THE PALACE OF LOVE 375

declining. More significantly, the typical reader no longer is a de- cision-maker. The management has been trying to please everyone, including the advertisers; as a result the magazine has lost its flair."

"There would seem to be a remedy for the situation," said Gersen. "Hire a new editor, a man of imagination and intelligence. Instruct him to revitalize the magazine, without regard for adver- tisers or circulation, sparing no reasonable expense. When the mag- azine regains its prestige, circulation and advertisers will return fast enough."

"I am relieved that you preface the word expense with reason- able," said Addels in his driest voice. "I still am not accustomed to dealing with millions as if they were hundreds."

"No more am I," said Gersen. "The money means nothing to me�except that I find it uncommonly useful. One other matter. Instruct the Cosmopolis head office�I believe it is located in Lon- don�that a man named Henry Lucas will be sent to the editorial offices. Represent him as an employee of Zane Publishing if you like. He is to be put on the payroll as a special writer, who will work when and where he chooses without interference."

"Very well, sir. I will do as you require."

4

From Introduction to Old Earth, by Ferencz Szantho

Erdenfreude A mysterious and intimate emotion which dilates blood vessels, slides chills along the sub- cutaneous nerves, arouses qualms of apprehension and excitement like those infecting a girl at her first ball Erdenfreude typically attacks the outworld man ap- proaching Earth for the first time Only the dull, the insensitive, are immune The excitable have been known to suffer near-fatal palpitations

The cause is the subject of learned dispute Neu- rologists describe the condition as anticipatory adjust- ment of the organism to absolute normality of all the sensory modes color recognition, sonic perception, conolis force and gravitational equilibrium The psy- chologists differ, Erdenfreude, they state, is the flux of a hundred thousand racial memories boiling up almost to the level of consciousness Geneticists speak of RNA, metaphysicians refer to the soul; parapsychologists make the possibly irrelevant observation that haunted houses are to be found on Earth alone

History is bunk �Henry Ford

Gersen, who had lived nine years on Earth, nevertheless felt some- thing of an outworlder's exhilaration as he hung above the great globe awaiting his clearance from Space Security Finally it arrived,

THE PAL/ICE OP IOVE

with precise landing instructions, and Gersen dropped down to the West Europe spaceport at Tarn. He passed through sanitation pro- cedures and health inspection�the most stringent of the Oiku- mene�punched appropriate buttons at the Immigration Control console, and finally was allowed to proceed about his business

He rode to London by tube, and registered at the Royal Oak Hotel, a block off the Strand The season was early autumn, the sun shone through a high thin overcast Old London, permeated with the vapors of antiquity, shone like a fine gray pearl

Gersen's clothes were in the Alphanor style, fuller in cut and richer in color than the clothes of London. On the Strand he went into a gentleman's outfitter, where he selected a fabric, then stripped to his underwear and was measured by photonic scanners Five minutes later he was delivered his new garments black trou- sers, a jacket of dark brown and beige, a white blouse and black cravat Inconspicuous now, Gersen continued along the Strand.

Dusk came to the sky Every planet had its distinctive dusk, thought Gersen The dusk of Alphanor, for instance, was an electric blue, gradually fading to the richest of ultramarines Sarkovy dusk was a dead dismal gray, with a tawny overtone Dusk at Sabra had been brown-gold, with domains of color around the other stars of the cluster The dusk of Earth was dusk as it should be�soft, heather-gra), soothing, an ending and a beginning Gersen dined at a restaurant which had maintained an unbroken tenancy for over seventeen hundred years The old oak beams, fumed and waxed, were as stout as ever, the plaster recently had been scraped of twenty layers of whitewash and refinished, a process which oc- curred every hundred years or so Gersen's thoughts reverted to his youth He had visited London twice with his grandfather, though for the most part they had lived in Amsterdam There never had been dinners such as this, never leisure or idleness Gersen shook his head sadl\ as he recalled the exercises to which his merciless grandfather had put him A wonder that he had stood up to the discipline

Gersen bought a copy of Covmopohs and returned to the hotel, He went into the bar, and sitting at a table ordered a pint of Wor- thmgton's AJe, brewed at Burton-on-Trent as had been the case for something less than two thousand years He opened Cosfwpo/is It was easy to understand why the magazine had become moribund There were three long articles: "Have Earthmen Become Less Vir-

378 THK DEMON PRINCKS

ile?" "Patricia Poitrine: New Toast of the Smart Set"; "A Cler- gyman's Guide to Spiritual Renewal." Gersen flicked through the pages, then laid the magazine aside. He drained the mug, and went up to his room.

In the morning he visited the editorial offices of Cosniopolis, and asked to speak to the personnel director. This was Mrs. Neutra, a brittle, black-haired woman wearing a great deal of preposterous jewelry. She showed no inclination to speak to Gersen. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I can't consider anything or anyone at this moment. I'm in a flap. Everybody's in a flap. There's been a shake-up; no one's job is any good."

"Perhaps I had better speak to the editor in chief," said Gersen. "There was to have been a letter from Zane Publishing, and it should have arrived."

The personnel director made a gesture of irritation. "Who or what is Zane Publishing?"

"The new ownership," said Gersen politely.

"Oh." The woman pushed among the papers on her desk. "Maybe this is it." She read. "Oh, you're Henry Lucas."

"Yes."

"Hmm .. . Piff puff. . . You're to be a special writer. Some- thing we Just don't need at the moment. But I'm only personnel director. Oh hell, fill out the application, make an appointment for your psychiatric tests. If you survive, and you probably won't, show up a week from tomorrow for your orientation course."

Gersen shook his head. "I don't have time for any of these formalities. I doubt if the new owners have much sympathy with them."

"Sorry, Mr. Lucas. This is our inflexible program."

"What does the letter say?"

"It says to put Mr. Henry Lucas on the payroll as special writer."

"Then please do so."

"Oh, double bing-bang hell. If this is how things are going to go, why have a personnel director? WTly have psychiatric tests and orientation courses? Why not just let janitors put out the rag?"

The woman seized a form, wrote with swift strokes of a flam- boyant quill pen. "Here you are. Take it into the managing editor, he'll arrange your assignment."

The managing editor was a portly gentleman with lips pursed

THE PALACE OF LOVE 379

in a worried pout. "Yes, Mr. Lucas. Mrs. Neutra Just called me. I understand you have been sent in by the new ownership."

"I've been associated with them for a long time," said Gersen. "But all I want at this moment is whatever identification you supply your special correspondents, so that if necessary I can demonstrate that I'm an employee of Cosmopolis."

The managing editor spoke into an intercom. "On your way out, step into Department 2A and your card will be prepared." He leaned morosely back into his chair. "It seems that you are to be a roving reporter, responsible to no one. A very nice billet, if I may say so. WTiat do you propose to write about?"

"One thing or another," said Gersen. "Whatever comes up."

The managing editor's face sagged with bewilderment. "You can't go out and write a Cosmopolis article like that! Our issues are programmed months ahead! We use public opinion polls to find out what subjects people are interested in."

"I low can they know what they're interested in if they haven't read it?" asked Gersen. "The new owners are throwing the public opinion polls away."

The managing editor shook his head sadly. "How will we know what to write about?"

"I have an idea or two. For instance, the Institute could stand an airing. What are its current aims? Who are the men of Degrees 101, 102, 103? What information have they suppressed? What of Tryon Russ and his anti-gravity machine? The Institute deserves a comprehensive study. You could easily devote an entire issue to the Institute."

The editor nodded curtly. "Don't you think it's a bit�well, intense? Are people really interested in these matters?"

"If not they should be."

"Easily said, but it's no way to run a magazine. People don't w^nt to really understand anything; they want to think they have learned without the necessity of application. In our 'heavy' articles we try to supply keys and guides, so at least they'll have something to talk about at parties. But go on�what else do vou have in mind?"

"I've been thinking of Viole Falushe and the Palace of Love. Exactly what goes on at this establishment? What face does Viole Falushe show? What name does he bear when he comes in from

\W DP MON PRINCES

BeyoncP Who are his guests at the Palace ofLove^ How have they farced Would they care to return^"

"An interesting topic," the editor admitted "A bit close to the knuckle perhaps. We prefer to steer away from sensationalism and�shall we say�the grim facts of reality. Still I've often won- dered about the Palace of Love WTiat in the world does go on3 The usual, I suppose. But no one knows for sure. WTiat else^"

"That's all for now." Gersen rose to his feet. "In fact I'll be working on this last story myself."

The managing editor shrugged his shoulders. "You seem to have been accorded a free hand."

Gersen immediately rode the sub-Channel tube to Rolmgshaven, arriving at the vast Zone Station a few minutes before noon. He crossed the white-tiled lobby, past shdeways and escalators labeled W^ien, Pans, Tsargrad, Berlin, Budapest, Kiev, Neapolis and a dozen other ancient cities. He paused at a kiosk to buy a map, then went to a cafe, settled himself at a table with a stem of beer and a plate of sausages

Gersen had lived long in Amsterdam and had passed through the Zone Station on several occasions, but of the city Rolingshaven he knew little. As he ate, he studied the map.

Rolingshaven was a city of considerable extent, divided into four principal municipalities by two rivers, the Gaas and the Sluicht, and the great Evres Canal. At the north was Zummer, a rather grim district of apartment towers and careful malls laid out by some neat- minded city council ot the distant past. On the Heybau, a prom- ontory hooking out into the sea, was the famous Handelhal Conservatory, the wonderful Galactic Zoo and the Kindergarten;

Zummer otherwise was devoid of interest.

