Big polygonal rafts drifted on the surface of the lagoon like leaves on a pond, and as Rivas's eyes grew accustomed to the soaring volume of the place and able to focus on smaller things, he saw that there were chairs and a table and candles, and in most cases a party of diners, on each raft. Waiters in little gondolas sculled among them, occasionally raising waves and drawing curses from the diners.
One raft held steady, perhaps anchored, way out in the middle of the lagoon, and instead of a table it had a ring of holes cut in it. All the holes were empty except the bigger central one, in which bobbed something that Rivas thought was a leather beanbag chair. The smell on the chilly air, he noticed, was the same one he'd encountered in Irvine—a mix of fish and garbage.
Sister Sue rang a bell mounted on the arch beside them, and though the silvery note wasn't loud, conversation stopped at all the tables. The monotonous singing stopped too, and the thing Rivas had thought was a beanbag chair straightened up, revealing itself to be the unsubmerged top half of a man—bald, brown, and fatter than Rivas would have thought a person could get.
«Mister Rivas,» came a glutinous whisper that echoed among the canal arches. «So good of you to come.» And Rivas realized that this must be his host, Norton Jaybush himself, Lord of Irvine and Venice.
Rivas remembered the drink in his hand, and took a sip of it. It was tequila all right, and the peppery bite of it was reassuring, evidence that a sane world did still exist somewhere outside. «Mister Jaybush, I think,» he said loudly; but when his voice echoed back at him he realized that he could speak in a conversational tone and still be heard throughout the enormous chamber—evidently the place had been built with acoustics in mind. «Or should I say Mister Sevatividam? High time we met.» Cool, he thought with some cautious satisfaction. Very cool.
One of the gondolas swept up to the dock, and the boatman's pole flexed as he brought the boat to a halt. With a smile, Rivas solicitously took Sister Sue's elbow as if to help her aboard, but she smiled back—with such joyful malice that his smile became a wince—and said, «You first, brother.»
The boatman held the gondola steady while Rivas maneuvered himself and his drink into it, and then Sister Sue swung in behind him. She prodded his back with something hard, and said cheerfully, «The Lord wants you alive, so I won't shoot to kill—but if you want to mess around, I'll be happy to ruin your elbow.»
«I'm sure it'd get you all excited,» Rivas agreed.
Again the gondolier flexed the long pole against the pool wall, and the little boat surged smoothly out onto the face of the water. They passed a raft of diners, and Rivas glanced at them curiously. They were an oddly mixed lot—some were just filthy Blood freaks that somebody had dressed up in tinfoil hats and red monkey jackets, but others had the narrow faces and elegant dinner clothes of aristocracy—but for some reason the faces of all the alert ones wore expressions of alarm as they returned Rivas's stare.
Though he was keeping his face twisted in a smile that he hoped looked more confident than nervous, he was estimating how many ways there might be to get out of here. Somehow the idea of drawing his knife and using Jaybush as a hostage didn't seem feasible; the man was far too fat to be moved readily, and touching him would probably subject one to an unsought dose of the sacrament. Sue, and no doubt others too, had guns, so swimming back to the dock entrance was out. But these arches obviously connected this lagoon to the canals outside. It might be possible to swim out through one of them.
And in through one of the eastern arches a thing came swimming, several yards under the water's surface, its big eyes peering at the wobbling patches of light overhead. !t paused, its head turning on its stalk neck as it scanned the many rafts up there.
The gondola was nearing Jaybush's raft, and Rivas reluctantly met the gaze of his host. The man's eyes were nearly hidden in folds of fat, but Rivas could see mild humor in them, as though Jaybush was finding tonight's proceedings tolerably amusing. A parent attending a school play, thought Rivas.
«You've learned some things, sir,» Jaybush rumbled. «But be careful. Knowledge is a toxin. Why, just the fact of your having spoken my true name means that quite a number of these people must die tonight.» A smile widened the huge pumpkin head as Jaybush looked around at the many rafts. Rivas was a little surprised that none of the diners did anything more than look unhappy at this news.
The gondola bumped up alongside the raft. «Out you go, brother,» said Sister Sue.
Rivas finished his drink, leaned out and set the glass down on the wooden surface of the raft, and then managed to follow it without falling into the water. He crouched awkwardly on the raft, hoping that everyone couldn't see how it made him tremble to be this close to the thing called Jaybush.
There was, he could see now, a submerged chair hung below each of the round holes cut in Jaybush's raft. «Do please be seated,» his host told him.
«Uh . . . right. Thanks.» Rivas lowered himself into one, now feeling ridiculous as well as scared. The water was cold.
Sister Sue climbed out of the gondola with effortless agility and slithered into another hole across the raft from him. Her smile was as sunny as ever, and she held an automatic pistol with relaxed familiarity.
Jaybush, bobbing in the big central hole like some disagreeable centerpiece, beamed at him. «Well!» said the Messiah. «As you say, it is high time we met. I believe, in fact, sir, that you know me better than anyone else does. A number of people have taken both Blood and the sacrament, but you are the very first, I believe, to have developed procedures to shield yourself from their effects! Even in,» he paused to wink ponderously, «other places, no one ever attained the insight into my nature that you have.»
Rivas grinned unhappily, for he'd just recognized an important reason for his having accepted the invitation– to show off. He had wanted to let this interstellar limpet eel know that he had indeed learned its secrets. If he had simply ignored the invitation and gone back to Ellay, not only would Uri be doomed, but Sevatividam would think Rivas hadn't been bright enough to figure the invitation out.
«Do you see the men with rifles on the small rafts around the pool's periphery?» Jaybush went on. «They are, like the jaybush you encountered at the Cerritos Stadium, deaf. Not for the same reason, but just so that, in case the very direst sort of secrets are revealed here tonight, requiring the deaths of all hearers except myself and conceivably you, I won't be left unattended.» He caught Rivas's glance at Sister Sue. «Yes, my boy,» Jaybush said, «even our dear Sister Sue will have to die if certain things are spoken aloud.»
Sister Sue's smile didn't falter.
Rivas discovered that he was not tempted to shout, for example, He's a psychic vampire from outer space! . . . and he thought he caught a glint of surprise in her eyes.
«And,» said Jaybush, «since you have learned such an unprecedented amount about me, I'm going to make an unprecedented offer to you.» He was smiling—everybody at the table was smiling—and Rivas couldn't tell if he really did have some kind of offer to make or was simply playing with him. God, the man was fat! «I want you to join me,» Jaybush said.
«Merge with the Lord?» Rivas asked drily.
«No, not merge with—link with. I'm sure you've often seen people with undeveloped twins attached to or imbedded in their bodies. I'm offering you the opportunity to become such an appendage—psychic rather than physical, of course—to me.» He chuckled. «And another five or six of our guests have become dead people.»