"I could think of something." The woman in black smiled from where she sat. "Have we anything in common, Earl? Worlds we both know, for example? Pleasures we have both shared?"
"I doubt the first," he said dryly. "I'm not so sure about the second."
"Thank God for a man with a sense of humor," she said. "Charisse, where did you find him? If you ever get around to producing copies of him in your laboratory I'll be your first customer."
"Earl is unique, Linda. I'd like to keep him that way."
"I can't blame you." Her nails glinted as she reached for another fruit, a gleam which attracted his attention, focused his eyes. "You like them?" She extended her hands to show the metal implants. "I've found them useful at times."
"A harlot's trick," sneered Glenda. "You advertise yourself, my dear."
"You have no need, Glenda." The sneer was returned. "Everyone knows your weakness-or is it your depravity?"
"Bitch!"
Dumarest said, loudly, "I was interested in what Armand was trying to achieve. Sayer told me about it."
"The teleths?"
"No, why he developed them."
"The Original Man." Charisse held up a hand and a servant came to fill her glass with wine. A gesture and others attended to the guests. "Armand was certain we had devolved from a higher life form," she explained. "He worked on the theory that nature does not produce organs just to let them wither. The vermiform appendix, the pineal gland-are you with me?"
"If the appendix were functional we could live on cellulose," said Dumarest. He added, "There have been times when I would have found that most convenient."
"To live on grass?" Lina Ynya was quick with her comment. "Earl, you surprise me. Do you really mean that?"
"If you'd ever gone hungry on a world covered with bushes and grass you'd know I mean it. But the pineal gland?"
"Something left over like the appendix," said Charisse. "Some say it's the vestigial remains of a third eye. Can you imagine what it would be like to have three eyes? Think of the advantage you'd have over binocular vision."
"Would there be any?" Corm burped and hastily drank some wine. "The spice," he complained. "Your chef is too heavy with the spice. But to get back to eyes, Charisse, what advantage would a third one give?"
"Maybe it enabled its owner to see into the ultraviolet," suggested Krantz. He was big, solid, his head matted with a grizzle of hair. He added, frowning, "But would that really be an advantage? Of course, if the lens could be adjusted we'd have telescopic vision. That would be an aid to anyone."
"Couldn't you develop something like that yourself, Charisse?" said Vayne. "Build a superbeing. It could be fun?"
"Now you're talking about genetic manipulation," protested Glenda. "Armand was concerned with natural devolution. If we have devolved then from what?"
"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.