South across the Sluicht was the Old City�a teeming confu- sion of small shops, inns, hostels, restaurants, beer caverns, book- stalls, huddled offices, askew little houses of stone and timber� dating from the Middle Ages. A district as chaotic and picturesque as Zummer was stark and dull; and here as well was the ancient University, overlooking the fish market along the banks of the Evres Canal

Ambeules lay across the canal- a district of nine hills covered with homes and a periphery given to wharves, warehouses, ship- yards, mud flats from which were dredged the famous Flamande

THE PAMCE OF LOVE

oysters. The great Gaas estuary separated Ambeules from Dourrai, a district of somewhat lower hills, again covered with small homes, with the great industries and fabrication plants straggling along the shore and southward.

This was the city where Viole Falushe�or more accurately, Vogel Filschner�had lived, and where he had committed his first great crime. The exact locale was Ambeules, and Gersen decided to base himself in this area.

Finishing the beer and sausages he rode an escalator to the third level above, where a local tube car whisked him south under the Evres Canal to Ambeules Station. He rode to the surface, and look- ing right and left through the hazy radiance which characterized the region, approached the old woman who managed a newsstand. "Which is a good hotel nearby?"

The old woman pointed a brown finger. "Up Hoebhngasse to the Rembrandt Hotel: as good as any in Ambeules. Of course, if it's elegance you require, then you must go to the Hotel Prince Franz Ludwig in Old Town, the finest m Furope with prices to match."

Gersen chose the Rembrandt Hotel, a pleasant old-fashioned structure with public rooms paneled in dark wood, and was taken to a suite of high-ceilmged rooms overlooking the great gray Gaas.

The day was still young. Gersen rode a cab to the Maine, where he paid a small fee and was given access to the City Directory He ran the record back to 1495. The screen spun to the letter F, Fi, and finally the name Filschner. At this time three Filschners were listed. Gersen made notes of the addresses. He likewise found two Tmzys, and made similar notes. Then he dialed to the current list- ings and found two Filschners and four Tinzys. One of the Fil- schners and one of the Tinzys had maintained the same address across the years.

Gersen next visited the office of the Ambeules Helion, and on the strength of his Cosmopolis card was given access to the morgue. He brought the index to the screen, scanned it for the name Vogel Filschner, found a code number, coded and punched the "show" button.

The tale was much as Dundine had told, though in condensed form. Vogel Filschner was described as "a boy given to spells of brooding and wandering alone by night." His mother, Hedwig Fil- schner, identified as a beautician, professed herself amazed at Vo-

THF DEMON PRINCES

382

gel's outrageous deed. She described him as a "good boy, though very idealistic and moody."

Vogel Filschner had had no close friends. In the biology labo- ratory he had been teamed with a lad named Roman Haenigsen, the school chess champion. They had played an occasional game of chess during the lunch hour Roman evinced no astonishment at Vogel's crime "He was a fellow who hated to lose. Whenever I beat him, he would go savage and throw aside the pieces. Still, it amused me to play with him. I don't like people who take the game frivolously "

Vogel Filschner was not a frivolous boy, thought Gersen.

A photograph appeared, the kidnaped girls, grouped in a picture identified as the "Philidor Bohus Choral Society " In the front row stood a plump smiling girl m whom Gersen recognized Dundme. Among the girls would be Jheral Tmzy, and Gersen checked the faces against the caption. Jheral Tmzy was the third girl in the fourth row. Not only did a girl m the third row obscure her face, she also had turned her head aside at the time the photograph was taken, and what could be seen of her face was indistinct.

There was no photograph of Vogel Filschner.

The file ended. So much for that, thought Gersen. Vogel Fil- schner's identity as Viole Falushe was not widely apprehended m Ambeules, if at all. As verification, Gersen dialed for the file on Viole Falushe, the Demon Prince, but only a single reference ex- cited his interest "Viole Falushe at various times has implied that his original home was Earth. On several occasions a rumor has reached us to the effect that Viole Falushe has been seen here m Ambeules. Why he should wish to haunt our unexciting district is a question which cannot be answered, and the rumors appear no more than an insane hoax."

Gersen departed the newspaper offices and went to stand in the street The gendarmery? Gersen decided against approaching them. Unlikely, that they could tell him more than he already knew Un- likely, that they would if they could. Additionally, Gersen had no desire to arouse official curiosity.

Gersen checked the addresses he had noted, as well as the lo- cation of the Philidor Bohus Lyceum, on his map. The Lyceum was the nearest, at the far side of Lothar Parish Gersen signaled a three-wheeled autocab, and was conveyed up one of the nine hills through a district of small detached houses. Some were constructed

THE P4LACE OF LOVE

in the ancient fashion, of glazed dark red brick and a high pitched roof of milk-glass tiles, others were m the new "hollow trunk" style:

narrow concrete cylinders two thirds below the ground. There were houses of artificial sandstone compressed as a unit from molded soil;

houses of pink or white panels surmounted by crimped metal domes; houses of laminated paper, with transparent roofs electrically charged to repel dust. The bulbs of urn-cast glass or glass-metal, so common among the worlds of the Concourse, had never won acceptance among the folk of western Europe, who com- pared them to pumpkins and paper lanterns, and called the people who lived in them "nonhuman futunans." The cab discharged Ger- sen before the Philidor Bohus Lyceum, a grim cube of synthetic black stone flanked by a pair of smaller cubes

The director of the lyceum was Dr. Willem Ledmger, a bland large-bodied man with taffy-colored skin and a lank lock of yellow hair which wound around his scalp in a most peculiar manner. Ger- sen wondered at the man's audacity thus to present himself before several thousand adolescents. Ledinger was affable and unsuspi- cious, readily accepting Gersen's statement that Cosmopohs wished to present a survey of contemporary young people.

"I don't think there's much to write about," said Ledinger. "Our young people are, if I must say it, unexceptionable. We have many bright students and at least a fair quota of dullards . "

Gersen steered the conversation to students of the past and their careers, from here it was an easy connection to the sub)ect of Vogel Filschner.

"Ah yes," mused Dr Ledmger, patting his yellow topknot. "Vogel Filschner. I haven't heard his name for years. Before my time, of course; I was a mere instructor across the city at Hulba Technical Academy But the scandal reached us, never fear. Fac- ulties have big ears. WTiat a tragedy' To think of a lad like that going so far wrong'"

"He never returned to Ambeules, then^"

"He'd be a fool to do so Or to advertise his presence, at any rate."

"Do you have the likeness of Vogel Filschner among your rec- ords^ Perhaps I might do a separate piece upon this peculiar crime."

Grudgingly Dr. Ledmger admitted that photographs of Vogel Filschner were on file. "But why rake up the old nastiness? It is like breaking into graves."

II IF DI MON PRINCES

"On the other hand, such an article might identify the rogue, and bring him to )ustice "

"Justice5" Dr. Ledmger curled his lip in disbelief. "After thirty years5 He was a hysterical child No matter what his crime, by this time he has made redemption and found peace. What could be gamed by bringing him to what you call justice5"

Gersen was somewhat startled by Dr. Ledinger's vehemence. "To dissuade others. Perhaps there is a potential Vogel Filschner among your students this very instant."

Dr. Ledmger smiled wistfully "I don't doubt it an instant. Cer- tain of these young rascals�well, I won't tell tales out of school. And I won't supply you with the photographs. I find the idea com- pletely ob)ectionable."

"Is there a yearbook for the year of the crime5 Or better, the

previous year-

Dr. Ledmger looked at Gersen a moment, his affability slowdy disappearing. Then he went to his wall, plucked a volume from the shelves. He watched quietly as Gersen turned the pages, and finally came upon the photograph of the Girls Choral Society he had al- ready seen. Gersen pointed "There is Jheral Tmzy, the girl who rebuffed Vogel, and drove him to his crime."

Dr. Ledmger examined the picture "Think of it. Twenty-eight girls, snatched away Beyond. Their lives blasted. 1 wonder how they fared. Some may still be alive, poor things "

"Whatever became of Jheral Tmzy5 She was not among the group if you recall."

Dr. Ledmger examined Gersen with suspicion "You seem to know a great deal about the case. Have you been completely candid with me5"

Gersen grinned. "Not altogether I am principally interested in Vogel Filschner, but I don't want anyone to know I'm interested. If I can get the information I need discreetly, with no one the wiser, so much the better."

"You are a police officer5 Or of the IPCC5"

Gersen displayed his identification. "Here is my sole claim to

fame."

"Hmmf. Cowiopohs plans to publish an article on Vogel Fil- schner5 It seems a waste of paper and ink No wonder Cosmopohs has lost prestige."

THE PALACE OF LOVE

"What of Jheral Tinzy? You have her photograph in your files5"

"Undoubtedly." Dr Ledmger laid his hands upon the desk, to signal that the interview had reached its end. "But we cannot open our confidential files haphazardly I am sorrv "

Gersen rose to his feet. "Thank you, in any case."

"I have done nothing to help you," said Dr. Ledmger stonily

Vogel Filschner had lived with his mother in a narrow little house at the eastern end of Ambeules, bordering on a dingy district of warehouses and transportation depots. Gersen climbed the em- broidered iron steps, touched the button, faced the inspection eye. A woman's voice spoke. "Yes5"

Gersen spoke m his most confident voice. "I am trying to locate Madame Hedwig Filschner, who lived here many years ago."

"I know no one of that name. You must consult with Ewane Clodig who owns the property. We only pay rent "

Ewane Clodig, whom Gersen found m the offices of Clodig Properties, consulted his records. "Madame Hedwig Filschner . . . The name is familiar ... I don't see it on mv list. . . Here it is. She moved, let me see, thirty years ago."

"You have her present address5"

"No sir. That is too much to ask. I have not even a forwarding address from thirty years ago . . . But it comes back' Is she not the mother of Vogel Filschner, the boy slaver5"

"Correct."

