This Immortal (4 page)

"Earth's second contribution to galactic culture,"

one of their contemporary historians had called it.

The first contribution of course, being a very fine new social problem oTthe sort that weary Vegan THIS IMMORTAL 29

philosophers had been waiting around for generations to have happen.

Diane looked back.

"Don't know yet," she said. "Ask Don."

"I will."

I did, too. Later, though. And I wasn't disappointed, inasmuch as I expected nothing-But, as I sat trying as hard as I could to eavesdrop, there was suddenly a sight-vision overlay, of the sort a shrink had once classified for me as a pseudotelepathic wish-fulfillment. It works like this: I want to know what's going on somewhere. I have almost-sufficient information to guess. Therefore, I do. Only it comes on as though I am seeing it and hearing it through the eyes and ears of one of the parties involved. It's not real telepathy, though, I don't think, because it can sometimes be wrong. It sure seems real, though.

The shrink could tell me everything about it but why.

Which is how I

was standing in the middle of the room, was staring at Myshtigo,

was DOS Santos,

was saying:

"... will be going along, for your protection. Not as Radpol Secretary, just a private citizen."

f "I did not solicit your protection," the Vegan was

| saying, "however, I thank you. I will accept your 3 offer to circumvent my death at the hands of your comrades"-and he smiled as he said it-"if they should seek it during my travels. I doubt that they will, but I should be a fool to refuse the shield of DOS Santos."

30

ROGER ZELAZNY

"You are wise," we said, bowing slightly.

"Quite," said Cort. "Now tell me"-he nodded toward Ellen, who had just finished arguing with George about anything and was stamping away from him-"who is that?"

"•Ellen Emmet, the wife of George Emmet, the Director of the Wildlife Conservation Department."

"What is her price?"

"I don't know that she's quoted one recently."

"Well, what did it used to be?"

"There never was one."

"Everything on Earth has a price."

"In that case, I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself."

"I will," he said.

Earth femmes have always held an odd attraction for Vegans. A Veggy once told me that they make him feel rather like a zoophilist. Which is interesting, because a pleasure girl at the Cote d'Or Resort once told me, with a giggle, that Vegans made her feel rather like we 2.oophiliste. I guess those jets of air must tickle or something and arouse both beasts.

"By the way," we said, "have you stopped beating your wife lately?"

"Which one?" asked Myshtigo.

Fadeout, and me back in my chair.

"... What," George Emmet was asking, "do you think of that?"

I stared at him. He hadn't been there a second ago. He had come up suddenly and perched himself on the wide wing of my chair.

"Come again, please. I was dozing."

"I said we've beaten the spiderbat. What do you think of that?"

THIS IMMORTAL 31

"It rhymes," I observed. "So tell me how we've beaten the spiderbat."

But he was laughing. He's one of those guys with whom laughter is an unpredictable thing. He'll go around looking sour for days, and then some little thing will set him /off giggling. He sort of gasps when he laughs, like a baby, and that impression is reinforced by his pink flaccidity and thinning hair.

So I waited. Ellen was off insulting Lorel now, and Diane had turned to read the titles on the book-shelves.

Finally, "I've developed a new strain ofslishi/'he panted confidentially.

"Say, that's really great!"

Then, "What are slishi?" I asked softly.

"The slish is a Bakabian parasite," he explained,

"rather like a large tick. Mine are about three-cithths of an inch long," he said proudly, "and they burrow deep into the flesh and give off a highly poisonous waste product."

"Fatal?"

"Mine are."

"Could you lend me one?" I asked him.

"Why?"

"I want to drop it down someone's back. On second thought, make it a couple dozen. I have lots of friends."

"Mine won't bother people, just spiderbats.

They discriminate against people. People would poison my slishi.^ (He said "My slishi" very possessively.) "Their host has to have a copper"

rather than an iron-based metabolism," he ex-I plained, "and spiderbats fall into that category.

That's why I want to go with you on this trip."

32

ROGER ZELAZNY

"You want me to find a spiderbat and hold it for you while you dump slishi on it? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Well, I would like a couple spiderbats to keepI used all mine up last month-but I'm already sure the slishi will work. I want to go along to start the plague."

