"His Afrique."
"I do not know what he called it. I suggested a duel, because I wished to test my abilities against those of another mortal. I regretted this suggestion when I understood the light in which the duke accepted it."
"Then you would rather not continue with it?"
"It does not please me, madam, to be a clown, to be put to use for the entertainment of those foolish and capricious individuals you call your friends!"
"I do not understand you."
"Doubtless you do not."
"I regret, however, that you are displeased."
"Why should you regret that?" He seemed genuinely puzzled. "I regret only that my privacy has been disturbed. You are the third to visit me."
"You have only to refuse to fight and you are saved from enduring that which disturbs you."
The shark-mask looked away from her. "I must kill your Duke of Queens, as an example to the rest of you — as an example of the futility of all existence, particularly yours. If he should kill me, then I am satisfied, also. There is a question of honour involved."
"Honour? What is that?"
"Your ignorance confirms my point."
"So you intend to pursue this silly adventure to the bitter end?"
"Call it what you like."
"The duke's motives are not yours."
"His motives do not interest me."
"The duke loves life. You hate it."
"Then he can withdraw."
"But you will not?"
"You have presented no arguments to convince me that I should."
"But he seeks only to please his fellows. He agreed to the duel because he hoped it would please you."
"Then he deserves death."
"You are unkind, Lord Shark."
"I am a man of intellect, madam, whose misfortune it is to find himself alone in an irrational universe. I do you all the credit of having the ability to see what I see, but I despise you for your unwillingness to accept the truth."
"You see only one form of truth."
"There is only one form of truth." His grey shoulders shrugged. "I see, too, that your reasons for visiting me were whimsical, after all. I would be grateful if you would leave."
As she turned to go, something mechanical screamed from the desk. She paused. With a murmur of displeasure, Lord Shark the Unknown hurried to his consoles.
"This is intolerable!" He stared into a screen. "A horde has arrived! When you leave, please ask them to go away."
She craned her neck to look at the screen. "Why!" she exclaimed. "It is My Lady Charlotina's missing time travellers. What could their reason be, Lord Shark, for visiting you?"
9. Questions of Power
Brannart Morphail was not in a good temper. The scientist gesticulated at My Lady Charlotina, who had come to see him in his laboratories, which were attached to her own apartments at Below the Lake. "Another time machine? Why should I waste one? I have so few left!"
"Surely you have one which you like less than the others?" she begged.
"Big enough to take twenty-five men? It is impossible!"
"But they are so destructive!"
"What serious harm can they do if their demands are simply ignored?"
"The Iron Orchid and Lord Shark are their prisoners. They have all those weapons of Lord Shark's. They have already destroyed the mountains in a most dramatic way."
"I enjoyed the spectacle."
"So did I, dear Brannart."
"And if they destroy the Iron Orchid and Lord Shark, we can easily resurrect them again."
"They intend to subject them to pain , Brannart, and I gather that pain is enjoyable only up to a point. Please agree."
"The responsibility for those creatures was yours, My Lady Charlotina. You should not have let them wander about willy-nilly. Now look what has happened. They have invaded Lord Shark's home, captured both Lord Shark and the Iron Orchid (what on earth was she doing there?), seized those silly guns, and are now demanding a time machine in which to return to their own age. I have spoken to them already about the Morphail Effect, but they choose not to believe me." He limped away from her. "They shall not have a time machine."
"Besides," said My Lady Charlotina, "Lord Shark is due, very shortly, to fight his duel with the Duke of Queens. We have all been looking forward to it so much. Think of the disappointment. I know you wanted to watch."
His hump twitched. "That's a better reason, I'd agree." He frowned. "There might be a solution."
"Tell me what it is, most sagacious of scientists!"
Sergeant Martinez glared at Lord Shark and the Iron Orchid who, bound firmly, lay propped in a corner of the room. He and his men were armed with the pick of the weapons and they looked much more confident than when they had pushed past the Iron Orchid as she opened the door of Lord Shark's house.
"We don't like to do this," said Sergeant Martinez, "but we're running out of patience. Your friend Lady Charlotina is going to get your ear if someone doesn't deliver that time ship soon."
"Why should she need it?" The Iron Orchid was enjoying herself. Her sense of boredom had lifted completely and she felt that if they continued to be prisoners for a little longer, the duel would have to be forgotten about. She wished, however, that Sergeant Martinez had not taken all her power rings from her fingers.
"Tell your robot to get us some more grub," ordered the sergeant, digging Lord Shark in the ribs with the toe of his boot. Lord Shark complied. He seemed unmoved by what was happening; it rather confirmed his general view of an unreasonable and hostile universe. He felt vindicated.
A screen came to life. Trooper O'Dwyer, looking miserable, tuned the image with a manual control he had been playing with. "It's the old crippled guy," he informed his sergeant.
Sergeant Martinez said importantly, "I'll take over, trooper. Hi," he addressed Brannart Morphail. "Have you agreed to give us a ship?"
"One is on its way to you."
Sergeant Martinez looked pleased with himself. "Okay. We get the ship and you get the hostages back."
The Iron Orchid's heart sank. "Do not give in to them, Brannart!" she cried. "Let them do their worst!"
"I must warn you," said Brannart Morphail, "that it will do you little good. Time refuses paradox. You will not be able to return to your own age — or, at least, not for long. You would do better to forget this whole ridiculous venture…"
Sergeant Martinez switched him off.
"See?" he said to Trooper O'Dwyer. "I told you it would work. Like a dream."
"They must be treating it as a game," said O'Dwyer. "They've got nothing to fear. By using those power rings they could wipe us out in a second."
Sergeant Martinez looked at the rings he had managed to get onto his little finger. "I can't figure out why they don't work for me."
"They are, in essence, biological," said the Iron Orchid. "They work only for the individual who owns them, translating his desires much as a hand does — without conscious thought."
"Well, we'll see about that. What about the robots, will they obey anybody?"
"If so programmed," said Lord Shark.
"Okay" (of the automaton which had re-entered with a tray of food), "tell that one to obey me."
Lord Shark instructed the robot accordingly. "You will obey the soldiers," he said.
"There's some kind of vehicle arrived outside." O'Dwyer looked up from the screen. He addressed Lord Shark. "How come this equipment looks like it's out of a museum?"
"My companion," explained Lord Shark, "he built it."
"Funny-looking thing. More like a space ship than a time ship." Trooper Denereaz stared at the image: a long, tubular construction, tapering at both ends, hovering just above the ground.
"It's going to be good to get back amongst the cold, clean stars," said Sergeant Martinez sentimentally, "where the only things a man's got to trust is himself and a few buddies, and he knows he's fighting for something important. Maybe you people don't understand that. Maybe there's no need for you to understand. But it's because there are men like us, prepared to go out there and get their guts shot out of them in order to keep the universe a safe place to live in, that the rest of you sleep well in your beds at night, dreaming your nice, comfortable dreams…"