"Well then, I can tell you this. When the deed was known, she packed her belongings and disappeared and no one has heard of her since."

Jheral Tmzy's old home was a tall octagonal structure of the so- called Fourth Palladian style, situated halfway up Bailleui Hill. The address corresponded to one which Gersen had noted in the current directory; the family had not changed its residence.

A handsome woman of early middle-age answered the door She wore a gay peasant smock, a flowered scarf around her head. Gersen appraised the woman before he spoke She returned a gaze so direct as to be bold. "You're Jheral Tinzy5" Gersen asked tentatively.

"Jheral5" The woman's eyebrows arched high. "No�no in-

THE DEMON PRINCES

deed." She gave a sardonic bark of laughter. "What a strange thing to ask. Who are you?"

Gersen produced his identification. The woman read, returned the card. "What makes you think I am Jheral Tinzy?"

"She lived here at one time. She would be about your age."

"I'm her cousin." The woman considered Gersen more care- fully than ever. "What did you want with Jheral?"

"May I come in? I'll explain."

The woman hesitated. As Gersen came forward she made a quick motion to restrain him. Then, after a dubious glance over her shoulder, she moved aside. Gersen entered a hall with a floor of immaculate white glass tiles. On one hand was the display wall, characteristic of middle-class European homes; here hung a panel intricately inlaid with wood, bone and shell: Lenka workmanship from Nowhere, one of the Concourse planets; a set of perfume points from Pamtile; a rectangle of polished and perforated obsid- ian, and one of the so-called "supplication slabs"* from Lupus 2311.

Gersen paused to examine a small tapestry of exquisite design and workmanship. "This is a beautiful piece. Do you know where it came from?"

"It's very rich," agreed the woman. "I believe it came from off- world."

"It looks to me like a Sabra piece," said Gersen.

From the upper floor came a harsh call: "Emma? WTw is there?"

"Awake already," muttered the woman. She raised her voice. "A gentleman from Cosmopolis, Aunt."

"We wish no magazines!" cried the voice. "I am explicit!"

"Very well, Aunt. I'll tell him so." Emma signaled Gersen into a sitting room, jerked her head toward the source of the voice. "Jheral's mother. She is not well."

"A pity," said Gersen. "Where, incidentally, is Jheral?"

*The nonhuman names uf Peninsula 4-\, Lupus 2 III. devote the greater part ot their lues to the working of these slabs, which apparcrirlv have a religious significance Twice each year, at the solstices, two hundred and twenty-four microscopically exact slabs are placed aboard a ceremonial harge, which is then allowed to drift out upon the ocean I'he Lupus Salvage Company maintains a ship |ust over the hon/on troin Peninsula 4A As soon as the raft has drifted h-om sight of land, it is recovered, the slabs are removed, exported and sold as vhjrT' il'ni-i

THE PAL-ICE OF LOVE

Emma turned her bold glance on Gersen. "WTly do you want to know?"

"To be candid, I'm trying to locate a certain Vogel Filschner."

Emma laughed soundlessly and without mirth. "You've come to the wrong place to find Vogel Filschner. What a joke!"

"You knew him?"

"Oh yes. He was in the class under mine at the Lyceum."

"You haven't seen him since the kidnaping?"

"Oh no. Never. Still�it's strange that you should ask." Emma hesitated, smiling tremulously as if in embarrassment. "It's like a cloud passing over the sun. Sometimes I look around, sure that I've glimpsed Vogel Filschner�but he's never there."

"W^Tiat happened to Jheral?"

Emma seated herself, looked far back aown the years. "You must remember that there was much publicity and outcry. It was the greatest outrage in memory. Jheral was pointed at; there were unpleasant scenes. Several of the mothers actually slapped and abused Jheral; she had snubbed Vogel, driven him to crime, hence, shared his guilt... I must admit," said Emma reflectively, "that Jheral was a heartless flirt. She was simply adorable, of course. She could bring the boys with one little sidelong glance�like this . . ." Emma demonstrated. "Such a rascal. She even flirted with Vogel. Pure sadism, because she couldn't bear the sight of him. Ah, the detestable Vogel! Every day Jheral would come home from school to tell us another of Vogel's enormities. How he dissected a frog, and then, after wiping his hands on a paper towel, ate his lunch. How badly he smelled, as if he never changed his clothes. How he would boast of his poetic mind, and try to impress her with his magnificence. It's true! Jheral with her tricks incited Vogel�and twenty-eight other girls paid the price."

"And then?"

"Great indignation. Everyone turned against Jheral, as perhaps they had always longed to do. Jheral finally ran away with an older man. She never returned to Ambeules. Not even her mother knows where she is."

Into the room rushed a blazing-eyed old woman with a mane of flying white hair. Gersen Jumped behind a chair to avoid her charge. "WTiat do you want, asking questions in this house? Be off with you�hasn't there been trouble enough? I don't trust your

3SS IHF D^MON PRINCES

face, you are like all the rest. Out, never return' Scoundrel' The audacity, entering this house with your filthy questions . ."

Gersen left the house as expeditiously as he was able. Emma started to accompany him to the door but her aunt, hobbling for- ward, shoved her aside.

The door closed, the near-hysterical ranting became muffled. Gersen heaved a deep breath. A virago' He had been lucky to es- cape without scratches

At a nearby cafe Gersen drank a flask of wine and watched the sun sink toward the sea ... An excellent possibility, of course, that the entire line oi investigation, beginning with the notice in the Avente newspaper, was a wild goose chase. To date, the only link between Viole Falushe and Vogel Filschner was the opinion ofKa- karsis Asm. Emma Tm?y apparently believed that she had seen Vogel F'llschncr m Ambeules, Viole Falushe might well enjoy the dangerous pleasure of returning to the scenes of his childhood. If so, why had he not revealed himself to his old acquaintances? Al- though it seemed that Vogel Filschner had made precious few friends or acquaintances in any event. Jheral Tmzy perhaps had made the wisest of decisions when she took herself away from Am- beules Vmie Falushe had a notoriously long memory. His one friend had been Roman Haemgsen, the chess champion. Some- where also there had been mention of a poet who had incited Vogel Filschner to excess .. . Gersen called for a directory, and searched for the name Haemgsen. There it was; the book almost fell open to the name Gersen copied the address and asked directions from a waiter It appeared that Roman Haemgsen lived scarcely five minutes' walk away. Finishing his wine, Gersen set off through the waning sunlight.

The house of Roman Haemgsen was the most elegant of the houses he had visited this day a three-story structure of metal and meltstone panels, with electric windows to go transparent or opaque at a spoken word.

Haemgsen was only ;ust arriving home when Gersen turned into the walk. A small brisk man with a large head and prim me- ticulous features, he peered sharply at Gersen and asked his busi- ness Candor in this case seemed more useful than indirection. Gersen said: "I am making inquiries in regard to your old classmate Vogel Filschner. I understand that you were almost his only friend "

THE PALACE OF LOVE 389

"Hm," said Roman Haenigsen. He thought a moment. "Come, inside, if you will, and we will talk."

He took Gersen into a study decorated with all manner of chess memorabilia, portraits, busts, collections of chessmen, photographs. "Do you play chess?" he asked Gersen.

"I have played on occasion, though not often."

"Like anything else, one must practice to keep in fighting trim. Chess is an old game." He went to a board, disarranged the chess- men with affectionate contempt. "Every variation has been ana- lyzed; there is a recorded game to illuminate the results of any reasonable move. If one had a sufficiently good memory, he would not need to think to win his games, he could merely play someone else's winning game. Luckily, no one owns such a memory but the robots. Still, you did not come here to talk of chess. Will you take a glass of liquor?"

"Thank you." Gersen accepted a crystal goblet containing an inch of spirits.

"Vogel Filschner! Strange to hear that name once more. Is his whereabouts known?"

"This is what I am attempting to learn."

Roman Haemgsen gave his head a wry shake. "You will learn nothing from me. I have neither seen him nor heard from him since 1494."

"I had hardly expected that he would return in his old identity. But it's possible�" Gersen paused as Roman Haemgsen snapped his fingers.

"Peculiar'" said Haenigsen. "Each Thursday night I play at the Chess Club. Perhaps a year ago I noticed a man standing under the clock. I thought, surely that's not Vogel Filschner^ He turned, I saw his face. It was a man somewhat like Vogel, but far different. A man of fine appearance and poise, a man who had nothing of Vogel's hangdog surliness. And yet�since you mention it�there was something to this man, perhaps his manner of holding his arms and hands, which reminded me of Vogel "

"You haven't seen this man smce^"

"Not once."

"Did you speak to him?"

"No. In my surprise I must have halted to stare, but then I hurried on past."

?90 '1 HE DEMON PRINCFS

"Can you think of anyone Vogel might wish to see3 Did he have friend'i other than yourself^"

Roman Haenigsen pursed his lips wryly. "I was hardly his friend We shared a laboratory table, I played him an occasional game of chess, which he often won. Had he applied himself he might have taken the championship But he cared only for mooning over girls and writing bad poetry in imitation of a certain Navarth."

"Ah, Navarth. This is the poet whom Vogel Filschner sought to emulate "

"Unfortunately In my opinion Navarth was a charlatan, a bom- bast, a man of the most dubious attitudes."

"And what has become of Navarth^"

"I believe he still is about, though hardly the man he was thirty years ago People have grown wise, studied decadence no longer shocks as it did when I was a lad Vogel naturally was entranced, and went through the most ludicrous antics in order to identify with his idol. Yes indeed. If anyone is to blame for the crimes of Vogel Filschner, it is the mad poet Navarth'"

Drinking whisky by the peg, Singing songs of drunken glee, I thought to swallow half a keg But Tim R. Mortiss degurgled me.