"Which plague?"

"Among the 'bats.-The slishi multiply quite rapidly under Earth conditions, if they're given the proper host, and they should be extremely con-tagious if we could get them started at the right time of year. What I had in mind was the late southwestern spiderbat mating season. It will begin in six to eight weeks in the territory of California, in an Old Place-not real hot anymore, though-called Capistrano. I understand that your tour will take you out that way at about that time. When the spiderbats return to Capistrano I want to be wait*

ing for them with the slishi. Also, I could use a vacation."

"Mm-hm. Have you talked this over with Lorel?"

"Yes, and he thinks it's a fine idea. In fact, he wants to meet us out there and take pictures. There may not be too many more opportunities to see them-darkening the sky with their flight, nesting about the ruins the way they do, eating the wild pigs, leaving their green droppings in the streets-it's rather beautiful, you know."

"Uh-huh, sort of like HaUoween. Whatll happen to all those wild pigs if we kill off the spiderbats?"

"Oh, there'll be more of them around. But I figure the pumas will keep them from getting like Australian rabbits. Anyway, you'd rather have pigs THIS IMMORTAL 33

than spiderbats, wouldn't you?"

"I'm not particularly fond of either, but now that I think of it I suppose I would rather have pigs than spiderbats. All right, sure, you can come along."

"Thank you," he said. "I was sure you'd help."

"Don't mention it."

Lorel made apologetic sounds deep in his throat about then. He stood beside the big desk in the middle of the room, before which the broad viewscreen was slowly lowering itself. It was a thick depth-transparer, so nobody had to move around after a better seat. He pressed a button on the side of the desk and the lights dimmed somewhat.

"Uh, I'm about to project a series of maps," he said, "if I can get this synchro-thing . . . There.

There it is."

The upper part of Africa and most of the Mediterranean countries appeared in pastels.

"Is that the one you wanted first," he asked Myshtigo.

"It was-eventually," said the big Vegan, turning away from a muffled conversation with Ellen, whom he had cornered in the French History alcove beneath a bust of Voltaire.

The lights dimmed some more and Myshtigo moved to the desk. He looked at the map, and then at nobody in particular.

"I want to visit certain key sites which, for one reason or another, are important in the history of your world," he said. "I'd like to start with Egypt, Greece and Rome. Then I'd like to move on quickly through Madrid, Paris and London." The maps shifted as he talked, not fast enough, though, to keep up with him. "Then I want to backtrack to Berlin, hit Brussels, visit St. Petersburg and Mos-34

ROGER ZELAZNY

cow, skip back over the Atlantic and stop at Boston, New York, Dee-Cee, Chicago," (Lorel was working up a sweat by then) "drop down to Yucatan, and jump back up to the California territory."

"In that order?" I asked.

"Pretty much so," he said.

"What's wrong with India and the middle East-or the Far East, for that matter?" asked a voice which I recognized as Phil's. He had come in after the lights had gone down low.

"Nothing," said Myshtigo, "except that it's mainly mud and sand and hot, and has nothing whatsoever to do with what I'm after."

"What are you after?"

"A story."

"What kind of story?"

"I'll send you an autographed copy."

"Thanks."

"Your pleasure."

"When do you wish to leave?" I asked him.

"Day after tomorrow," he said.

"Okay."

"I've had detailed maps of the specific sites made up for you. Lorel tells me they were delivered to your office this afternoon."

"Okay again. But there is something of which you may not be fully cognizant. It involves the fact that everything you've named so far is mainlandish.

We're pretty much an island culture these days, and for very good reasons. During the Three Days the Mainland got a good juicing, and most of the places you've named are still inclined to be somewhat hot. This, though, is not the only reason they are considered unsafe ..."

"I am not unfamiliar with your history and I am THIS IMMORTAL

aware of the radiation precautions," he interrupted.

"Also, I am aware of the variety of mutated life forms which inhabit Old Places. I am concerned, but not worried."

I shrugged in the artificial twilight.

"It's okay by me . . ."

