"To die?" he said.
"Well, we must accept the inevitable, Jherek."
"To be called by my first name! You do not know, Amelia, how happy you make me!"
"There seemed no further point in refusing you the true expression of my feelings, since we have such a short time together."
"We have eternity!"
"In one sense, possibly. But all are agreed that the city must soon perish."
As if to deny her words, a steady throbbing began to pulse beneath their feet. It had strength and signified the presence of considerable energy, while the glow from the surrounding ruins suddenly took on a healthier colour, a sort of bright blue.
"There! The city recovers!" Jherek exclaimed.
"No. Merely the appearance of recovery which always precedes death."
"What is that golden light over there?" He pointed beyond a line of still rotating cylinders. "It is like sunshine, Amelia!"
They began to run towards the source of the light. Soon they could see clearly what lay ahead.
"The city's last illusion," said Jherek. They were both overawed, for the vision was so simple yet so much at odds with its surroundings. It was a little grassy glade, full of wild flowers, warm and lovely in the sun, covering a space of only thirty feet or so, yet perfect in every detail, with butterflies, bees, and a bird perching in a delicate elm. They could hear the bird singing. They could smell the grass.
Hand in hand, they stepped into the illusion.
"It is as if the city's memory conjures up a final image of Earth at her loveliest," said Amelia. "A sort of monument."
They seated themselves on a hillock. The ruins and the livid lights were still plainly visible, but they were able to ignore them.
Mrs. Underwood pointed a little way ahead to where a red and white chequered cloth had been spread on the grass, under the tree. On the cloth were plates, flasks, fruits, a pie. "Should we see if the picnic is edible?"
"In a moment." He leaned back and breathed the air. Perhaps the scent of hyacinths he had detected earlier had come from here.
"It cannot last," she reminded him. "We should take advantage of it while we may." She stretched herself, so that her head lay in his lap. He stroked her hair and her cheek. He stroked her neck. She breathed deeply and luxuriously, her eyes closed as she listened to the insects, feeling the warmth of that invisible, non-existent sun upon her skin. "Oh, Jherek…"
"Amelia." He bent his head and kissed her tenderly upon the lips for the second time since they had come to the city, and without hesitation she responded, and his touch upon her bared shoulder, her waist, only made her cling to him the closer and kiss him more deeply.
"I am like a young girl," she said, after a while. "It is as it should have been."
He was baffled by this reference, but he did not question her. He merely said: "Now that you have called me by my first name, Amelia, does that mean that we are married, that we can…"
She shook her head sadly. "We can never — never be husband and wife. Not now."
"No?"
"No, Jherek, dear. It is too late for that."
"I see." Wistfully, he pulled up a blade of grass.
"The divorce, you see, has not taken place. And no ceremony binds us. Oh, there is much I could explain, but let us not waste the minutes we have."
"These — these conventions. They are important enough to deny us the expression of our love?"
"Oh, do not mistake me, my dear. I know now that those conventions are not universal — that they have no usefulness here — but you forget — for years I have obeyed them. I cannot, in my own self, rebel against them in so short a time. As it is, I quell a tide of guilt that threatens to flood through me."
"Guilt, again?"
"Yes, dearest. If I went so suddenly against my training, I suspect that I should break down completely. I should not be the Amelia Underwood you know!"
"Yet, if there were more time…"
"Oh, I know that eventually I should have been able to overcome the guilt … That is the awful irony of it all!"
"It is ironic," he agreed. He rose, helping her to her feet. "Let us see what the picnic can offer us."
The song of the bird (it was some sort of macaw) continued to sound from the tree as they approached the red and white chequered cloth, but another noise began to break through, a sort of shrilling which was familiar to both of them. Then, bursting from the gloom of the city into the sunlight of the illusion, Captain Mubbers, Rokfrug and the other Lat appeared. They were badly out of breath and sweating; they had something of the appearance of bright red, animated turnips. Their three pupils rolled wildly in their eyes as they sighted Jherek and Amelia and came to a confused halt.
"Mibix?" said Rokfrug, recognizing Jherek. "Drexim flug roodi?"
"You are still, I take it, pursued by the police." Amelia was impatient, more than cool towards the intruders, "There is nowhere to hide here."
"Hrunt krufroodi." Captain Mubbers glanced behind him as there came a thundering of boots and the dozen identically clad police officers, evidently as weary as the Lat, burst into the pastoral illusion, paused, blinked, and began to advance towards their quarry, whereupon Captain Mubbers uttered a strangled "Ferkit!" and turned at bay, ready to do battle against their overwhelming numbers.
"Oh, really!" cried Amelia Underwood. "Officer, this will not do!" She addressed the nearest policeman.
The policeman said steadily: "You're all under arrest. You might as well come quietly."
"You intend to arrest us, as well?" Mrs. Underwood bridled.
"Strictly speakin', ma'am, you've been under arrest from the start. All right, lads…" But he hesitated when two loud popping noises sounded, close together, and Lord Jagged of Canaria, the Iron Orchid upon his arm, materialized on the hillock.
Lord Jagged was resplendent in his favourite pale yellow robes, his tall collar framing his patrician features. He seemed in high spirits. The Iron Orchid, at her most stately and beautiful, wore billowing white of an untypical cut and was as happy as her escort.
"At last!" said Lord Jagged, apparently in some relief, "This must be the fiftieth attempt!"
"The forty-ninth, indefatigable Jagged," crooned the Orchid. "I intended to give up on the fiftieth."
Jherek ran towards his friend and his mother. "Oh, Jagged! Cryptic, magnificent, darling Jagged! We have worried about you so much! And Iron Orchid, you are delicious. Where, where have you been?"
The kiss from Jagged's lips on Jherek's was less than chaste and was equalled by the Iron Orchid's. Standing back from them, Mrs. Underwood permitted herself a sniff, but came forward reluctantly as the radiant Orchid beckoned.
"My dears, you will be so delighted by our news! But you seem distraught. What has been happening to you?"
"Well," said Mrs. Underwood with some pleasure, "we are currently under arrest, although the charge is not altogether clear."
"You seem to have a penchant, you two, for falling foul of the law," said Jagged, casting a languid eye over the company. "It's all right, constable. I think you know who I am."
The leading constable saluted, but stood his ground. "Yes, sir," he said uncertainly. "Though we do 'ave orders, direct from the 'Ome Secretary…"
"The Home Secretary, constable, takes his advice from me, as no doubt you are aware…"
"I 'ad 'eard something to that effect, sir." He fingered his chin. "What about these Latvians?"
Lord Jagged shrugged. "I don't think they offer a threat to the Crown any longer."
Jherek Carnelian was overjoyed by his friend's performance. "Excellent, dear Jagged! Excellent!"