Not precisely comme il faut To practice frank polygamy;

I might have practiced, even so, But Tim R Mortiss disturgled me.

Chorus:

Tim R. Mortiss, Tim R. Mortiss, He's a loving friend- He holds my hand while I'm asleep He guides me on my four-day creep, He's with me to the end.

To woo a dainty Eskimo

I vowed to swim the Bering Sea.

No sooner had I wet a toe

When Tim R. Mortiss occurgled me.

A threat arcane, a fearful bane

Within an old phylactery.

I turned the rubbish down a dram,

Now Tim R. Mortiss perturgles me

Chorus (with a snapping of fingers and clicking of heels in mid-air)

THE DKMON PRINCES

392

Tim R. Morriss, Tim R. Mortiss, He's a loving friend. He holds my hand while I'm asleep, He guides me on my four-day creep, He's with me to the end.

�Navarth

On the following day Gersen paid a second visit to the offices of the Helion. The dossier on Navarth was enthusiastic and ample, reporting scandals, improprieties, defiances and outrageous pro- nouncements across a period of forty years. The initial entry dealt with an opera, presented by students of the university, with a li- bretto by Navarth. The first performance was declared an infamy, and nine students were expelled from the university. Thereafter, Navarth's career soared and collapsed, resurged, re-collapsed, at last with finality. For the past ten years he had resided aboard a house- boat on the Gaas estuary near the Fitlingasse.

Gersen tubed to Station Hedrick on Boulevard Castel Vivence and surfaced in the commercial and shipping district of Ambeules beside the Gaas estuary. The district roiled with the activity of agencies, warehouses, offices, wharves, buffets, restaurants, wine- shops, fruit hawkers, news kiosks, dispensaries. Barges nosed into docks to be unloaded by robots; drays rumbled along the boulevard;

from below came the vibration of freight moving by tube. At a sweetshop Gersen inquired for the Fitlingasse and was directed east along the boulevard.

Automatic open-sided passenger wagons served the boulevard, with patrons riding on benches facing the street. Gersen rode a mile, two miles, with the Gaas on the right hand. The bustle di- minished; the imposing blocks and masses of the commercial dis- trict gave way to ancient three- and four-story structures: queer narrow-windowed buildings of melt-stone or terra-cotta panels stained a hundred subtle colors by smoke and salt air. Occasionally the wagon passed vacant areas, where only weeds grow. Through these gaps could be seen the next street to the north, on a somewhat higher level than Boulevard Castel Vivence, with tall apartment buildings pressed tightly against each other.

The Fitlingasse was a narrow gray alley striking off up the hill. Gersen alighted and almost at once observed a hulking two-storied

THE PALACE OF LOVE

393

houseboat moored to a dilapidated dock. A wisp of smoke drifted up from the chimney. Someone was aboard.

Gersen took stock of the surroundings. Hazy sunlight played on the estuary; on the far shore thousands of houses with brown tile roofs stood in ranks down to the water's edge. Elsewhere were unused wharves, rotting piles, a warehouse or two, a saloon with purple and green windows extending over the water. On the dock a girl of seventeen or eighteen sat tossing pebbles into the water. She gave Gersen a brief dispassionate stare, then looked away. Ger- sen turned back to consider the houseboat. If this were Navarth's residence, he enjoyed a very pleasant prospect�though the wan sunlight, the brown roofs of Dourrai, the rotting wharves, the lap- ping water, invested the scene with melancholy. Even the girl seemed somber beyond her years. She wore a short black skirt, a brown jacket. Her hair was dark and rumpled, whether from wind or neglect, it could not be known. Gersen approached and inquired, "Is Navarth aboard the houseboat?"

She nodded without change of expression, and watched with the detachment of a naturalist as Gersen descended the ladder to the landing, then crossed an alarming gangplank to the foredeck of the houseboat.

Gersen knocked at the door. There was no response. Gersen knocked again. The door was flung violently open; a sleepy un- shaven man peered forth. His age was indeterminate; he was thin, spindle-shanked, with a twisted beak of a nose, rumpled hair of no particular color, eyes which though perfectly set gave the impres- sion of looking in two directions at once. His manner was wild and truculent. "Is there no privacy left in the world? Off the boat, at once. Whenever I settle for a moment's rest, some sheep-faced functionary, some importunate peddler of tracts insists on pounding me out of my couch. Will you not depart? Have I not made myself clear? I warn you, I have a trick or two up my sleeve .. ."

Gersen tried to speak to no avail. When Navarrh reached within he hastily retreated to the dock. "A moment of your time!" he called. "I am no functionary, no salesman. I am named Henry Lucas, and I wish�"

Navarth shook his skinny fist. "Not now, not tomorrow^ not in the total scope of the future, nor at any time thereafter, do I wish to make your acquaintance. Be off with you! You have the face of a man that brings ill news; a gnashing blacktooth grin. These mat-

THE DEMON PRINCES

394

ters are clear to me: you are fey! I want nothing of you. Go away." With a leer of evil triumph he swung the gangplank away from the landing, re-entered the houseboat.

Gersen returned to the dock. The girl sat as before. Gersen looked back down at the houseboat. He asked in a wondering voice:

"Is he always like that?"

"He is Navarth," said the girl, as if this were all that need be said.

Gersen went to the saloon, drank a pint of beer. The bartender was a quiet watchful man of great height with an imposing stomach, and either knew nothing about Navarth or did not choose to reveal what he knew. Gersen gleaned no information.

He sat thinking. A half hour passed. Then going to the tele- phone directory, he looked in the classified section under Salvage. An advertisement caught his eye:

JOBAN SALVAGE AND TOW TUGS�CRANE BARGE�DIVING EQUIPMENT

No job too large or too small.

Gersen telephoned and made his needs known. He was assured that on the morrow the equipment he required would be at his service.

The following morning a heavy ocean-going tug drove up the estuary, turned, eased into the mooring next to Navarth's house- boat, with a bare three feet between. The mate bawled orders to the seamen; lines were flung up to the dock and dropped over bol- lards. The tug was moored.

Navarth came out on deck, dancing with fury. "Must you moor so close? Take that great hulk away; do you intend to thrust me into the dock?"

Leaning on the railing of the tug, Gersen looked down into Navarth's upturned face. "I believe I spoke a few words to you yesterday?"

"I recall very well; I requested your departure, and here you are again, more inconveniently than before."

"I wonder if you would give me the pleasure of a few minutes' conversation? Perhaps there might be profit in it for you."

"Profit? Bah. I have poured more money out of my shoe than you have spent. I require only that you take your tug elsewhere."

THE PALACE OF LOl^E

395

"Gertainly. We are here but for a few minutes."

Navarth gave a pettish nod. At the far side of the tug the diver Gersen had hired was climbing back on board. Gersen turned to Navarth. "It's very important that I speak to you; if you would be so good as to�"

"This importance exists from a single point of view. Be off with you and your mammoth tug!"

"At once," said Gersen. He nodded to the diver, who touched a button.

Under the houseboat sounded an explosion; the houseboat shuddered and began to list. Navarth ran back and forth in a frenzy. From the tug grapples were lowered and hooked to the houseboat's rub-rail. "Apparently there has been an explosion in your engine room," Gersen told Navarth.

"How can this be? There has never been an explosion before. There is not even an engine. I am about to sink!"

"Not so long as you are supported by the lines. But we are leaving in one minute and I must cast loose the grapples."

"WTiat?" Navarth threw up his arms. "I will go to the bottom, together with the boat! Is this your desire?"

"If you recall, you yourself ordered me to leave," said Gersen in a reasonable voice. "Hence�" he turned to the crewmen. "Throw off the grapples. We depart."

"No, no!" bellowed Navarth. 'Til sink!"

"If you invite me aboard your boat, if you talk to me and help me compose an article I'm writing, then that's a different matter," said Gersen. "I might be disposed to help you through this mis- fortune, even, perhaps, to the extent of repairing your hull."

"WTly not?" stormed Navarth. "You are responsible for the explosion."

"Careful, Navarth. That's at the very verge of slander! Remem- ber, there are witnesses."

"Bah! What you have done is piracy and extortion. Writing an article, indeed. Well, then�why didn't you say so in the first place? I too am a writer! Come aboard; we will talk. I am always grateful for some small diversion; a man without friends is a tree without leaves."

Gersen jumped down upon the houseboat; Navarth, now all amiability, arranged chairs where they caught the full play of the pallid sunlight. He brought forth a bottle of white wine. "Sit then;

I HE DEMON PRINCES

396

make yourself at ease'" He opened the bottle, poured, then leaning back in his chair drank with pleasure His face was placid and guile- less, as if all the racial wisdom had passed through leaving no per- ceptible traces. Like Earth, Navarth was old, irresponsible and melancholy, full of a dangerous mirth.

"You are a writer then? I may say you do not correspond to the usual image."

Gersen produced his Cosmopoliv identification. "Mr. Henry Lu- cas," read Navarth "Special writer Why do you come to me? I am no longer heeded, my vogue is a memory Discredited, penurious. Where was my offense^ I sought to express truth in all its vehe- mence. This is a danger. A meaning must be uttered idly, without emphasis. The listener is under no compulsion to react, his custom- ary defenses are not m place, the meaning enters his mind I have much to say about the world, but every year the compulsion dwin- dles. Let them live and die, it is all one to me. WTiat is the scope of your article^"

"Viole Falushe."

Navarth blinked. "An interesting topic, but why come to me?"

"Because you knew him as Vogel Filschner."

"Hm Well, yes. This is a fact not generally known." With fingers suddenly limp Navarth poured more wine "What specifi- cally do you wish^"

"Knowledge."

"I suggest," said Navarth suddenly brisk, "that you seek the information at its source."

