The women linked arms and rose together into the air. "We go to Amelia," called back the Iron Orchid. "Shall you join us, Jherek?"
"In a moment."
He had only recently escaped the press of guests who flocked about his intended bride, for she was at the centre and all congratulated her on her creation, her costume, her comportment and if they spoke to him, it was to praise Amelia. And over there on the other island, she chattered, she was witty, she held them but — and he could define it no better — she was not his Amelia.
He turned, at the sound of a footfall, and it was the time-traveller, hands in pockets, looking quite as glum as he did himself. "Good afternoon to you, Jherek Carnelian. My Lady Charlotina passed on your invitation. Lord Mongrove brought me. This is all very fanciful. You must have journeyed further inland, during your stay in the Palaeozoic, than I realized."
"To the creek?"
"Beyond the creek there are landscapes very similar to this — wild and beautiful, you know. I assumed this to be a perverse version. Ah, to see again the rain falling through sunshine on a Palaeozoic morning, near the great waterfalls, with the ferns waving in a light wind which ripples the waters of the lake."
"You make me envious." Jherek stared at his reflection, distorted in the blood. "I sometimes regret our return, though I know now we should have starved."
"Nonsense. With decent equipment and a little intelligence one could live well in the Palaeozoic." The time-traveller smiled. "So long as one resisted the urge to swim in the creeks. That fish, by the by, is very tasty. Sweet, you know. Like a kind of ham."
"Um," said Jherek, looking towards the island where Amelia Underwood held court.
"It seems to me," murmured the time-traveller after a pause, "that all the romance has gone out of time-travel since I first began. I was one of the first, you know. Perhaps the very first."
"A pioneer," Jherek confirmed.
"Quite so. It would be a terrible irony indeed if I were to be marooned here, when your Lord Jagged puts his time-recycling plan into operation. I crossed eons, crossed the barriers between the worlds, and now I am threatened with being imprisoned forever in the same week, repeated over and over again, throughout eternity." He uttered something resembling a staccato snort. "Well, I shall not allow it. If I cannot get help with repairs to my craft, I shall risk the journey back and ask for the support of the British Government. It will be better than this."
"Brannart refuses his aid?"
"He is involved, I gather, in building a machine of his own. He refuses to accept Lord Jagged's theories or his solutions."
Jherek's smile was faint. "For thousands of years Brannart was the Lord of Time. His Effect was one of the few laws known to that imprecise science. Suddenly he is dethroned, without authority. It is no wonder that he became so agitated recently, that he still utters warnings. Yet there would be much he could continue to do. Your Guild would welcome his knowledge, would it not?"
"Possibly. He is not what I would call a true scientist. He imposes his imagination upon the facts, rather than using that imagination to investigate. It is probably not his fault, for you all do that, and with considerable success. In most cases you are in the position to alter all the Laws of Nature which, in my own time, were regarded as unalterable."
"I suppose that's so." Jherek saw more new arrivals heading for Amelia's island.
"Enviable, of course. But you have lost the scientific method. You solve problems by changing the facts. Magic, we'd call it."
"Very kind of you." Absently.
"Fundamentally different attitudes. Even your Lord Jagged is to some, extent infected."
"Infected?" He saw Argonheart Po's shortcake space-shuttle spiralling above the cliffs. It, too, made for the island which had his attention.
"I employed the word without criticism. But for someone like myself used to getting to grips with a problem by means of analytical method…"
"Naturally."
"Natural to me. I was trained to despise any other method."
"Aha." It was useless to hold himself in cheek any longer. He twisted a power-ring. He rose into the air. "Forgive me — social commitments — perhaps we'll have a chance to chat later."
"I say." said the time-traveller urgently, "you couldn't give me a lift, I suppose? I have no means of crossing…"
But Jherek was already out of earshot, leaving the time-traveller abjectly staring at the pink-flecked foam washing the rocking obsidian shore, stranded until some other guest arrived to help him to the mainland. Something black and somewhat phallic pushed itself above the surface of the crimson sea and stared at him, smacking its tiny lips before losing interest and swimming away in the direction Jherek had taken. Removing his hands from his pockets, the time-traveller turned, seeking the highest point of the island where, with luck, he would be safe from the beasts and be able to signal for help.
She was surrounded. Jherek could just see her head and shoulders at the centre of the crowd; she was struggling with a cigarette. In imitation, Sweet Orb Mace, all mauve fluff, puffed smoke from her ears, while Bishop Castle decorously swung his huge headdress back to avoid collision with the holder. The Iron Orchid, Mistress Christia, My Lady Charlotina and Werther de Goethe were closest to her and their words came to Jherek through the general babble.
"Even you, Amelia, would admit that the nineteenth century is rather passe…"
"Oh, but you have proven it, my love, with all this. It is so wonderfully original…"
"And yet so simple —"
"The best ideas, Mistress Christia, are always simple…"
"Truly, sweetest Orchid — the ones you wish you'd conceived yourself, but never did…"
"But serious , withal. If Man were still mortal — ah, and what he loses! — what a comment on that mortality!"
"I see it merely as beauty, Werther, and nothing more. Surely, Amelia, the creation is not intended…"
"There was no conscious intention."
"You must have planned for days —?"
"It came spontaneously."
"I knew it! It's so vital…"
"And the monsters! Poor O'Kala…"
"We must remember to revive him."
"At the end. Not before."
"Our first post-Resurrection resurrection! Here's the Duke of Queens."
"Come to pay my compliments. I bow to a master. Or should it be mistress?"
"Master will do, Duke of Queens."
"Mistress of my heart!"
"Really Werther, you embarrass me!" A burst of laughter such as she had never uttered before. Jherek pushed forward.
"Oh, Amelia, but if you would give me just the smallest encouragement…"
"Jherek! Here at last!"
"Here," he said. A silence seized him. It threatened to spread through the throng, for it was that kind, but Bishop Castle wagged his crook.
"Oho, Werther. You were overheard. Will this mean a duel, I wonder?"
"A duel !" The Duke of Queens saw an opportunity to strike a pose. "I will advise you. My own skill with the foil is considered not unremarkable. I am sure Lord Shark would agree…"
"Boasting Duke!" The iron Orchid put a pale yellow hand upon Amelia's naked shoulder and a white one upon Jherek's Joseph-coat. "I am sure that we are as tired of the fashion for duelling as we are of the nineteenth century. Amelia must have seen enough, of such sport in her native Burnley."
"Bromley," said Jherek.
"Forgive me. Bromley."
"Oh, but the idea is appealing!" cawed Doctor Volospion, his pointed chin thrust forward from beneath the brim of his hat. He cocked an eye first at Jherek, then at Werther. "The one so fresh and healthy, the other so stale and deathly. It would suit you, Werther, eh? With your penchant for parable. A duel between Life and Death. Whoever shall win shall decide the fate of the planet!"