"Sixteen, Adara! You were number eighteen and I was twenty-two. We're safe! Safe!"
His hand trembled as it reached for the wine. Red or blue, did it matter? Yet red was the color of blood, and blue of hope. Now there was no need of hope. Ruby liquid spattered as he shakily poured it. A man reborn, reprieved. The wine slid down his throat as if it had been water, his goblet refilled before the woman had lifted her own.
"To life," she said.
"Eloise!"
"To life," she repeated doggedly. "And to hell with conventions which insist that no one must speak of life or death, or the crazy pattern of the city in which we're stuck. To hell with the city. To hell with Camolsaer!"
"You're drunk!" he shouted. "Drunk or mad!"
"Not drunk, Adara. And not scared. The bell has tolled, remember? The choice has been made. Those poor, damned fools who lost have gone to their living hell. Gone, or on their way. So drink, you fool, and enjoy life. Enjoy it while you can."
She drank, throwing back her head; the slender length of her throat fully exposed, taut, lovely. With an abrupt gesture she threw aside the empty glass so that it shattered into fragments against the wall and then reached towards him, hands extended, eyes enormous with emotion.
"Eloise!"
She stepped closer; her mouth wide, sensuous, the lips full and softly moist.
"No!" He backed, cautious, afraid.
"You coward!" Her voice, still musical, now held the chill of contempt. "Afraid to drink too much. Afraid to break things. Afraid even to make love too often. Terrified even to talk about life and death, and what happens to those who have lost. Fear. Is that what rules you? Are you so in love with it that you can't remember what it is to be a man? Have you ever known?"
"Eloise! Please!"
Camolsaer would be watching, noting; measuring the emotional content, the amount drunk, everything. He saw her hands come towards him, the fingers curved, light reflected from the points of her sharpened nails. They touched his cheeks and he felt the stab of incipient pain, yet could do nothing to prevent her stripping the flesh with her talons if she so desired.
And then, abruptly, she dropped her hands.
"Reaction," she said huskily. "It hits people in different ways. Let's get the hell out of here."
* * * * *
The city was at gruesome play. A long conga line of near-naked men and women wound down the passages, past the adornments, beneath the arched roofs and down the ramp into the main assembly hall. There, at the far end, a man stood between two Monitors. At least he seemed to be standing and then, Adara saw that he was being supported at each side, his feet hanging inches above the floor.
"Larchen," said a man at his side. "Number four. He tried to put a good face on it, but collapsed and tried to run. A bad thing to have happened."
"And Thichent?"
"As you'd expect. He drew the prime and knew there could be only one end. He left the party at the first knell; an example to us all." He smiled at Eloise, bobbing his head. "You look superb, my dear, but then you always do. A little wine?"
"Aren't you afraid of Camolsaer?"
"After the bell there is always a period of grace. Didn't Adara explain that? Drinks taken now are not counted. A concession for which we must be grateful. But surely you know this?"
She had known it, realized Adara sickly. It had been himself who had forgotten. Or perhaps not forgotten, but distrusted. The woman's fault-why had he ever saved her?
Taking the proffered glass she said, quietly, "Choi, you amaze me."
"In what way, Eloise?"
"In your acceptance."
"Of what?" He frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Things are what they are-what they have always been. We are born, we live, we leave. It is as simple as that."
"Leave?" Her voice was faintly mocking. "Don't you mean that you die?"
Flushing, he said in a high voice, "Now listen, I know that you're a stranger, but that is no way to talk. You've been here long enough to have learned our customs. We don't-die." He seemed to gag on the word. "We are converted."
"Yes," she said.
"Changed! Improved!" His voice was now almost a scream. "Thichent knew that. He realized and accepted it. He was proud to be the first. To pay his debt to the city, to us, to Camolsaer."
"Who are you trying to convince?" she said flatly. "Me or yourself?"
"Adara!"
Adara answered the appeal, taking her by the arm and guiding her away from Choi, the others who had overheard. Beneath his fingers he felt the quivering of her flesh, the anger which threatened to consume her. A pair of girls ran towards them, long streamers of bright fabric in their hands, the material breaking beneath his impatient gesture. Pouting at their spoiled pleasure, they ran towards others more receptive of their attention.
"Eloise, why be so foolish?"
"You call it that?"
"To upset Choi and the others, yes."
"To upset them?" She shrugged. "To teach them, you mean. To try and reach them. To stop them from being so blind."
"To spoil their pleasure." His voice was brittle with impatience. "Have you learned nothing? To talk as you did was stupid."
"Stop it, Adara."
"But-"
"Stop it!" She pulled her arm free and turned to face him. Colored light from drifting globes bathed her face with shadowed radiance, accentuating the structure of the bone, hardening the contours in their rigid anger. "I won't be lectured by you or any man in this insane city. Nor any woman. If you want to know why, just look around. Minutes ago they heard the bell. Now every damned fool acts as if he were at a party."
"It's custom, you know that."
"Madness!"
"No." He reached for her arm and felt a momentary hurt as she avoided his hand. "You are disturbed, but that is natural. I understand. But it is all over now. There is no need for concern. You, I, both of us are safe."
"For how long?" She gave him no time to answer. "Until the next draw," she said bitterly. "The next selection. How can you be sure that you won't draw prime? And, if you do, will you walk willingly to your death as that fool Thichent did?"
"Please, Eloise."
"Death," she repeated savagely. "Death, damn you! Death!"