Gersen nodded agreement. "Well enough, if I knew where to look. But what if he is off Beyond^ At his Palace of Love."

"This is not the case; he is here on Earth." As soon as Navarth spoke he seemed to regret his ingenuousness and frowned in irri- tation.

Gersen leaned back, his doubts and misgivings dissolved. Vogel Filschner and Viole Falushe were one; here was a man who knew him in both identities.

Navarth had become uneasy and resentful. "A thousand topics more interesting than Viole Falushe "

"How do you know he's on Earth3"

Navarth made a sound of grand scorn. "How do I know any- thing^ 1 am Navarth'" He pointed to a wisp of smoke on the sky. "I see that, I know." He pointed to a dead fish, floating belly up-

THE PAL4LF OF LOVE

ward. "I see that, I know " He raised the bottle of wine, held it up against the sunlight. "I see that, I know "

Gersen reflected a moment m silence. "I am in no position to criticize your epistemology," he said at last "In the first place, I don't understand it Have you no more explicit knowledge of Viole Falushe3"

Navarth attempted to lay his finger slyly alongside his nose, but miscalculating, prodded his eye. "There is a time for bravado and another for caution I still do not know the point of your article."

"It is to be a judicious document, without exaggeration or apol- ogy. I intend that the facts will speak for themselves."

Navarth pursed his lips "A dangerous undertaking. Viole Fa- lushe is the most sensitive of men. Do you recall the princess who detected a pea under forty mattresses3 Viole Falushe can smell out a slur in a blind infant's morning invocation to Kalzibah . . On the other hand, the world revolves, the carpet of knowledge unrolls. Viole Falushe has given me no cause for gratitude."

"Your appraisal of his character then is negative?" asked Gersen cautiously.

Navarth could control himself no longer. He drank wine with a grandiose gesture. "Negative indeed. Were I to give all orders, what a retribution I could create'" He slumped back in his chair, pointed a skinny finger toward the horizon, spoke in a hushed mon- otone. "A pyre tall as a mountain, and Viole Falushe at the top. Platforms surrounding for ten thousand musicians. With a single glance I strike the fire The musicians play while their whisky boils and their instruments melt Viole Falushe sings soprano .. ." He poured more wine. "A wistful vision. It can never be I would be content seeing Viole Falushe drowned or dismembered by lions�"

"You evidently are well acquainted."

Navarth nodded, his gaze fixed on the past "Vogel Filschner read my poetry An imaginative youth, but disoriented How he changed, how he expanded. To his imagination he added control, he is now a great artist."

"Artist3 What manner of artist5"

Navarth dismissed the question as irrelevant. "Never could he have arrived at his present stature without art, without style and proportion. Do not be deceived' Like myself he is a simple man, with the clearest of goals Now you�you are the most complicated

THE. DEMON PRINCES

398

and opaque of men. I see a corner of your mind, then a black film shifts. Are you an Earthman? But tell me nothing." Navarth waved his hands as if to intercept any answer Gersen might feel called upon to make. "There is too much knowledge already in the world;

we use facts as crutches, to the impoverishment of our senses. Facts are falsehoods; logic is deceit. I know a single system of commu- nication: the declaiming of poetry."

"Viole Falushe is also a poet?"

"He has no great art with words," grumbled Navarth, unwilling to relinquish control of the conversation.

"When Viole Falushe visits Earth, where does he stay? Here with you?"

Navarth stared at Gersen unbelievingly. "This is a sorry thought."

"Where then does he stay?"

"Here, there, everywhere. He is as elusive as air."

"How do you seek him out?"

"That I never do. He occasionally visits me."

"And he has done so recently?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Have I not implied as much? Why are you so interested in Viole Falushe?"

"To answer this would be to inflict a fact upon you," said Ger- sen with a grin. "But it's no secret. I represent Cosmopolis magazine and I wish to write an article on his life and activities."

"Hmmf. A popinjay for vanity is Viole Falushe. But why not put your questions to him directly?"

"I would like to do so. First I must make his acquaintance."

"Nothing is easier," declared Navarth, "provided you pay the fees."

"W^hy not? I am on a liberal expense account."

Navarth jumped to his feet, suddenly full of enthusiasm. "We will need a beautiful girl, young, unsullied. She must project a par- ticular quality of scintillance, a susceptibility, a fervor, an urgency." He looked vaguely here and there, as if in search of something he had lost. Up on the dock he spied the girl whom Gersen had seen the day before. Navarth put fingers to his mouth, produced a shrill whistle, signaled the girl to approach. "She'll do very well."

"Is this an unsullied young scintillant?" asked Gersen. "She seems more of a guttersnipe."

"Ha ha," cawed Navarth. "You will see! I am weak and ca-

THE PALACE OF LOVE

399

chectic, but I am Navarth; old as I am, women bloom under my touch. You will see."

The girl came aboard the houseboat, and listened to Navarth's program without comment. "We go forth to dine. Expense means nothing, we shall exalt ourselves with the finest. Prepare yourself then with silks, with jewels, with your most precious unguents. This is a wealthy gentleman, the finest of fellows. WTiat is your name once more?"

"Henry Lucas."

"Henry Lucas. He is impatient to proceed. Go then, prepare yourself."

The girl shrugged. "I am prepared,"

"You are the best judge of this," declared Navarth. "Inside then, while I consult my wardrobe." He glanced at the sky. "A yellow day, a yellow night. I will wear yellow."

He led the way into his saloon, which was furnished with a wooden table, two chairs of carved oak, shelves stuffed with books and oddments, a vase containing several stalks of pampas grass. Na- varth reached into a cabinet for a second flagon of wine, which he opened and banged upon the table, along with glasses. "Drink." With this he disappeared into the next room.

Gersen and the girl were left alone. He examined her covertly. She wore the black skirt of yesterday, with a black short-sleeved blouse, sandals, no jewelry or skin tone, which on Earth was not currently fashionable. The girl had good features, though her hair was a tangle. She was either extremely poised or vastly indifferent. On impulse Gersen took a comb from Navarth's washstand and going to the girl, combed her hair. After a single startled glance she stood, quiet and passive. Gersen wondered what went on in her mind. Was she as mad as Navarth?

"There," he said at last. "You look somewhat less of a raga- muffin."

Navarth returned, wearing a maroon jacket, several sizes too large, a pair of yellow shoes. "You have not tasted the wine." He filled three glasses brimming. "A merry evening in prospect. Here, the three of us; three islands in the sea, on each island a castaway soul. We go forth together, and what shall we find?"

Gersen tasted the wine: a fine heady muscatel; he drank. Na- varth poured the wine down his throat as if he were emptying a bucket into the estuary. The girl drank, without a tremor, without

400 THE DEMON PRINCES

any display of emotion. A strange girl, thought Gersen. Somewhere behind the grave face was flamboyance. What stimulus could bring it forth? What would cause her to laugh?

"Are we ready then?" Navarth looked inquiringly from the girl to Gersen, then threw open the door and ushered them graciously forth. "In search ofViole Falushe!"

From "Viole Falushe," Chapter III of The Demon Princes, by Carl Carphen (Elucidarian Press, New Wexford, Aloy- sius, Vega).

Each of the Demon Princes must cope with the prob- lem of notoriety. Each is sufficiently vain and flamboy- ant (Attel Malagate is the exception) to wish to flourish his personality, to impress his style upon as many lives as possible. Practical considerations, however, make an- onymity and facelessness important, especially as each of the Demon Princes relishes his visits to the worlds of Oikumene. Viole Falushe is no exception. Like Mal- agate, Kokor Hekkus, Lens Larque and Howard Alan Treesong, he Jealously guards his identity, and not even guests at his Palace of Love have seen his face.

In some respects Viole Falushe is the most human of the Demon Princes: which is to say his vices are on a scale of human understanding. The unimaginable cru- elty, reptilian callousness, megalomania, weird mischief exemplified respectively by Kokor Hekkus, Malagate, Lens Larque and Howard Alan Treesong are totally absent. The evil in Viole Falushe can be characterized as arachnid vindictiveness, infantile sensitivity, mon- strous self-indulgence.

His vices aside, there is an oddly appealing aspect to Viole Falushe, a warmth, an idealism: so much is conceded by the most uncompromising moralists. Lis-

THE DKMON PRINCFS

ten to Viole Falushe himself, as he addresses the stu- dents of Cervantes University (by recording, naturallv):

"I am an unhappy man. I am haunted by my in- ability to express the inexpressible, to come to terms with the unknown. The pursuit of beauty is, of course, a major psychological drive. In its various guises� which is to say, the urge to perfection, the yearning to merge with the eternal, the explorer's restlessness, the realization of an Absolute created by ourselves, yet larger than our totality�it is perhaps the most single important human thrust.

"I am tormented by this thrust; I strive, I build; yet, paradoxically, I suffer from the conviction that should I ever achieve my peculiar goals, I might find the results dissatisfying. In this case, the contest is worth more than the victory. I will not describe my own struggle, my griefs, my dark midnights, my heartbreaks. You might find them incomprehensible, or worse, ludicrous.

<t! am often described as an evil man, and while I do not dispute the label, I have not taken the stricture to heart. Evil is a vector quality, operative only in the direction of the vector, and often the acts which incur the most censure do singularly small harm, and often benefit, to the people concerned.

"I am often asked regarding the Palace of Love, but I do not intend to gratify prurient curiosities in this connection. Suffice it to say that I espouse the augmen- tation of awareness, and find no fault with the gratifi- cation of the senses�though I myself practice an asceticism which might surprise you. The Palace of Love extends over a considerable area and is by no means a single structure, but rather a complex of gar- dens, pavillions, halls, domes, towers, promenades and scenic panoramas. The people of the Palace are all young and beautiful and know no other life; they are the happiest of mortals."

