"Speculation." Astin signaled for more wine. "I've heard such fantasies before. The proposition that we are the products of a genetic engineer-a creature who took beasts and fashioned them into men. In the light of Charisse's achievements is that such an impossible conception? Of course it gives rise to further speculation-who and what was this supposed manipulator? Where did it come from and what happened to it? Did we, Mankind, get out of hand and turn against our creator?" He drank and chuckled at the conception. "Now where have I heard that before?"
In legends, the stuff in which Boulaye had delved, in which Armand Chetame had dealt. A myth Charisse had casually mentioned-or had it been casual? Dumarest glanced at her where she sat, face misted with winking gleams, hair a mass of supporting stars. If bored she gave no sign of it but he had the impression that, like a puppet master, she was manipulating them all.
Now she said, "We have talked enough about my specialty for a while. Let us change the subject. As I recall, Ienda, you mentioned a game before dinner."
"I did?" Ienda had a smooth, pleasant face which now crinkled in thought. "Was it something to do with testing mental ability?"
"Logic. You said it was an exercise in logic which showed how wrong logic can be."
"I remember! It's a game I used to play as a child. No matter what was proposed the answer was always the same. One arrived at by logical deduction."
Lunerarch spoke for the first time since his attempt to propose a toast. "An example, my dear? Can you give us an example?"
"Let me think." She did so, frowning. "Take a beehive. A hive is a dwelling for a number of separate units. In order to live in close proximity units must live in a building. Therefore a hive is a building. A building is a house. You see?" Her triumph was short-lived. "Oh! I didn't give the key word. It was 'house,' of course."
"And everything comes back to house?" Astin was dubious. "Let me see, now. No matter what I say, what word I give you, it all comes to the same, right?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll give you a word. Fish."
"Fish?"
"That's right." He beamed his victory. "You want to back out?"
"No, but I'll take a wager. Even money I don't fail?" She smiled as he nodded. "Three hundred?" Her smile grew wider as, again, he agreed. "Fish? Let me think for a moment. Yes, I have it. A fish has silver scales. A silver-scaled fish is a silverfish. A silverfish lives in a house. Anything which lives in a house is a part of that house. Therefore a fish is a house."
"That's cheating." Enrice Heva shook his head in mock disapproval. "Ienda, you disappoint me."
"It isn't cheating, it's logic," she said. "Can I help it if logic itself is a cheat?"
"A cheat?" The woman in black gave a throaty chuckle. "Not a house?"
"Linda, be charitable, it's only a game."
"So you won't expect to be paid," said Astin. "The bet was a part of the game too."
"Everything is a game. Life, the universe, all a game." Vayne blinked as he reached for his goblet and it toppled beneath his hand. Ruby wine stained the cloth, sent little runnels between the scattered dishes. "How did that happen?"
"Bad coordination," said Charisse. A servant came to swab up the spilled wine at her signal. "You misjudged time, distance and application."
Which, thought Dumarest, was a neat way of telling a man he was drunk.
Time passed, servants coming to clear the table of all but the decanters, the glasses, the bowls of nuts and tiny biscuits, the morsels which cleansed the mouth of present flavors with a diversity of their own. Things to punctuate the conversation as the entertainment divided the topics.
"Clever!" Linda clapped with languid enjoyment as a trio of jugglers made their exit from the hall. "But I think I liked the singer more."
He had been tall and darkly handsome with a voice as clear as a bell and a tonal range which caused it to throb like an organ to rise shrilling as a bird. A virtuoso followed by a dancer with a body of lithe grace, a teller of yarns of questionable taste, a harpist, a girl who played a flute.
Items forgotten as soon as enjoyed as were the wine, the morsels. Dumarest selected one, crushed it between his teeth and felt his mouth fill with a blend of flowers and bees. Another yielded the fragrance of the sea. A third burned with searing spice.
A gamble taken and lost, the forfeit a gulp of cooling wine.
Others paid the price without having lost the game but, he noted, Charisse remained in icy aloofness, her seat at the head of the table the position of control. Even as he watched he saw her signal to one of the servants, a gesture which resulted in the girl moving from one to the other with a tray of small glasses each filled with a lambent fluid.
Taking one Astin lifted it with a mocking smile.
"To the death of pleasure," he said carefully. "To the magic of science!"
Linda, her words more slurred, echoed the sentiment. Drinking, she sat, eyes closed, the empty glass in her hand; then, shuddering, she smiled.
"You bitch," she said clearly. "You laced the medicine with something horrible. If it weren't too late I'd rather have stayed tipsy."
"Instead of which you are sober, my dear," leered fat old Enrice Heva. "And forgetful too, I hope?"
"My door will be unlocked," she retorted. "But if the wrong man comes through he'll regret it."
"And the right one, my dear?"
"Hell know." Her eyes rested on Dumarest. "If he doesn't he will before long."
An invitation openly and unmistakably extended-was she as sober as she seemed? Was any of them? Drunkenness could stem from other sources than alcohol and what had been added to the morsels, dusted on the nuts and biscuits?
"Earl?" Charisse leaned forward in her chair. "You haven't drunk the restorative."
He didn't need it and didn't intend drinking it but it was better to pretend than refuse. He masked the glass in his hand, setting it untouched down among others still full. If the girl holding the tray noticed the deception she made no sign.
"Now," said Charisse. "Let us play another game, a serious one this time. I want you to specify the perfect man."
"Armand's ideal," said Astin. "Well, why not? Do you want me to begin? We need strength, stamina, an efficient energy to food ratio, good sensory apparatus, deft manipulative ability, a wide temperature tolerance, protection and offensive weaponry and-" He frowned. "Have I left anything out?"
"I don't think so but I may remember something."
"A man," said Krantz. "We are talking about a man."
"Novaman," said Astin. "The new man. How should he be designed? For strength we need powerful muscles which in turn calls for massive bones for anchorage. But heavy bones show a diminishing return in relation to agility and massive bulk needs a higher intake of food to maintain efficiency. There has to be an optimum balance."
"No flying," said Vayne. "A strong bone structure rules that out-the weight factor is against it. Swimming, climbing, easy mobility can all be gained by using accepted patterns. But there has to be something more than an extra efficient man. A new method of energy intake, for example. And, now that I think about it, I'm not too sure about the wings. Flying men are common in legend." He appealed to his hostess. "Charisse-can it be done?"
"Efficiently? No."
"The bone weight?"
"Is, as you say, against it. In any case it would restrict our creature to a limited environment. Earl?"
He said, "I'm not a genetic engineer."
"Neither are your companions but they do not hesitate to give their views. Surely you, with your knowledge and experience of various worlds, have some ideas of your own?"