"What might I like?" she asked, stepping closer to see.
Hogar reached out and tore the sheet of plastic wrap from the gift basket and, bowing slightly toward Helena, he said, "Some home world fruit, dear lady. This is a marvelous collection. I believe you will find each piece delicious, fresh and clean."
"I don't know if I should eat any alien—"
"Oh," Hogar said, "you will find our home world fruit perfectly compatible with your digestive system. Haven't you eaten any imports, back on your own world?"
Helena said, "No, I—"
Hogar plucked the raspberry-apple from the basket, rubbed it against one sleeve to polish it, and held it toward her. "Here. Eat, eat! There is nothing to be afraid of!"
Before she could find some new way to refuse the poisoner's gift, their conversation was interrupted by a booming laugh so loud it shook the walls and hurt their ears. Immediately following this came a crashing sound that slammed through the hotel like an explosion in its foundations.
"What in the world—" Helena began.
"It's Pearlamon and Gonius, at it again!" Hogar the Poisoner said. He put the raspberry-apple back in the basket, turned and hurried into the main hall, his robes fluttering behind him.
"Who are Pearlamon and Gonius?" Jessie asked Tesserax.
"Two gods," the alien said.
They followed Hogar into the corridor and saw the source of the thumping racket that was still going on. In the middle of the hall, half-way back toward the elevators, two huge maseni males, dressed in little loincloths and headbands, were wrestling, tossing each other into the walls, lacking and punching and twisting ears, battering noses and pulling hair and biting necks.
"Maseni gods are a lively sort," Tesserax explained. "They always have to be up to something. Wrestling, boxing, engaging in relay races, drinking and singing…"
"Well, anyway," Jessie said, "it's not going to get dull around here."
Chapter Nineteen
That same night, Jessie woke in the dark bedroom and found something soft and warm filling his mouth. For a moment, he suspected someone was trying to jam a pillow down his throat, but when he came fully awake, he realized the truth. He and Helena had gone to sleep while lying on their sides, facing each other; in the hours since, he had slid toward the foot of the bed, and now he held one of her delectable, round breasts in his mouth. Or part of one of her breasts, anyway. It was difficult, if not impossible, he knew, to hold all of one of Helena's breasts in his mouth.
He relaxed when he realized no one was trying to smother him. He would have been perfectly content to remain like that, nipple on his tongue, until morning, had he not heard the sound that — he realized upon hearing it once more — had originally awakened him: a moan.
He tensed, staring into the darkness.
Silence.
Imagination?
Then it came again, a low and agonized cry that originated either in the drawing room of the suite or from the corridor beyond. It cut across his spine like an ice pick and ended his sleepy satisfaction. He let go of Helena's breast and drew gently away from her, sat up and listened for the sound to come again.
It did: louder, more drawn out, more agonized than ever, like the cry of a man who knew he was rapidly dying….
Jessie slid out of bed, felt around on the floor and found his robe, put it on and belted it tightly around the waist. His narcotics dart gun was on the dresser, and he managed to pick it up, check that the magazine was in place and slip it in a robe pocket without waking anyone. He walked quietly into the drawing room and stood there in the darkness, waiting.
Again: moaning.
Now, he realized that the injured party — whoever or whatever it was — was in the corridor beyond the drawing room. Moving quickly across the room, he pulled the door open and looked into the dimly lit hallway. One of the gods lay there, in front of the door, sprawled on his back, his hefty arms thrown out at his sides, his legs spread like two lifeless hunks of dark blubber. His tentacles wriggled senselessly as he groaned.
Jessie bent over the prostrate giant and looked into the amber eyes. "What's the matter?"
"I've been done in," the god said.
"Poisoned?"
"Ah, that dastardly Hogar!" the god said, and he moaned twice as loudly as before. "He'll do anything for a price."
"What can I do to help you?" Jessie asked.
The tentacles wriggled more quickly than ever. "Nothing. Nothing at all! I have been dealt a foul intestinal blow, and I must succumb. But don't fear, my friend. I know who paid the dastardly Hogar, and I will seek revenge in my next life! It was Pearlamon, that odorous piece of godflesh, that pretender to true divinity!"
"What's going on here?" Helena asked. She had come, nude, from the bedroom and stood in the doorway, blinking her eyes.
Brutus appeared at her side and said, "Skullduggery."
"Exactly!" the god roared. "I had consumed but a cup of broth when the convulsions took me. I staggered this far and collapsed, seeking help. Now I am all but paralyzed, and I know help cannot be obtained. I die, I die!" Down the hall, Tesserax's door opened, and the maseni official came swaying toward them, nodding his bulbous head. "What's wrong with you, Gonius?"
"What appears wrong with me?" the god moaned. "I am the victim of those I took to be my friends. Trusting, I was stabbed in the back, taken sore advantage of, used, discarded, betrayed!"
"Does he always talk so goddamned much?" Brutus asked. "If he does, no wonder someone poisoned him."
"Oh, woe, woe!" Gonius cried, thrashing about as the poison seeped deeper into him.
"Pay, him no mind," Tesserax said. "He'll rise again, once he's dead, and he'll be poisoned again, too."
"Heartless mortal," Gonius said.
Tesserax leaned over the god and said, "How often have you been poisoned by Hogar?"
"At least ten thousand times!" the giant cried. "Is that not proof of this man's awful villainy?"
"It is, indeed," Tesserax said. "And it's also proof that we need not shed any tears or hold any concern over you."
"What a cruel world it has become," Gonius said, "when a god's own creatures care not for him."
"Poor, poor dear," Helena said, reaching out to touch the god's smooth, waxy face.
But she was too late with her sympathy, for Gonius gasped and shuddered one last time, died swiftly after decrying the state of the world.
"His body's fading away," Jessie observed.
Slowly, the great hulk was taking on an obvious transparent tone, the green carpet vaguely visible through it.
"In a few minutes," Tesserax said, "it will be gone altogether. In the morning, however, Gonius will be back at the breakfast table, screaming at Pearlamon and Hogar. It's rather a tedious cycle."
The body winked out of existence.
"Well, I suppose there's nothing more we can do," Jessie said.
"Get your sleep," Tesserax said. "Tomorrow, we begin questioning some locals about this beast we seek."
On the way back to their bedroom, Helena said, "Now I'm wide awake."
"I know just what you need," Jessie said. In the bedroom, he removed his robe. "A sedative."
Helena grinned and sat on the bed, reached to fluff the pillows, and found a note. "What's this?" she asked, picking it up. "It's a note to you," she answered, without waiting for him.
"A note? On my pillow? What's it say?" :
She read: "Mr. Jessie Blake — Beware all things maseni. Do not stir in cauldrons that do not concern you. If you persist at this, you will be the next victim of the beast." She flipped the piece of paper over and looked at the other side, which was blank. "That's it," she said.
* * *