‘What can I get you, friend?’
‘I’d like a meal of fresh vegetables and a bottle of pure water.’
The waitress looked at him strangely. She seemed about to say something, but changed her mind. She nodded towards the Minstrel Boy.
‘How about him? Does he want anything?’
‘You could bring him some brandy.’
The waitress nodded, and then smiled sideways at Jeb Stuart Ho.
‘You wouldn’t maybe like a little, uh, companionship, perhaps?’
Jeb Stuart Ho hesitated. He had had no sexual contact with either man or woman since he had left the temple. The prospect seemed wholly inviting. Both the men and the women were extremely pleasing. There was his task, though. He was sure the brotherhood and his teachers would expect him to remain celibate until it was complete. He sighed and shook his head.
‘Regretfully, I think not.’
The girl shrugged.
‘Suit yourself.’
She went away, and after a short while came back with the order. As she leaned over to place it on the table, Jeb Stuart Ho was treated to an uninterrupted view of her breasts. He felt a stab of remorse at his decision to remain temporarily celibate. After she’d moved on, he pushed the brandy glass in front of the Minstrel Boy.
‘Here, I ordered a drink for you.’
The Minstrel Boy’s eyes were glazed. He appeared to hear and see nothing. It was as though he was in some other place. Jeb Stuart Ho started as a wheezing chuckle came from behind him.
‘He’ll not drink anything.’
Jeb Stuart Ho turned round carefully, and found the old man was grinning at him crookedly. He was a strange figure. The top of his head was bald, but long white hair cascaded down his back. His beard was of equal length. His face was lined and weatherbeaten, and the long shapeless robe that he wore had been washed, bleached, patched and darned until it was a uniform off-white. The most compelling thing about him, however, was his eyes. They were small and black and peered out from behind bushy eyebrows like those of a lizard, a lizard whose sense of humour was the only thing that saved it from being a venomous cynic. He picked up a stout polished staff, almost as tall as himself, from where it was leaning against the wall, and moved to Jeb Stuart Ho’s table.
‘He’ll not touch the brandy, or anything else, until he pulls out of what you’ve done to him.’
Jeb Stuart Ho tensed. He arranged himself in his chair so he could instantly move in any direction. He looked evenly at the old man.
‘You know what’s been done to him?’
The old man’s mouth twisted into a sneer.
‘I’ve a pretty fair idea. You’ve filled him up with cyclatrol or some such gunk, and there’s no point in you sitting there like a cat ready to jump. I’ll not harm you. Much as I might like to. The only thing I’m wondering is why you did it. I’m wondering what you’re after.’
Jeb Stuart Ho was taken aback at the amount of information the old man seemed to have. He did his best to maintain his composure.
‘You seem to know a lot about my affairs.’
‘I just watch and figure. Right now I’m figuring what you’re up to.’
Jeb Stuart Ho smiled a deceptively sweet smile. He was aware that he might have to kill the prattling old man if he began to endanger his mission.
‘And what do you figure I’m up to, old man?’
‘I figure you’re hunting someone. That’s about the only thing that’ll bring you black murdering vultures out of your damn temple. I figure you’re out for a hit, and you’ve filled the poor boy here with cyclatrol to get a fix on your victim.’
‘Your talk could be dangerous, old man.’
The old man nodded towards the Minstrel Boy.
‘When I was his age, I might have been afraid of you, but now I’m too old. Even he seeks a temporary death in oblivion every opportunity he gets. Maybe life’s the only thing to be afraid of these days.’
Jeb Stuart Ho was definitely ill at ease. He glanced at the Minstrel Boy, and then back at the old man.
‘You know him?’
The old man laughed.
‘The Minstrel Boy. Aye, you could say our paths have crossed.’
‘Who are you?’
‘They call me the Wanderer.’
‘And what do you do, Wanderer?’
‘I wander round from place to place. I watch and figure.’
‘And you know where you are?’
‘Don’t get any ideas.’
‘But you do know where you are?’
The Wanderer sighed.
‘Aye, I do, but not as good as a lizard, and not as good as him.’
He nodded towards the Minstrel Boy.
‘I was never as good as him. Perhaps that’s why I lived so long.’
Jeb Stuart Ho was about to ask another question, when the Minstrel Boy twitched. His eyes focused, and his mouth opened.
‘Quahal.’
His voice was a hoarse croak.
‘Quahal.’
Jeb Stuart Ho grasped his arm.
‘Quahal.’
‘What?’
The Minstrel Boy didn’t answer. His eyes glazed over again. He became rigid. Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the Wanderer.
‘What did he say?’
The Wanderer’s eye twinkled.
‘He said Quahal.’
‘What is Quahal?’
‘Don’t they teach you anything inside your precious temple?’
Jeb Stuart Ho’s face darkened.
‘What is Quahal?’
‘It’s a place. I figure your quarry must have fetched up there. Is it a man or a woman?’
‘What difference does it make?’
The Wanderer laughed.
‘In Quahal it makes a difference.’
‘Why? What is this place?’
‘You want to know about Quahal, do you?’
‘I’d be grateful for any information you could give me.’
‘Grateful, even? Well, I suppose I can’t do no harm, except of course to help you kill this poor soul.’
‘She only has to die to save many more lives.’
‘Says you.’
‘The brotherhood’s projections have a very low factor of error.’
The Wanderer grunted.
‘That’s as maybe. It’s too much like men playing god for me.’
Jeb Stuart Ho grew impatient.
‘Will you tell me about Quahal?’
The Wanderer nodded.
‘Aye, I’ll tell. If you promise to keep quiet, and not interrupt.’
Jeb Stuart Ho smiled.
‘You have my word.’
‘Your word, even. Right, then. I’ll tell you the story of Quahal. Like most things, it started back in the days when things broke up. That was just after Stuff Central got going, and we were supposed to have reached Utopia, although not many people like to connect those two facts any more. Anyhow, the nothings came, and the disruptors began to break up the land, and you couldn’t trust gravity or nothing any more. People began grabbing anything they could hang on to, stabilize and live on. Everyone had a different idea about why things had gone so wrong. There was this particular brother and sister called Alamada and Joachim Hesse. They decided all the trouble was due to technology and the only way to live was in a primitive, natural world. As their home started to melt away, they got Stuff Central to set one up for them. They had a huge great stasis generator installed, stabilized a stretch of place, had it landscaped, a nice misty, wild mountain and a fertile river valley, and moved in. You’ll notice, incidentally, that they weren’t averse to a bit of technology creating and maintaining this Garden of Eden. At my age, I really ought to stop expecting people to be consistent. Anyway, they had some plants and animals beamed in, and then people. The people were specially DNA tailored to suit Alamada’s and Joachim’s fantasies, and programmed to do exactly what was expected of them. Everything was set up. They called the place Quahal and settled down to the simple life.’