So speaks Viole Falushe. Rumors are not so kind to him. He is said to be fascinated with erotic variations and culminations. One of his favorite games (reputedly) is to rear a beautiful maiden with great care in an iso-

THE PAIAU-: OF LOVE 403

lated cloister. She is trained to the knowledge that some day she will meet a miraculous creature who will love her and then kill her . .. and one day she is liberated upon a small island where Viole Falushe awaits.

The Hotel Prince Franz Ludwig was the most elegant rendezvous of Rolingshaven. The main foyer was enormous; it measured two hundred feet on a side, and a hundred feet to the ceiling. Golden light exuded from twelve chandeliers; a deep golden-brown carpet enriched with subtle patterns covered the floor. The walls were covered with silk of pale blue and yellow; the ceiling depicted scenes from a medieval court. The furnishings were of an intricate antique style, solid yet graceful, with cushions of rose or yellow satin, the woodwork lacquered a muted gold. On marble tables stood eight- foot urns from which a profusion of flowers overflowed; beside each table stood a smartly uniformed page boy. Here was a sumptuous intricacy which could be found nowhere but on old Earth. Never before had Gersen entered a place so grand.

Navarth selected a couch near an alcove where a quartet of musicians played a set of capriccios. Navarth summoned a page and ordered champagne.

"Is this where we seek Viole Falushe?" asked Gersen.

"I have seen him here on several occasions," said Navarth. "We shall be on the alert."

Sitting in the murmurous golden room they drank champagne. The girl's black skirt and blouse, her bare brown legs and sandals, whether through paradox or improbable juxtaposition, seemed nei- ther tawdry nor unsuitable, and Gersen was somewhat puzzled. How had she managed the transformation?

Navarth spoke of this and that; the girl said little or nothing. Gersen was content to let events go at their own pace. Indeed, he found himself enjoying the outing. The girl had put down consid- erable wine, but showed no effects. She seemed interested in the people who moved through the great foyer, but in a spirit of de- tachment. At last Gersen asked, "What is your name? I don't know how to speak to you."

The girl did not respond immediately. Navarth said, "Call her what you like. This is my custom. Tonight she is Zan Zu from Eridu."

404 THE DEMON PRINCES

The girl smiled, a brief flicker of amusement. Gersen decided that she was not, after a!l, a lackwit.

"Zan Zu, eh? Is this your name?"

"It's as good as any other."

"The champagne is finished, an excellent vintage. We go to dine!" Navarth rose to his feet, and gave his arm to the girl. Crossing the foyer, they descended four broad stairs into the dining room, which was no less magnificent than the foyer.

Navarth ordered dinner with enthusiasm and finesse; never had Gersen enjoyed a finer meal�one which made him regret the limits imposed by the capacity of his stomach. Navarth ate with voracious enjoyment. Zan Zu of Eridu, as Gersen now thought of the girl, ate delicately, without interest. Gersen watched her sidelong. Was she ill? Had she recently undergone some great sorrow or shock? She seemed composed enough�too composed, considering the wine she had drunk: muscatel, champagne, the various wines Na- varth had ordered to accompany the dinner. . . Well, it made no difference to him, Gersen reflected. His business was with Viole Falushe. Though here at the Hotel Prince Franz Ludwig, in the company of Navarth and Zan Zu, Viole Falushe seemed unreal. With an effort Gersen brought himself back to the business at hand. How easy to be seduced by richness, elegance, exquisite food, the golden light of chandeliers. He asked, "If Viole Falushe is not to be found here, where do you propose to look?"

"I have no set scheme," Navarth explained. "We must move as the mood takes us. Do not forget that Viole Falushe long ago re- garded me as an exemplar. Is it not reasonable to suppose that his program will merge with our own?"

"Reasonable indeed."

"We will test the theory."

They lingered over coffee, trifles of fragrant pastry, quarter- gills of krystaliek; then Gersen paid the dinner check, well over SVU 200, and they departed the Hotel Prince Franz Ludwig.

"Now where?" asked Gersen.

Navarth ruminated. "We are somewhat early. Still, atMikmak's Cabaret there is always amusement of one kind or another, if only in watching the good burghers at their decorous ease."

From Mikmak's Cabaret, they moved on to Paru's, Der Flie- gende Hollander and thence to the Blue Pearl. Each new tavern and cabaret was somewhat less genteel than the previous one, or so

THE PALACE OF LOl^

it seemed. From the Blue Pearl, Navarth led the way to the Sunset Cafe on the Boulevard Caste! Vivence in Ambeules, thereafter to a succession ofwaterfront dives, beer cellars and dance halls. At Za- diel's All-World Rendezvous, Gersen interrupted one of Navarth's dissertations. "Is it here that we can expect Viole Falushe?"

"Where else but here?" demanded the mad poet, now some- what drunk. "Where the heart of Earth beats the thickest blood! Thick, purple, smelling of must, like crocodile blood, the blood of dead lions. Never fear�you will see your man! What was I dis- cussing? My youth, my squandered youth! At one time I worked for Tellur Transit, investigating the contents of lost suitcases. Here, perhaps, I gained my deepest insight into the structure of the hu- man soul . . ."

Gersen sat back in his chair. In the present circumstances pas- sive wariness was the optimum course. To his surprise he found himself slightly drunk, though he had attempted moderation. The colored lights, the music, Navarth's wild talk were probably no less responsible than the alcohol. Zan Zu was as remote as ever; looking sidelong at her, as he had tended to do all evening, Gersen won- dered: what goes on in this umbral creature's mind? WTiat does she hope from life? Does she daydream? Does she yearn for a handsome lover? Does she ache to travel, to visit the outworlds?

From the ancient cathedral on Flammande Heights came twelve reverberating strokes of the bass bell. "The hour is mid- night," croaked Navarth. He rose, swaying, to his feet, looked from Gersen to Zan Zu from Eridu. "Now we proceed."

"WTiere now?" asked Gersen.

Navarth pointed across the street, to a long low pavilion with an eccentric roof and festoons of green lights. "I suggest the Ce- lestial Harmony Cafe, the rendezvous of travelers, spacemen, off- world wanderers, wayward vagabonds such as ourselves."

To the Celestial Harmony Cafe they walked, Navarth declaim- ing upon the poor quality of life in present-day Rolingshaven. "We are stagnant, slowly decaying! WTiere is our vitality? Drained to the outworlds! We have bled our life away! On Earth remain the sickly, the depraved, the cryptic thinkers, the sunset wanderers on the mud flats, the paranoids and involutes, the great epicures, the timid dreamers, the medievalists."

"You have traveled the Oikumene?" Gersen inquired.

"Never has my foot lost contact with the soil of Earth!"

406 THE DEMON PRINCES

"In which of the categories, then, are you included?"

Navarth waved his arms on high. "Have I not inveighed against categories? Here is the Celestial Harmony Cafe! We arrive at the peak of the evening!"

They entered, threaded their way to a table, and Navarth in- stantly ordered a magnum of champagne. The cafe was crowded;

voices, clatter, and shuffle competed with boisterous jigs played by an orchestra of fife, concertina, euphonium and banjo while the clientele danced, cavorted, kicked and pranced after the modes fa- miliar to them. A long bar on a level somewhat higher than the main floor ran the width of the building. Men standing at the railing were silhouetted against the orange and green lights of the bar. At the tables of the main floor sat men and women of every age, race, social condition and degree of sobriety. Most wore European gar- ments, but a few displayed the costumes of other regions and other worlds. Hostesses formal and self-appointed roved here and there, soliciting drinks, dispensing ribald repartee, arranging assignations. The musicians presently took up other instruments: a baritone lute, viola, flute and tympanet, with which they accompanied a troupe of tumblers. Navarth drank champagne with indefatigable zest.

Zan Zu from Eridu looked this way and that, whether from interest, uneasiness, or a sense of suffocation Gersen could not be sure. Her knuckles were white where she held the goblet. She turned her head suddenly, met his gaze; her lips quivered in the faintest possible ghost of a smile�or an embarrassed grimace. She raised the goblet, and sipped her champagne.

Navarth's gayety was at its height. He sang to the music, tapped the table with his fingers, reached to embrace the hostesses, who sidestepped with an air of boredom.

As if struck by a new thought he turned to consider Zan Zu, then inspected Gersen, as if puzzled why Gersen were not more enterprising. Gersen could not resist another glance at Zan Zu, and whether through wine, the colored lights, the ambiance of the eve- ning, the guttersnipe tossing pebbles from a dock was gone. Gersen stared at her. The transformation was astonishing. She was magic, a creature of entrancing intensity.

Navarth was watching, gayety suddenly abandoned. Gersen turned, Navarth looked quickly away. What am I up to? Gersen wondered. What is Navarth up to? ... Reluctantly Gersen rejected

THE PALACE OF LOVE

407

the concepts which had surged up in his mind. He settled back in his chair.

Zan Zu the girl from Eridu looked somberly down at her gob- let. With relief? Sadness? Boredom? Gersen was at a loss to decide. The ways of the girl's mind seemed important indeed. What was he getting into? he asked himself with a pang of bitter anger. He glared at Navarth, who met his gaze blandly. Zan Zu sipped her champagne.

Navarth intoned: "The Vine of Life grows a single melon. The color of the heart is unknown until the rind is split."

Gersen looked out across the tables. Navarth filled his goblet;

Gersen drank. .. Navarth was right. For a gain so wild, so deli- cious, so magic, there must be an initial abandon, a burning of bridges. What of Viole Falushe? What of his basic momentum? And as if in response to these thoughts, Navarth seized his arm. "He is here."

Gersen roused himself from his brooding. "WTiere?"

'There. At the bar."

