppose? Be prepared to step in at the last possible moment and grab the goods?”
“What else?” Labienus smiled. Nennius raised his glass in salute.
“I’ll set my best people on it. Now! The reason I came out here in such a tearing hurry is, I’ve got a private collector who’s willing to pay anything for the corpse of Harry Houdini. The only catch is, he wants the monument bust as well. Can you arrange it?”
Labienus made a face. “The bust’s available. The corpse, unfortunately …”
“Ah. It’s in bad shape?”
“Not exactly. It’s not there, that’s the problem. When we got his coffin open, it was empty.”
“Damn,” said Nennius, mildly outraged.
Fez, 9 July 2355
Suleyman sets back the Viziers and draws out the ivory Rukh, turning it in his hand. It’s a heavy piece, depicted as a crusader-era stone tower in the Norman style. On the battlements stand two scowling warriors in generic European army uniforms. They are disproportionately large. At their feet crouches a dog, his ears and muzzle sharp points, and his head is lifted as though he is baying at the moon
.
CHAPTER 4
The Castle in the Clouds, 2333
Time for the news!
The big boy set down his little dog and stood up. He sighted along the row of tiny holoprojectors mounted through the room at eye level (his eye level, anyway) and focused sharply on the first one to send its picture flaring into light and color, about halfway down the wall. He began to snap out a staccato rhythm with his fingers.
As the opening fanfare sounded he was abruptly
there
in front of the floating image, watching as the first snippets of program teaser played. Just as the commercial interlude was beginning, a projector on the wall opposite put forth its lit image, commencing a news broadcast from another region. He whirled and absorbed its lead-in; whirled back as another image appeared, and darted to another apparition as it came, and so to another and another, as the whole of his long study glowed with a babel of voices and bright forms.
By this time the big boy was moving rather too fast for a mortal eye to follow, and it was just as well. Any mortal would be profoundly unsettled watching his movements, which resembled a bizarre dance, sort of a cross between the rushing assault of a grizzly bear and the effortless glide of a hummingbird between the vivid ghosts. Image to image to image, he was actually managing to watch all thirty news programs simultaneously.
His speed wasn’t the only unsettling
“Of course I do,” said Ereshkigal. “But he was mortal.”
Aegeus snickered. “Only temporarily, it seems,” he replied. “It’s a long story.”
Montreal, Simultaneously
“It took them long enough,” said Labienus, setting his surveillance device on automatic record again. He looked nothing like Aegeus, yet somehow they shared the same indefinable look of public probity, dignity, and authority.
“How likely is it they’ve actually managed to find a toxin that works?” wondered Nennius, who might be brother to either the aforementioned immortals. He scowled as he sipped from a glass of sherry.
“Oh, very likely,” Labienus assured him. “They’ve had that little drone you gave them to experiment on for, how long now? Five decades?”
“Thereabouts,” said Nennius. “There wasn’t that much to Lewis; you’d think they’d have finished him long ago.”
“Perhaps they’ve been perfecting it, whatever it is.” Labienus poured himself a glass. “Here’s to the waters of Lethe! There really are too many of us anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of our immortal brethren actually jump at the chance to die, when the time comes.”
“And leave the world for us to bustle in? Bravo,” agreed Nennius. “You’ll monitor the tiny cretins closely, I suppose? Be prepared to step in at the last possible moment and grab the goods?”
“What else?” Labienus smiled. Nennius raised his glass in salute.
“I’ll set my best people on it. Now! The reason I came out here in such a tearing hurry is, I’ve got a private collector who’s willing to pay anything for the corpse of Harry Houdini. The only catch is, he wants the monument bust as well. Can you arrange it?”
Labienus made a face. “The bust’s available. The corpse, unfortunately …”
“Ah. It’s in bad shape?”
“Not exactly. It’s not there, that’s the problem. When we got his coffin open, it was empty.”
“Damn,” said Nennius, mildly outraged.
Fez, 9 July 2355
Suleyman sets back the Viziers and draws out the ivory Rukh, turning it in his hand. It’s a heavy piece, depicted as a crusader-era stone tower in the Norman style. On the battlements stand two scowling warriors in generic European army uniforms. They are disproportionately large. At their feet crouches a dog, his ears and muzzle sharp points, and his head is lifted as though he is baying at the moon
.
CHAPTER 4
The Castle in the Clouds, 2333
Time for the news!
The big boy set down his little dog and stood up. He sighted along the row of tiny holoprojectors mounted through the room at eye level (his eye level, anyway) and focused sharply on the first one to send its picture flaring into light and color, about halfway down the wall. He began to snap out a staccato rhythm with his fingers.
As the opening fanfare sounded he was abruptly
there
in front of the floating image, watching as the first snippets of program teaser played. Just as the commercial interlude was beginning, a projector on the wall opposite put forth its lit image, commencing a news broadcast from another region. He whirled and absorbed its lead-in; whirled back as another image appeared, and darted to another apparition as it came, and so to another and another, as the whole of his long study glowed with a babel of voices and bright forms.
By this time the big boy was moving rather too fast for a mortal eye to follow, and it was just as well. Any mortal would be profoundly unsettled watching his movements, which resembled a bizarre dance, sort of a cross between the rushing assault of a grizzly bear and the effortless glide of a hummingbird between the vivid ghosts. Image to image to image, he was actually managing to watch all thirty news programs simultaneously.
His speed wasn’t the only unsettling
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