Hableyat looked up blandly as Joe got to his feet. «If I were you, my friend, I think I would wait. At least another day. I doubt if as yet she has completely appreciated her own loneliness. I think that your appearance now, especially with that belligerent scowl on your face, would merely arouse her antagonism and she would class you with the rest of her enemies. Let her stew a day or so longer and then let her come upon you in the promenade–or the gymnasium, where I observe she spends an hour every day.»
Joe sank back on the couch. He said, «Hableyat, you mystify me.» Hableyat shook his head sadly. «Ah, but I am transparent.»
«First on Kyril, you save my life. Then you try to get me killed.»
«Only as a disagreeable necessity.»
«At times I think you're friendly, sympathetic–»
«But of course!»
«–just as now you read my mind and give me fatherly advice. But–I'm never quite sure just what you're saving me for. Just as the goose being fattened for pati de fois gras never understands the unstinting generosity of his master. Things aren't always what they seem.» He laughed shortly. «I don't suppose you'll tell me what slaughter you're fattening me for?»
Hableyat performed a gesture of polite confusion. «Actually I am not at all devious. I make no pretenses, screen myself with nothing but honesty. My regard for you is genuine–but, I agree, that regard does not prevent me from sacrificing you for a greater end. There is no contradiction. I separate my personal tastes and aversions from my work. And so you know all about me.»
«How do I know when you're working and when you're not?»
Hableyat threw out his hands. «It is a question not even I can answer.»
But Joe was not entirely dissatisfied. He sat back in the couch and Hableyat relaxed the band around his plump midriff.
«Life is very difficult at times,» said Hableyat, «and very improbable, very taxing.»
«Hableyat,» said Joe, «why don't you come back with me to Earth?»
Hableyat smiled. «I may well heed your suggestion– if the Redbranches defeat the Bluewaters in the Ampianu.»
X
Four days out from Junction, three days to Ballenkarch. Joe, leaning at the rail in the belly of the ship's promenade, heard a slow step along the composition. It was Elfane. Her face was pale and haunted, her eyes were large and bright. She stopped hesitantly beside Joe as if she were only pausing in her walk.
Joe said, «Hello,» and looked back to the stars.
By some subtlety of pose Elfane gave him to understand that she had definitely stopped, that she had joined him. She said, «You've been avoiding me–when I need someone to talk to the most.»
Joe said searchingly, «Elfane–have you ever been in love?»
Her face was puzzled. «I don't understand.»
Joe grunted. «Just an Earth abstraction. Whom do you mate with on Kyril?»
«Oh–persons who interest us, whom we like to be with, who make us conscious of our bodies.»
Joe turned back to the stars. «The subject is a little deep.»
Her voice was amused and soft. «I understand very well, Joe.»
He turned his head. She was smiling. Rich ripe lips, the passionate face, dark eyes holding an eagerness. He kissed her like a thirsty man drinking.
«Elfane...?»
«Yes?»
«On Ballenkarch–we'll turn around, head back for Earth. No more worry, no more plotting, no more death. There's so many places I want to show you–old places, old Earth, that's still so fresh and sweet.»
She moved in his arms. «There's my own world, Joe –and my responsibility.»
Tensely Joe said, «On Earth you'll see it as it is–a vile muck, as degrading to the Druids as it is miserable to the slaves.»
«Slaves? They serve the Tree of Life. We all serve the Tree of Life in our different ways.»
«The Tree of Death!»
Elfane disengaged herself without heat. «Joe–it's something which I can't explain to you. We're bound to the Tree. We are its children. You don't understand the great truth. There is one universe, with the Tree at the hub, and the Druids and the Laity serve the Tree, at bay to pagan space.
«Someday it will be different. All men will serve the Tree. We'll be born from the soil, we'll serve and work and finally give our lives into the Tree and become a leaf in the eternal light, each to his place. Kyril will be the goal, the holy place of the galaxy.»
Joe protested, «But you give this vegetable–an enormous vegetable but still a vegetable–you give this vegetable a higher place in your mind than you do humanity. On Earth we'd chop the thing up for stove wood. No, that's not true. We'd run a spiral runway around the thing, send excursion trips up and sell hot dogs and soda pop on the top. We'd use the thing, not let it hypnotize us by its bulk.»
She had not heard him. «Joe–you can be my lover. And we'll live our life on Kyril and serve the Tree and kill its enemies.» She stopped short, stunned by Joe's expression.
«That's no good–for either of us. I'll go back to Earth. You stay out here, find another lover to kill your enemies for you. And we'll each be doing what we want. But the other won't be included.»
She turned away, leaned on the rail, stared dismally out at the midship stars. Presently, «Were you ever in love with any other woman?»
«Nothing serious,» lied Joe. And, after a moment, «And you–have you had other lovers?»
«Nothing serious.»
Joe looked at her sharply but there was no trace of humor on her face. He sighed. Earth was not Kyril.
She said, «After we land on Ballenkarch what will you do?»
«I don't know–I haven't made up my mind. Certainly nothing to do with Druids and Mangs, I know that much. Trees and empires can all explode together so far as I'm concerned. I have problems of my own...» His voice dwindled, died.
He saw himself meeting Harry Creath. On Mars, with his mind full of Margaret–on Io, Pluto, Altair, Vega, Giansar, Polaris, Thuban, even as recently as Jamivetta and Kyril–he had been conscious of nothing quixotic, nothing ridiculous in his voyaging.
Now Margaret's image had begun to blur–but blurred as it was he heard the tinkling chime of her laugh.
With a sudden flush of embarrassment he knew that she would find a great deal of amusement in the tale of his venturings–as well as astonishment, incredulity and perhaps the faintest hint of scorn.
Elfane was regarding him curiously. He came back to the present. Strange, how solid and real she seemed in contrast to his thought-waifs. Elfane would find nothing amusing in a man roaming the universe for love of her. On the contrary she would be indignant if such were not the case.
«What will you do on Ballenkarch then?» she asked.
Joe rubbed his chin, stared out at the shifting stars. «I guess I'll look up Harry Creath.»
«And where will you look for him?»
«I don't know. I'll try the civilized continent first.»
«None of Ballenkarch is civilized.»
«The least barbarian continent, then!» said Joe patiently. «If I know Harry, he'll be in the thick of things.»
«And if he's dead?»
«Then I'll turn around and go home with my conscience clear.»
Margaret would say, «Harry dead?» And he saw the pert lift of her round chin. «In that case he loses by default. Take me, my chivalrous lover, sweep me away in your white spaceboat.»
He stole a glance at Elfane, became aware of a tart flowering incense she was wearing. Elfane was galvanic with life and thought and wonder. She took life and emotion seriously. Of course Margaret had a lighter touch, an easier laugh, was not intent on killing enemies of her religion. Religion? Joe laughed shortly. Margaret barely recognized the word.