As he listened, Jherek, with the others, moved into the haze of crimson light; their faces were bathed in it, their clothing coloured by it, and they saw that it and the music emanated from a glade. The glade was occupied by a large machine and it was this which was the source of the crimson glow; it stood lopsidedly upon four or five spindly legs, one of which at least was evidently broken. The body was asymmetrical but essentially pear-shaped with little glassy protuberances, like flaws in a piece of ceramic, dotted about all over it; from an octagonal object at the tip, the crimson poured. Near the crippled machine stood or sat seven humanoid beings who were unmistakably space-travellers — they were small, scarcely half Jherek's size, and burly, with heads akin in shape to that of their ship, with one long eye containing three pupils which darted about, sometimes converging, sometimes equidistant, with large, elephantine ears, with bulbous noses. They were bewhiskered, unkempt and dressed in a variety of garments, none of which seemed congruent with another. And it was from these little men that the music came, for they held instruments of unlikely shapes, which they plucked or blew or sawed at with stumpy fingers. At their belts were knives and swords and on their wide, splayed feet were heavy boots; their heads were decorated with caps, scarves or metal helmets, adding to their practical appearance. Jherek found it difficult to equate the exquisite beauty of the music with the ruffians who produced it.
All were affected by the music, listening in awe, unnoticed by the players, as the symphony slowly reached a resolution of apparently clashing themes, ending in a concordance which was at once unimaginably complex and of an absolute simplicity. For a moment there was silence. Jherek realized that his eyes were full of tears and, glancing at the others, he saw that they had all been as moved as he had been. He drew a series of deep breaths, as a man near-drowned when he breaks at last to the surface of the sea, but he could not speak.
The musicians for their part threw aside their instruments and lay back upon the ground roaring with laughter. They giggled, they shrieked, they slapped their sides, they were nearly helpless with mirth — and their laughter was raucous, it was even crude, as if the musicians had been enjoying a sing-song of lewd lyrics rather than playing the most beautiful music in the universe. Gabbling in a harsh, grating language, they whistled parts of the melodies, nudging one another, winking and bursting into fresh fits of merriment, holding their sides and groaning as they shook.
Somewhat put out by this unexpected sequel, the Duke of Queens led his party into the glade. At his appearance the nearest alien looked up, pointed at him, snorted and fell into another series of convulsions.
The Duke, who had always made a fetish of inconvenience, flicked on his wrist translator (which had originally been intended for communicating with Yusharisp's colleague), an ornate, old-fashioned and rather bulky piece of equipment he favoured over simpler forms of translator. When the aliens' outburst had subsided and they sat asprawl, still tittering and giggling a little, the Duke bowed, presenting himself and his companions to them.
"Welcome to our planet, gentlemen. May we congratulate you on a performance which went behind pleasure?"
As he drew closer, Jherek detected an odour he recognized from his sojourn in the 19th century; it was the smell of stale sweat. When one of the aliens stood up at last and came swaggering towards them, the odour grew decidedly stronger.
Grinning, the ruffian scratched himself and offered them a bow which was a mockery of the Duke's and sent his companions into a complaining, painful sequence of snorts and grunts.
"We were just having a bit of fun among ourselves," the alien said, "to pass the time. There seems precious little else to do on this tired old globe of yours."
"Oh, I'm sure we can find ways of amusing you," said My Lady Charlotina. She licked her lips. "How long have you been here?"
The alien stood on one bandy leg and scratched at his calf. "Not long. Sooner or later we'll have to see about repairing our ship, I suppose." He offered her what seemed to be a crude wink. My Lady Charlotina sucked in her lower lip and sighed, while the Iron Orchid whispered to Jherek:
"What marvellous additions they will make to a menagerie. I believe the Duke realizes it, too. He has first claim, of course. A shame."
"And from what part of the cosmos have you come?" asked Bishop Castle politely.
"Oh, I doubt if you'd recognize the name. I'm not even sure it exists any more. Me and my crew are the last of our species. We're called the Lat. I'm Captain Mubbers."
"And why do you travel the spaces between the stars?" The Iron Orchid exchanged a secret look with My Lady Charlotina. Their eyes sparkled.
"Well, you probably know that this universe is pretty much crapped out now. So we're drifting, really, hoping to find the secret of immortality and get a bit of fun along the way. When that's done — if we ever succeed — we're going to try to escape into another universe not subject to the same conditions."
"A second universe?" said Jherek. "Surely a contradiction?"
"If you like." Captain Mubbers shrugged and yawned.
"The secret of immortality and a bit of fun!" exclaimed the Duke of Queens. "We have both! You must be our guests!"
It was now quite plain to Jherek that the devious Duke intended to add the whole band to his collection. It would be a real feather in his cap to own such splendid musicians, and would more than make up for his gaff involving Yusharisp. However, Captain Mubbers' response was not quite what the Duke seemed to hope for. An expression of low cunning crossed his features and he turned to his crew.
"What do you think, lads? This gentleman says we can stay at his place."
"Well," said one, "if he's really got the secret of immortality…"
"He's not just going to give it up, is he?" said another. "What's in it for him?"
"We assure you, our motives are altruistic," Bishop Castle insisted. "It would give us pleasure to have you as our guests. Say that we enjoy your music. If you play some more for us, we will show our gratitude by making you immortal. We are all immortal, aren't we?" He turned for confirmation to his companions who chorused their agreement.
"Really?" mused Captain Mubbers. He fingered his jaw.
"Really," breathed the Iron Orchid. "Why I myself am some…" She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of My Lady Charlotina's affected lack of interest in her remarks. "Well, quite a few hundred years old," she concluded anticlimatically.
"I have lived two or three thousand years, at least," said the Duke of Queens.
"Don't you get bored?" enquired one of the seated aliens. "That's what we were wondering about."
"Oh, no. No, no, no! We have our pastimes. We create things. We talk. We make love. We invent games to play. Sometimes we'll go to sleep for a few years, maybe longer, if we do tire of what we're doing, but you'd be surprised how swiftly the time goes when you're immortal."
"I'd never even thought of it," said Bishop Castle. "I suppose it's because people have been immortal on this planet for millennia. You get used to it."
"I've a better idea," Captain Mubbers said with a grin. "You will be our guests. We'll take you with us as we continue our ride through the universe. On the way you can tell us the secret of immortality."
Nonplussed, the Duke shuddered. "To space! Our nerves would not bear it, I regret!" He turned with a wan smile to Jherek, still addressing the alien. "I thank you for your invitation, Captain Mubbers, but we have to refuse. Only Mongrove, who seeks discomfort in all forms, would ever contemplate venturing into space ."