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Zopolis sighed, envying them a little. They could sit and watch and wonder at the fantastic configurations of the exotic fungi, at their monstrous size, endless variety and incredible rate of growth. He had to test and judge and select the exact moment to commence the harvest. If it were too early, the crop would lack flavor, if too late, there would be no time to gather the quantity needed to make the operation a financial success. The fungi would reach maturity, produce spores, lose quality, and, worse, perhaps be contaminated by harmful elements.

Not for the first time he wished that he had taken up a different profession.

* * *

The entertainment had been discreetly advertised as a program of strange and unusual practices of a cultural nature collected on a score of primitive worlds. To Adrienne it was a monotonous collection of boring filth.

The whippings didn't disturb her and neither did the flayings, cuttings, scarification of tender organs and feats of drug-assisted endurance; Eldfane had hardened her to the spectacle of pain. On that rough world, punishment was public and, if any sightseers gained an erotic satisfaction from the spectacle it was an unintentional bonus. To her, pain was meant to hurt and nothing else. As for the rest, she grew impatient with the sighs and inhalations of the others crowded in the small auditorium. Surely there was nothing strange about sex.

Impatiently she turned, searching for her maid. The girl sat with her eyes enormous, her moist lips parted and her body twitching in time to the hiss and crack of the whip. Colors from the three-dimensional representation flowed over her flawless skin and touched her dark hair with shimmers of rainbow brilliance.

"Keelah!"

The girl blinked. "My lady?"

"Attend me!" Adrienne rose, careless of the comfort of those to either side and careless of those she thrust aside on her way to the exit. The anxious entrepreneur bowed as she approached.

"My lady, I trust the performance did not offend?"

"You did ill to invite me," she snapped. "The factor will hear of this, and," she added, "it would not be for you to visit either Jest or Eldfane. My father has a way of dealing with vermin of your kind."

"My lady?"

"Stripped," she said brutally, "castrated, blinded and released in the streets as sport for the mob."

Regally she swept through the corridors of Hightown. A scarlet shadow detached itself from a bench and fell into step at her side.

"Do you return to the ship, my lady?"

She did not look at the cyber. "You have some other suggestion?"

"A raft could be hired if you wish to see Scar. The growths at this time of the season are extremely interesting. The visual aspect, too, is most unusual."

With an effort she restrained her temper, remembering who the cyber was and what he represented. The Cyclan was quick to avenge any injury or slight done to its members.

"Thank you, Yeon, but no." Spitefully she added, "Have you any other suggestions?"

"There are always the information tapes on Jest, my lady."

Irritably she thinned her lips, half suspecting him of irony. Surely he must know that she was in no mood for education. A guard at the exit bowed as they approached, opened the first door and bowed again as they passed. There were two more doors and a second guard stood before the final barrier. As they passed into the open air a man flung himself at her feet.

"My lady! Of your charity, save a dying man!"

She stepped back, suddenly fearful. Assassins had been known to adopt strange disguises.

"Please, my lady!" Heldar raised distorted features to her. "A word with your husband on my behalf-a single word!" His voice rose as she stepped farther back. "At least let me spin again! It is my life, my lady, my life!"

"What is this?" Anger replaced her fear. Where were the guards, the retinue without which one of her station should never be without. "Who are you?"

Yeon stepped between the groveling suppliant and the woman. "Attend your mistress," he said to the girl and then he said to Adrienne, "My lady, do not concern yourself; the man is distraught. With your permission, I will attend to the matter."

She nodded and swept towards the ship, fuming with rage. I, the queen of a world, to be treated so! And still Jocelyn refuses to leave this backward place. Still he insists on playing his stupid games, making his stupid promises and talking all the time of destiny and fate.

But there was one thing at least she could do.

"Quick-time?" Jocelyn rose from his chair as she burst into his cabin with her demand. "Are you so bored?"

"I am."

"But there is so much to see. You could visit Lowtown- Ilgash will accompany you-or inspect the village around the station. We could invite the factor and a few others to a meal, and surely Hightown has something to offer in the way of entertainment."

She was insistent. "I did not leave Eldfane to be stranded on this apology of a world. You seem able to amuse yourself, but I cannot. I see no pleasure in walking through slums, eating with commercially-minded fools or watching unsavory images. I refuse to suffer longer because of your whims."

"Suffer?" Jocelyn stepped close and looked into her eyes. "Are conditions so unbearable?" he asked softly. "I had the impression that we were on our honeymoon. There are many ways, in such circumstances, to alleviate the slow passage of time."

"Must you talk like a peasant!" Memory of the recent entertainment brought a red flush to her cheeks. "There will be time enough to conceive an heir after we land on Jest. Until then, I demand to be spared further humiliation. At least quick-time will shorten this interminable period of waiting. I shall, of course," she added, remembering the girl's nubile beauty, "expect Keelah to attend me."

Jocelyn frowned, understanding the innuendo, and his face grew hard. "I am sorry. It would not be convenient at this time to grant your request."

She looked at him, eyes wide with incredulous anger.

"You are my wife," he said. "As such, your place is by my side. Because things are a little tedious, do you imagine that you can escape them by running away?" His voice was a hammer driving home the point it was essential to make. "Jest is not a soft world, Adrienne. There is much that will prove tedious and unpleasant but will have to faced. I suggest that you begin to learn the basic elements of self-discipline."

He was being unfair and knew it. Eldfane, also, was not a soft world; but the aristocracy had cushioned themselves against its natural harshness by becoming encysted in ritual and formality. Now, as his wife, Adrienne expected to be the head of such a world within a world. It was best to disillusion her now.

Training helped her to contain her anger. "You are well named," she said coldly, "but I do not appreciate the jest. Neither, do I think, will my father."

He bridled at the threat. "You wish to break the contract? Let me warn you that, if you do, you will not be welcome at your father's house. He has too many daughters still unwed. Why else do you think he was so eager to give me your hand?"

Immediately he repented of his cruelty. "Adrienne," he said, softly. "I did not marry you simply for your dowry, nor because we are genetically compatible and should have no trouble obtaining issue. I married you because-"

"You needed a wife to breed more fools," she interrupted savagely, "a woman to bring you goods and credit and the loan of trained and intelligent minds. Well, you have those things, but do not expect to gain more. And do not expect me to aid you with your insane projects. I do not relish being the butt of lesser folk. I, at least, have dignity."