"Who?" Ash asked, nodding in her direction.
"A client, like yourself. No, not like yourself," I said.
"Is she married?" he whispered.
"Widowed," I said. "Would you like an introduction?"
"Please."
"Now the money I gave you should last about a week," Adam was saying. "If it doesn't, just come back here whenever you need more. As a matter of fact, it would probably be a good idea for you to check in here every day, anyhow. That way we can deal with your questions as they arise. I wish I could spare the personnel to escort—"
I cleared my throat.
"Ursula Shipton," I said, "I would like to introduce Mr. Ashton Ash."
He reached forward and took her hand, bowed slightly and raised it to his lips. "I overheard somewhat of your instructions," he said, "and I would be happy to serve as your escort for so long as you choose—starting, perhaps, with lunch."
"Why, thank you," she said, glancing at Adam and at me, "Mr. Ash."
"Just Ash," he said.
"In that case, there are several things you ought to know," I told him. "The lady is from the sixteenth century. This is the distant future to her."
"I understand," he said, "being from a different period myself, even if it is only sixty years down the line."
"Do you know contemporary Rome well enough to show her around?" Adam asked.
"Oh yes. I used your establishment as a Tube stop for some time," he said, "before I got up nerve to consult you on my problem. I'd slink out and explore. And I usually hit this period. I could show her the future version as well as the present one if—"
"I've already seen the future version," she said. "In fact, I've already seen this one. I prefer this one and will probably want to live and conduct my affairs here. I would like to see some of the things close-up, of course."
Adam nodded. Ash conducted her to the door. "I'll give you that close-up view," he said.
"And I'll protect you while you're about it," she told him. "I'll point out the bad neighborhoods as we come to them."
Ash gave me a puzzled look and I smiled and nodded. "She's got a very good left," I explained.
When they were gone Adam laughed. "We could open a dating service, you know," he said. "I can think of some very interesting matches from different eras—"
"Forget it," Glory said. "Do favors, but stick to essentials."
"I suppose you're right."
"What did it take to get her looking that way?" I asked.
"Mostly soap and water," he replied, "and a once through the hair, face, and body parlor—for nothing she couldn't have gotten downtown. And a run by the instant garments unit."
"Cheap date," I said. "You're knocking off that list nicely. What kind of body you going to use for the Iddroid?"
"Cagliostro suggested one of the standard android models," he replied. "With everything it will have going for it, though, it should be able to modify itself easily, even beyond the physical."
"It does sound dangerous."
"To be bold is to incur risk."
"What are you going to do with the thing once you've got it?"
"I have major plans, but I'll have to discuss them with Cagliostro."
"I thought you were doing this for him—because it's a snappy project."
"True. But I'd anticipated it. I just didn't have the formula myself. He walked in with it at the right time."
"What if he doesn't like your ideas?"
"He is a reasonable man."
"Let us hope."
"And now, about that long-term memory for you. I say it's time. What do you think?"
"Agree," I said. "You've had me curious for so long that I'm ready to give it a shot. Proust, you say? You've got stuff there from that whole crowd?"
"Oh yes. I gave Charlus—the real Charlus, that is, the Comte de Montesquiou-Ferensac—the temporary orientation for his affair with Sarah Bernhardt, though afterwards he said he'd never do anything like that again. A very demanding woman. Later, Montesquieu wanted some piety. Did you know that he also served Huysmans as the model for Des Esseintes in A Rebours? Robert Montesquieu was a man of no particular talent who thus managed a double literary achievement of sorts, and a minor theatrical one. I—"
I was distracted by the appearance of a woman in the foyer at his back. And not just any woman, but one of the loveliest I'd ever seen. She was tall and lithe, with skin the color of dark smoke. She had a mane of natural-looking white hair with black streaks which fell halfway down her back. Her ears were pointed and silver hoops hung in them. Her nails were black and also pointed, her chin small, brow wide. She had on a black cloak over an inches-wide spiral of black material which covered her strategically and seemed to spiral about her at the same time. The cloak's clasp and the anklet above her left foot were of silver. She fixed Glory with her yellow eyes and raised a finger to her lips. Glory nodded slightly. I shivered when she met my gaze and repeated the gesture.
Then she moved, without making a sound, advancing upon Adam's back.
"... And Robert Haas, the original for Swann," Adam was saying. "He was the nicest guy in the crowd—"
Suddenly the lady vanished. For a moment, I thought she knew the mini-teleportation trick. Then I realized that she had dropped to all fours. She arched her back, and then she lowered it, crouching.
Then she pounced. But even as she did, he was turning, smiling. He caught her in his arms and was borne over backwards by her. Moments later, they were rolling all over the floor making sounds like alley cats.
I moved nearer to Glory and looked at her. "What's going on?" I asked.
"The lady is Prandha Rhadi—'Prandy' for short," she explained. "She's his old girlfriend. They've had this on-and-off thing down the centuries." She crossed to the niche and threw the Switch. "Hate to have a customer come in just now." Adam and Prandy were both on all fours now and seemed at this point to be spitting at each other.
"Are they just being emotional, or would all these sounds happen to be their language?" I asked.
"Both," she replied. "Really, I thought we'd seen the last of her around World War One."
"You don't approve?"
"Of course I approve. It's hard to meet a cat girl around here. It's just that he's always so sad when they break up."
"Maybe they won't break up this time."
"We'll see."
She made a gesture toward the stairway with her eyes. It seemed a good idea and I followed her. At my back there was a rapid exchange of slow, half-growled, half-hissed sounds. Before I reached the top of the stair these were punctuated by several higher-pitched exclamations or statements.
Upstairs, we closed the door to Glory's room behind us. By then, the sounds of movement had recommenced below.
"What's their story?" I asked, as we both sprawled for a moment on the big bed.
"They met a very long time ago in the distant future/' Glory said. "They hit it off very well, too. Then one day they learned that they were each other's designated mates, for purposes of preserving the Kaleideion genes. It seemed one of those cases of really enjoying something until someone tells you you have to do it. Immediately, some spark went out of the romance. Or the whole thing was a powder keg and the spark was ignited. Either way, they quarreled. Now, Adam hadn't told her about this project—the Luogo Nero— and he simply took off shortly thereafter."
"A moment," I said. "Surely they could simply have donated a few cells to the project and continued just as they were."