"Good." He took another sip'of Coke. "Let me have a little light then, Lorel."

"Right, Srin."

It was light again.

As the screen was sucked upward behind him, Myshtigo asked me, "Is it true that you are acquainted with several mambos and houngans here at the Port?"

"Why, yes," I said. "Why?"

He approached my chair.

"I understand," he said conversationally, "that voodoo, or voudoun, has survived pretty much unchanged over the centuries."

"Perhaps," I said. "1 wasn't around here when it got started, so I wouldn't know for sure."

"I understand that the participants do not much appreciate the presence of outsiders-"

"That too, is correct. But they'll put on a good show for you, if you pick the right hounfor and drop in on them with a few gifts."

"But I should like very much to witness a real ceremony. If I were to attend one with someone who was not a stranger to the participants, perhaps then I could obtain the genuine thing."

< "Why should you want to? Morbid curiosity con-

; cerning barbaric customs?"

/ "No. I am a student of comparative religions."

f I studied his face, but couldn't tell anything from it.

36 f ROGER ZELAZNY

j^tt had been awhile since I'd visited with Mama

^Julie and Papa Joe or any of the others, and the hounfor wasn't that far away, but I didn't know how they'd take to me bringing a Vegan around. They'd never objected when I'd brought people, of course.

"Well.. ."I began.

"I just want to watch," he said. "I'll stay out of the way. They'll hardly know I'm there."

I mumbled a bit and finally gave in. I knew Mama Julie pretty well and I didn't see any real harm being done, no matter what.

So, "Okay," said I, "I'll take you to one. Tonight, if you like."

He agreed, thanked me, and went off after another Coke. George, who had not strayed from the arm of my chair, leaned toward me and observed that it would be very interesting to dissect a Vegan. I agreed with him.

When Myshtigo returned, DOS Santos was at his side.

"What is this about you taking Mister Myshtigo to a pagan ceremony?" he asked, nostrils flared and quivering.

"That's right," I said, "I am."

"Not without a bodyguard you are not."

I turned both palms upward.

"I am capable of handling anything which might arise."

"Hasan and I will accompany you."

I was about to protest when Ellen insinuated herself between them.

"I want to go, too," she said. "I've never been to one."

I shrugged. If DOS Santos went, then Diane would go, too, which made for quite a few of us.

THIS IMMORTAL 37

So one more wouldn't matter, shouldn't matter.

It was ruined before it got started.

"Why not?" I said.

The hounfor was located down in the harbor section, possibly because it was dedicated to Ague Woyo, god of the sea. More likely, though, it was because Mama Julie's people had always been harbor people. Agu6 Woyo is not a jealous god, so lots of other deities are commemorated upon the walls in brilliant colors. There are more elaborate hounfors further inland, but they tend to be somewhat com-mercial.

Ague's big blazeboat was blue and orange and green and yellow and black, and it looked to be somewhat unseaworthy. Damballa Wedo, crimson, writhed and coiled his length across most of the opposite wall. Several big rada drums were being stroked rhythmically by Papa Joe, forward and to the right of the door through which we entered-the only door. Various Christian saints peered from behind unfathomable expressions at the bright hearts and cocks and graveyard crosses, Hags, machetes and crossroads that clung to almost every inch of the walls about them-frozen into an after-the-hurricane surrealism by the ampoteric paints of Titan-and whether or not the saints approved one could never tell: they stared down through their cheap picture-frames as though they were windows onto an alien world.

The small altar bore numerous bottles of alcohol-ic beverages, gourds, sacred vessels for the spirits of the loa, charms, pipes, flags, depth photos of unknown persons and, among other things, a pack of cigarettes for Papa Legba.

38

ROGER ZELAZNY

A service was in progress when we were led in by a young hounst named Luis, The room was about eight meters long and five wide, had a high ceiling, a dirt floor. Dancers moved about the central pole with slow, strutting steps. Their flesh was dark and it glistened in the dim light of the antique kerosene lamps. With our entry the room became crowded.

Mama Julie took my hand and smiled. She led me back to a place beside the altar and said,