"Children's toys. Mathematical novelties to illustrate natural and scientific law."
The voice had come from behind him. He turned. A door stood open in one of the angles of the pentagon, dim illumination showing a wide bed, a mirror, a table loaded with vials. The woman standing in the opening was almost as tall as himself, hair a dark waterfall streaming to below her shoulders, a thin robe caught just under the breasts with a golden band. She stepped forward, naked feet graced with laced sandals, the movement accentuating the long curves of her thighs. Her face was that of a young and beautiful woman.
"I am Mada Grist." Her hand rose, gold shining from the nails. "Do you remember me?"
"We met on the train." Dumarest caught the proffered hand and lifted it to his lips, feeling the softness and warmth of the olive skin. "It seems, my lady, that I owe you my life."
"You acknowledge the debt?"
"Yes, my lady."
"My name is Mada. You will please me by using it." She moved from the open door of the bedroom and crossed to where a wide, padded bench stood against one of the walls. "You will find wine in that cabinet. Serve us both."
It was held in a jar of frosted glass cut to a mathematical form. The glasses rose like flowers from a solid base. The wine was tart and refreshing to the tongue, scented with a delicate odor and bright with drifting bubbles.
"From Hardish," she said. "They have a knack with wine. Have you been there?"
"No, my lady."
"Mada," she reminded. "There is no need for us to be formal, Earl." Her eyes smiled at his expression. "Yes, I know your name and a little about you. There are techniques known to our medical science which can gather knowledge from a sleeping brain. Earl Dumarest," she mused. "A traveler. A man with a quest." Her voice grew wistful. "Does finding this planet mean so much to you?"
"It does." His voice was guarded. Guessing the reason, she laughed.
"Don't be so wary, Earl. We could only skim your mind and gather information you were willing to give. Your secrets are safe. I would not have ordered the violation of your privacy but certain matters made it urgent that I learn something of the truth." She emptied her glass and held it to be refilled. "That you were not a spy. That you are not an enemy of Technos. That you owe loyalty to none."
"Mada?"
"Never mind." Taking the replenished glass she drank half the contents at a gulp. "Serious matters can come later. For now tell me something of yourself. You have traveled, that I know. Far? To the Center?"
"To the Center and beyond," he said, remembering. How many ships, journeys, worlds? How much time spent traveling Low or riding High? Biologically he was still fairly young but chronologically the years had mounted and, in one respect, he was very old. In experience, the only time scale which held any real meaning. And Mada?
The light was dim, the contours of her face blurred with shadow, but her body was young and appealed to him with primitive attraction. Thoughtfully he sipped at his wine. She was high in this society, that was obvious, and possibly bored and eager for excitement. Often such women sought it in the company of strangers, titillated by novelty, intrigued by the attraction of the unknown.
Was that why she had saved him, had him healed and, when he was wholly fit, brought to her apartments in the palace?
He lowered the glass, conscious of danger. Such a woman could have jealous guardians quick to hire an assassin to cleanse the honor of their house.
"You are somber," she said. "Why?"
Bluntly he told her.
"Assassins?" Her laughter was strained. "No, Earl. That is the least you have to fear. Technos is not a primitive culture with a proud nobility and formal ways. And I have no husband, no lover, none who would object to any liaison I may make." Again she held out her glass for it to be replenished. "You have known many women?"
"A few."
"Now you are being discreet. I would venture to guess that many women have found you attractive. Have you never thought of marrying? Of settling down?"
"Yes."
"And what happened? Why didn't you?" The wine, she realized, was going to her head, and its aphrodisiacal qualities accentuated the desire burning her flesh. "What happened Earl? Why hasn't some woman claimed you for her own?"
"Fate, my lady," he said quietly. "Death and unfortunate circumstances."
"And you don't want to talk about it," she said quickly. "I understand." Her hand rested on his own, the long fingers caressing the flesh, halting as they rested on the ring he wore on the third finger of his left hand. "And this? A gift?"
"Yes, my lady."
Her voice was sharp. "From a woman?"
"Yes," said Dumarest, and added, "she is gone. It was some time ago."
"Dead?"
"You would call it that."
"I'm glad." she said. "I would not like to have to share you." Fabric rustled as she turned to him, taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside. "Now," she whispered. "I have waited too long. Now!"
* * *
A lamp burned in the center of the groined roof, its wash of kaleidoscopic colors turning the chamber into a vault of mystery, swathes of red and yellow, orange and blue, green and smoky amber drifting over the wide bed, his naked body, the furnishings of the apartment. Dumarest stared at it, lying supine, his eyes half closed against its hypnotic compulsion. From beyond a door came the sound of rushing water, a shower where the woman laved her body, but even there the light was dim.
Shadows, he thought, and strangeness. The burning demands of a young and nubile body but the face had remained almost totally serene. Only the eyes had reflected the passion and, when he had tried to caress her cheek, she had prevented it, holding his hand, guiding it to the soft contours of her body.
A mask? It was more than possible, but if so it was the product of a master. She had smiled and sighed and pursed her lips for his kiss. Drifting shadows of changing color had blurred all detail and mounting passion had taken care of the rest. But now, with passion spent, there was time for thought.
"Earl."
He rose as she came from the bathroom. The robe was once again adorning her body, the hair falling neatly to her shoulders, the graceful feet enhanced by the sandals.
"Bathe," she said, "and dress. We have much to discuss."
She watched as he moved toward the shower, feeling again the strength of his arms, the joy he had given. Perturbed she went to a cabinet, opened it, selected a drug from assembled vials. Somehow she must control the rebellious reactions of her body. He had slaked her desire but still the yearning remained. It must be crushed if she was to remain in control of the situation.
The drug quieted her so that she was calm when he joined her in the pentagonal chamber. She poured them both wine, a different vintage from that they had drunk before, handing him a goblet and sitting so as to face him.
"To health," she said. "To the achievement of heart's desire."
Dumarest drank to the toast.
"Love," she said. "Another name for the chemical reaction occurring between the sexes. A romantic definition of the urge to procreate. You agree?"
"My lady, I-"