Gersen scanned the line of men who stood along the railing. Their silhouettes were nearly identical, some looked this way, some that; some held mugs or flasks; others leaned with elbows on the railing. "W^ich is Viole Falushe?"

"See the man who watches the girl? He can see no one else. He is fascinated."

Gersen searched along the line of men. None seemed to be paying any great attention. Navarth whispered in a husky voice:

"She knows! She is even more aware than I!"

Gersen glanced at the girl who seemed uneasy; her fingers fum- bled with the stem of the goblet. As he watched, she glanced across the room at one of the dark shapes. How she had divined the at- tention was beyond Gersen's comprehension.

A waiter approached the girl and spoke into her ear: Gersen could not hear what was said. Zan Zu looked down at the cham- pagne goblet, twisting the stem between her fingers . .. She came to some decision, and putting her hands on the table she rose. Ger- sen felt a surge of passion. Ignoble to sit quietly, to allow this to happen. He had been affronted. He was being pillaged of something which, while it had never belonged to him, nevertheless was his own. With a spasm of terror he wondered if it were too late. He lurched forward. He put his arm around the girl's waist, drew her

408 THE DEMON PRINCES

down upon his lap. She gave him an astounded glance, like one suddenly waking from sleep. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't want you to go."

"Why not?"

Gersen could not bring himself to speak. Zan Zu sat passively, if somewhat primly. Gersen noticed that there were tears in her eyes, that her cheeks were wet. Gersen kissed her cheek; Navarth gave vent to a mad cachinnation. "Never, never does it end!"

Gersen put Zan Zu back on her chair, but held his hand over hers. "What never will end?" he asked in an even voice.

"I too have loved. But what of that? The time for love is past. Now there will be trouble, of course. Do you not understand the sensitivity of Viole Falushe? He is as strange and delicate as a fern frond. He cannot bear deprivation; it sets his teeth on edge and makes him ill."

"This did not occur to me."

"You have acted altogether wrongly," scolded Navarth. "His thoughts were totally for the girl. You need only have followed her, and there would have been Viole Falushe."

"Yes," muttered Gersen. "True�true. I now understand that." He glowered at the wine goblet, then back at the line of silhouettes. Someone was watching; he could sense the attention. There was trouble on the way. He was not in optimum condition, he had not trained in weeks. Additionally he was half drunk.

A man walking past seemed to slip. He reeled into the table, and upset wine into Gersen's lap. He looked into Gersen's face with eyes the color of bone. "Did you trip me, you sneak? I've a mind to spank you like a child."

Gersen studied the man. He had a slab-sided face, close- cropped yellow hair, a short neck as wide as his head. His body was stocky and muscular, the body of a man who spent much of his life on one of the heavy planets. "I don't believe I tripped you," said Gersen. "But sit down. Join us for a glass of wine. Ask your friend to join us as well."

The white-eyed man paused to consider a moment. He came to a decision- "I demand an apology!"

"Certainly," said Gersen. "It was on the tip of my tongue. If in any way I am responsible for causing you inconvenience, I am

�i

sorry.

"This is not enough. I despise foul baboons like yourself who

THE PALACE OF LOVE 409

insult one, then think to smirk themselves free of the conse- quences."

"This is your privilege," said Gersen. "Despise whom you like. But why not bring your friend over to join us? We could find much to talk about. You are from which world?" He raised his glass to drink.

The white-eyed man struck down the glass. "I insist that you leave the premises. You have offended me sufficiently."

Gersen looked across the white-eyed man's shoulder. "Your friend comes, in spite of your asinine braying."

The white-eyed man turned to look, Gersen kicked at his knee, hacked into the bulwark of a neck. Seizing one of the man's arms, Gersen heaved and sent him spinning across the dance floor. The white-eyed man bounced erect without effort, and came back in a running crouch. Gersen pushed a chair into his face; the white-eyed man swept it aside, while Gersen struck him in the stomach. This was ribbed with muscle and hard as oak. The white-eyed man hunched his shoulders, jumped for Gersen, but four bouncers had appeared. Two propelled Gersen to the rear entrance and ejected him; two more escorted the white-eyed man to the front entrance.

Gersen stood disconsolately in the street. The entire evening:

a botchery. What had got into him?

The white-eyed man might well be circling the building to find him. Gersen stepped back into the shadows. After a moment he started cautiously around to the front. At the corner waited the white-eyed man. "Dog's meat. You kicked me, you struck me. It is my turn."

"Best that you go your way," said Gersen in a mild voice. "I am a dangerous man."

"WTiat do you think of me?" The white-eyed man approached;

Gersen backed away, in no mood for roughhousing. He carried weapons, but on Earth killing was not taken lightly. The white- eyed man sidled forward. Gersen's heel came in contact with a bucket. He picked it up, slung it into the man's face, and was quickly around the corner. The white-eyed man came after him. Gersen held out his hand to display his projac. "See this? I can kill you."

The white-eyed man stood back, teeth glinting in contempt.

Gersen went to the front entrance of the Celestial Harmony Cafe, the white-eyed man following at a distance of thirty feet.

410 TIIF DFMON PRINCES

The table was vacant. Navarth and Zan Zu were gone. The lounging figure at the railing^ Lost among the others.

The white-eyed man waited beside the building. Gersen re- flected a moment. Then slowly, as if in reverie, he moved off down the boulevard and turned into a dark side street

He waited. A minute passed. Gersen slid twenty feet farther along to a more favorable position, all the time watching the gap where street met boulevard. But no one passed in front, no one came to investigate.

Gersen waited ten minutes, watching both ways, and presently craning his neck to peer up, on the chance that his enemy was coming over the roofs. At last he returned to the boulevard. The botchery was complete. The white-eyed man, the most immediate link with Viole Falushe, had not bothered to pursue Gersen's ac- quaintance

Seething with frustration, Gersen rode out Boulevard Castel Vivence to the Fitlmgasse. The tug had departed; the houseboat, once more sound of hull, rode dark and silent on the water. Gersen alighted from the cab, went out to stand on the dock. Silence Lights from Dourrai glinted on the estuary.

Gersen shook his head in mournful amusement. What more could be expected from an evening with a mad poet and a girl from Eridu^

He returned to the cab and was conveyed to the Rembrandt Hotel.

The girl I met in Endu Was kind beyond belief;

The hours that I spent with her Were hours far too brief.

WTiere willows shade the river bank, She urged that I recline. She fed me figs and poured me full Of pomegranate wine.

I told of force and time and space, I told of hence and yonder;

I asked if she would come with me To know my worlds of wonder.

She clasped her knees; her voice was soft:

"It dazes me to ponder

The blazing stars and tintamars,

The whirling ways you wander!

"You are you and I am I, And best that you return. And I will stay in Endu With all this yet to learn."

�Navarth

At ten o^clock the following morning Gersen returned to the houseboat. All was changed. The sun was yellow and warm. The sky, shining blue with the blue of Earth, was necked here and there

4!2 THE DF.MON PRINCES

with fair-weather clouds. Navarth sat hunched on his foredeck, sun- ning himself.

Gersen descended the ladder, walked along the landing. He stopped by the gangplank. "Ahoy. May I come aboard?"

Navarth slowly turned his head, inspected Gersen with the hooded yellow eyes of a sick chicken. He shifted his gaze to watch a string of barges sliding silently along on jets of ionized water. He spoke in an even voice. "I have no sympathy for persons of weak liver, who raise their sails only to drift downwind."

Gersen took the remark as implicit permission to board the boat. "Mv shortcomings aside, what eventuated?"

Navarth querulously brushed away the question. "We have strayed. The quest, the undertaking�"

"What quest? What undertaking?"

"�leads by a devious route. First there is sunlight. The road is broad and white, but soon it narrows. At the end is an awesome tragedy. A thousand mind-splitting colors, possibly the sunset. If I were young once more, how I would alter events. I have been blown by winds like a bit of trash. You will find it the same. You failed to seize the occasion. Each chance comes a single time�"

Gersen found the remarks uninspiring. "All this to the side, did you speak last night to Viole Falushe?"

Navarth raised a skinny hand in the air, the palm cupped for- ward. "Tumult, a reel of shapes. Angry faces, flashing eyes, a strug- gle of passions' I sat with a roaring in my ears."

"What then of the girl?"

"I agree in every respect. Magnificent."

"Where is she? Who is she?"

Navarth's attention became fixed upon an object in the water:

a white and gray seagull. Evidently he planned no meaningful re- sponses.

Gersen went on patiently: "WTiat of Viole Falushe? How did vou know he would be at the Celestial Harmony Cafe?"

"Nothing could be simpler. 1 told him that we would be there."

"WTien did you inform him?"

Navarth made a fretful movement. "Your questions are tire- some. Must I set my watch by yours? Must I wisely consult with you? Must I~"

"The question seemed simple enough."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 413

"We live by different referents. Transpose, if you like; I can- not."

Navarth was plainly in a cantankerous mood. Gersen said soothingly, "Well then, for one reason or another, we missed Viole Falushe last night. How do you suggest that we find him now?"

"I make no more suggestions ... What is your concern with Viole Falushe?"

"You forget that I have already explained this to you."

"To be sure .. . Well, as to arranging a meeting, this is no great problem. We will invite him to a small entertainment. A banquet perhaps."

Something in Navarth's tone, or perhaps the quick glittering glance which accompanied the words, put Gersen on his guard.

"You think he would attend?"

"Certainly, if it were a carefully planned affair."

"How can you be sure? How do you know definitely that he is on Earth?"

Navarth raised a monitory finger. "Have "you ever watched a cat walk through the grass? At times it halts, with one paw raised, and calls out. Is there a reason to these sounds?"

Gersen could not trace the linkage of ideas. He said patiently, "WTiat of this party, or banquet, whatever it is to be?"

