The plain gasped, gave way and became a mile-wide pit.
"I think I'd better make a new air-car," said the Duke of Queens, coming to a sudden halt.
Harold Underwood crossed to the lip of the pit and stared down. He scratched his hay-coloured hair, disturbing the parting. "So there's another level, at least," he mused. "I suppose one should be relieved." He made to investigate further but did not demur when his wife gently drew him back.
The Duke of Queens was twisting all his rings. "Do our rings not work in the city itself?" he asked Jherek.
"I can't remember."
At their backs a building silently burst. They watched the debris float by overhead. Jherek noticed that all their skins now had a mottled, glossy appearance, like mother-of-pearl. He moved closer to Amelia, who still clutched her husband (the only member of the party who seemed serene). They began to move away from the pit, skirting the city proper.
" It is rare that the city's power is overtaxed ," said Harold Underwood's rocky confidante. " Who could need such energy ?"
"You know what is causing this upheaval, then?" Jherek enquired of it.
" No, no. A conversion problem, perhaps. Who can say? You could try the central philosophy department. Except I believe I am all that is left of it. Unless I am the whole of it. Who is to say which is a fragment and which the whole? And is the whole contained in every fragment or a fragment in the whole, or are whole and fragment different, not in terms of size or capacity, but in essential qualities…? "
Regretting his impoliteness, Jherek continued on past the rock. "It would be wonderful to discuss these points," he apologized, "but my friends…"
"The circle is the circle," Harold Underwood said. "We shall be back again, no doubt. Farewell, for the moment." Humming to himself, he allowed Jherek and Amelia to lead him off.
" Indeed, indeed. The nature of reality is such that nothing can, by definition, be unreal, if it exists, and since anything can exist if it can be conceived of, then all that we say is unreal is therefore real… "
"Its arguments are sometimes very poor," Harold Underwood said in an undertone, as if apologizing. "I do not believe that it has quite the authority it claims. Well, well, well, who would have believed that Dante, a Catholic, could have been so accurate, after all!" He smiled at them. "But then, I suppose, we must forget these sectarian differences now. Damnation certainly broadens the mind, eh?"
Mrs. Underwood gasped. "Was that a joke, Harold?"
He beamed.
Something alive, perhaps an animal, ran swiftly across their path and into the heart of the city.
"We are at the edge," said the Duke of Queens. "Yet nothing but blackness seems to exist beyond. Perhaps it is some optical trick? A malfunctioning force-screen?"
"No," said Jherek, who was ahead of him. "The city still sheds a little light. I can see — but it is a wasteland."
"There is no sun." Amelia peered forward. "There are no stars. That is what it is."
"The planet is dead, do you mean?" The Duke of Queens joined them. "Yes, it is a desert out there. What can have become of our friends?"
"I suppose it is too late to say that I, of course, forgive you everything, Amelia," Harold Underwood said suddenly.
"What, Harold?"
"It does not matter now. You were, of course, this man's mistress. You did commit adultery. It is why you are both here."
With some reluctance, Amelia Underwood withdrew her gaze from the lifeless landscape. She was frowning.
"I was right, was I not?" her husband continued.
Dazed, she glanced from Jherek Carnelian to Harold Underwood. Jherek was turning, a bemused half-smile on his lips.
She gestured helplessly. "Harold, is this the time…?"
"She loves me," said Jherek.
"Mr. Carnelian!"
"And you are his mistress?" Harold Underwood put a gentle hand to her face. "I do not accuse you, Amelia."
She gave a deep sigh and tenderly touched her husband's wrist. "Very well, Harold. In spirit, yes. And I do love him."
"Hurrah!" cried Jherek. "I knew. I knew! Oh, Amelia. This is the happiest day of my life."
The others all turned to stare at them. Even the Duke of Queens seemed shocked.
And from somewhere in the sky overhead a booming voice, full of gloomy satisfaction, shouted:
"I told you so. I told you all. See — it is the end of the world!"
17. Some Confusion Concerning the Exact Nature of the Catastrophe
The large, black egg-shaped air-boat containing, in an indentation at the top, Lord Mongrove settled to the ground nearby. A look of profound and melancholy gratification lay upon the giant's heavy features. In robes of funereal purple he stepped from the boat, his right hand drawing their attention to the desolation beyond the city, where not even a wind whispered or stirred the barren dust to a semblance of vitality.
"It has all gone," intoned Mongrove. "The cities no longer sustain our follies. They can barely sustain themselves. We are the last survivors of humanity — and there is some question as to whether we shall continue to exist for much longer. Well, at least most of the time-travellers have been returned and the space-travellers given ships, for all the good it will do them. Yusharisp and his people did their best, but they could have done much more, Duke of Queens, if you had not been so foolish as to trap them for your menagerie…"
"I wanted to surprise you," said the Duke somewhat lamely. He was unable to take his eyes away from the desolation. "Do you mean that it's completely lifeless out there?"
"The cities are oases in the desert that is our Earth," Mongrove confirmed. "The planet itself crumbles imminently."
Jherek felt Mrs. Underwood's hand seeking his. He took it, grasping it firmly. She smiled bravely up at him.
The Duke continued to fiddle with his useless power-rings. "I must say one feels a certain sense of loss," he said, half to himself. "Is My Lady Charlotina gone? And Bishop Castle? And Sweet Orb Mace? And Argonheart Po? And Lord Shark the Unknown?"
"Everyone, save those here."
"Werther de Goethe?"
"Werther, too."
"A shame. He would have enjoyed this scene so much."
"Werther flirts with Death no longer. Death grew impatient. Death took him, perforce." Lord Mongrove uttered a great sigh. "I am meeting Yusharisp and the others here, shortly. We shall know, then, how much longer we have."
"Our time is limited, then?" said Mrs. Underwood.
"Probably."
"Gord!" said Inspector Springer, upon whom the import of Mongrove's words was just beginning to dawn. "What bad luck!" He removed his bowler again. "I suppose there's no chance at all of getting back now? You wouldn't 'ave seen a large time-machine about, eh? We were 'ere on official business…"
"Nothing exists beyond the cities," Mongrove reiterated. "I believe your time-travelling colleague was prevailed upon to help in the general exodus. We thought you dead, you see."
For an instant, at their backs, the city shrieked, but subsided quickly. Scarlet clouds, like blood in water, swirled into the atmosphere. It was as if the city had been wounded.
"So he's returned…" continued Inspector Springer. "That's for sure, eh?"
"I regret that the evidence would suggest as much. If he was unlucky, he might have been caught up in the general destruction. It happened very quickly. Atoms, you know, dissipating. As our atoms will doubtless dissipate, eventually. As the city's will. And the planet's. Joining the universe."