"Yes, yes, the party!" Navarth had become interested now. "It must be exquisitely arranged, and it will cost a great deal. A million SVU."

"For one party? One banquet? Who is to be invited? The pop- ulation of Sumatra?"

"No. A small affair of twenty guests. But arrangements must be made and quickly. I am a source, an inspiration for Viole Fa- lushe. In sheer majesty he has excelled me. But I will prove that in a smaller compass I am superior. WTiat is a million SVU? I have dreamed away more than this in an hour."

"Very well," said Gersen. "You shall have your million." A day's income, he reflected.

"I will need a week. A week is hardly enough. But we dare delay no longer."

"Why not?"

"Viole Falushe returns to the Palace of Love."

"How do you know?"

Navarth looked off across the water. "Do you realize that a

THE DEMON PRINCES

414

crook of my finger disturbs the farthest star? That every human thought disturbs the psychic parasphere?"

"This is the source of your knowledge�psychic perturba- tions?"

"As good a method as any other. But now as to the party, there are conditions. Art implies discipline; the more excellent the art, the more rigorous the discipline. Hence, you must concede to cer- tain limitations."

"What are they?"

"First the money. Bring me a million SVU immediately!"

"Yes, of course. In a sack?"

Navarth gave an indifferent wave of the hand. "Secondly, I am in charge of arrangements. You may not interfere."

"Is this all?"

"Thirdly, you must conduct yourself with restraint. Otherwise you will not be invited!"

"I would not care to miss this party," said Gersen. "But I too will make conditions. First, Viole Falushe must be present."

"Never fear as to that! Impossible to keep him away."

"Secondly, you must identify him to me."

"No need. He will identify himself."

"Third, I want to know how you plan to invite him."

"How else? I call him by telephone, just as I call my other guests."

"What is his number code?"

"He can be reached by coding SORA-6152."

Gersen nodded. "Very well. I will bring you your money at once."

Gersen returned to the Rembrandt Hotel, where he had a reflective lunch. How mad was Navarth? His spasms of lunacy alternated with periods of canny practicality, both somehow conducing to Na- varth's convenience. The call code SORA-6152, now; Navarth had yielded it with suspicious facility . . . Gersen could no longer re- strain his curiosity. He went to a nearby booth, banked the lens, touched the buttons. The presentation appeared: the outline of a startled human face. A voice spoke: "Who calls?"

Gersen frowned, bent his head forward. The voice spoke again:

"Who calls?" It was Navarth's voice.

Gersen said, "I wish to speak to Viole Falushe."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 415

'Who calls?"

"One who wishes to make his acquaintance."

"Please leave your name and call number; in due course you may receive a return call." And Gersen thought he heard a poorly suppressed chuckle.

Thoughtfully he left the booth. Galling to be outwitted by a mad poet. He went to the Bank of Vega, called for and received a million SVU in cash. He packed the notes into a case, returned by cab out Boulevard Castel Vivence to the Fitlmgasse. As he alighted he saw Zan Zu, the girl from Eridu, emerging from a fishmonger's shop with a paper cornucopia full of fried smelt. She wore her black skirt, her hair was a tousle, but some of the magic of two nights before still hung about her. She went to sit on an old baulk, and looking out across the estuary munched the fish. Gersen thought she appeared tired, listless, a trifle haggard. He proceeded to the houseboat.

Navarth took the money with a noncommittal grunt. "The party then, seven days hence."

"Have you issued invitations?"

"Not yet. Leave all to me. Viole Falushe will be among the guests."

"I presume you will call him at SORA-6152?"

"Of course." Navarth nodded three times, with great gravity. "Where else?"

"And Zan Zu�she is to come?"

"Zan Zu?"

"Zan Zu, the girl from Eridu."

"Oh�that one. It might not be wise."

The man's name was Hollister Hausredel; his position: registrar at the Philidor Bohus Lyceum. He was a man of early middle-age, with an almost total lack of distinguishing characteristics. He wore modest gray and black and lived in one of the Sluicht apartment towers with his wife and two small children.

Gersen, deciding that his business with Hausredel would go best at a maximum distance from the school, approached him as he left the tube escalator a hundred yards from his apartment building.

"Mr. Hausredel?"

"Yes?" Hausredel was somewhat startled.

"I wonder if we might talk for a moment or two." Gersen in-

416 THK DEMON PRINCKS

dicated a nearby coffee bar. "Perhaps you would have a cup of coffee with me."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"A matter concerning a service vou can do for me, to vour profit."

The talk went without difficulty; Hausredel was more flexible than his superior, Dr. Willern Ledinger. On the following day Hausredel met Gersen at the coffee bar, with a large paper enve- lope. "Here we are. All went well. You have the money?"

Gersen passed across an envelope. Hausredel opened the flap, counted, tested one or two of the notes with his fake-meter. "Good. I hope I have helped you as much as you have helped me." And shaking Gersen's hand warmly, he departed the coffee bar.

Gersen opened the envelope. He extracted two photographs copied from those in the school archives. For the first time Gersen saw the face ofVogel Filschner. It was a sullen face. Black eyebrows canted down over burning black eyes, the mouth hung in a discon- tented droop. Voge) had not been a handsome boy. His nose was long and lumpy, his cheeks were puffy with hahy fat, his black hair was overlong and even in the photograph seemed unclean. A more striking contradiction to the popular image of Violc Falushe was hard to imagine. But of course this was Vogel Filschner at the age of fifteen, and many changes had undoubtedly taken place.

The other picture was that of Jheral Tin?y�a delightfully pretty girl; her black hair glossy�her mouth pursed as if she were restraining a mischievous secret. Gersen studied the picture at length. It afforded him rather more perplexity than illumination, inasmuch as the face in the photograph was almost exactly that of Zan Zu, the girl from Eridu.

Thoughtfully Gersen examined the remaining material in the envelope; information regarding other members of Vogel Fil- schner's class with the present whereabouts�when it was known.

Gersen returned to the picture of Jheral Tinzy. The coquetry was absent in the face of Zan Zu: otherwise one was a replica of the other. The resemblance could not be accidental.

Gersen rode bv tube to Station Hedrick in Ambeules and took the now familiar route up Boulevard Castel Vivence.

The time was early evening; sunset color still lingered along the estuary. The houseboat was dark; no one responded to Gersen's rapping. He tested the button: the door slid open.

THE PALACE OF LOVE 417

Gersen entered, the lights came aglow. He went to Navarth's telescreen. The code, as he had expected, was SORA-6152. The crafty Navarth! To the side was an index. Gersen looked through the listings, finding nothing of interest. He scrutinized the wall, the underside of the shelf, the top molding of the telescreen, on the chance that Navarth might have noted down a number he did not care to entrust to his index, but he found nothing. From the shelf Gersen took down an untidy portfolio, containing ballads, odes, dithyrambs: "A Growl for Gruel"; "The Juices I Have Tramped";

"I Am a Darting Minstrel"; "They Pass!"; "Drusilla's Dream";

"Castles in the Clouds and the Anxieties of Those Who Live Di- rectly Below by Reason of Falling Objects and Wastes."

Gersen put the poems aside. He inspected the bedrooms. On the ceiling of the one occupied by Navarth was the photograph of a naked woman, twice life-size, arms high and outspread, legs ex- tended and stretched apart, hair afloat, as if she were engaged in a vigorous leaping calisthenic. Navarth's wardrobe contained a fan- tastic assortment of costumes of every style and color; on a shelf were hats, caps, and helmets. Gersen explored the drawers and cab- inets, finding many unexpected objects, but none which seemed to bear upon the matter at hand.

There were two other small bedrooms, furnished in a rather spartan manner. One of these was pervaded with faint sweet per- fume: violet, or lilac; in the other was a desk, and here, by a window overlooking the estuary, Navarth evidently created his poetry. The desk was crammed with notes, names, apostrophes and allusions� a discouraging volume of material which Gersen did not even trou- ble to explore.

He returned to the main saloon and pouring himself a glass of Navarth's fine moscato, dimmed the lights and settled into the most comfortable chair.

An hour passed. The last traces of afterglow departed the sky;

the lights of Dourrai glistened on the waves. A dark shape became visible, a hundred yards offshore�a small boat. It approached the houseboat; there was the rattle of oars being shipped and footsteps on the deck. The door slid back. Zan Zu entered the half-dark saloon. She gasped in fear and sprang back.

Gersen caught her arm. "Wait, don't run away. I've been wait- ing to talk to you."

Zan Zu relaxed and came into the saloon. Gersen turned up

418 11 IF DFV10N PRINCES

the lights Zan Zu sat warily on the edge of a bench 7 onight she wore black trousers, a dark blue |acket, her hair was tied back with black ribbon, her face was white and wan

Gersen looked at her a moment "/\re you hungry:"

She nodded

"Come along then "

In a nearby restaurant she ate with an appetite which nullified Gersen's doubts as to the state of her health "Navarth calls you Zan Zu, is that your name7"

"No "

"What is your name7"

"I don't know I don't think I have a name "

"What: No name: Everyone has a name "

"I don't"

"Where do you live: With Navarth:"

"Yes For as long as I remember."

"And he has never told you your name7"

"He has called me by many names," said Zan Zu somewhat ruefully "I rather like not having a name, I am anyone I wish to be"

"WT-io would you like most to be7"

She flashed Gersen a sardonic glance, gave her shoulders a shrug Hardly a talkative girl, thought Gersen.

She asked a sudden question "Why are you interested in me:"

"For various reasons, some complicated, some simple To begin with, you're a pretty girl "

Zan Zu considered the statement a moment "Do you think so indeed:"

"Hasn't anyone else told \ou as much:"

"No "

Strange, thought Gersen

"1 talk to very few men Or women Navarth tells me there is danger "

"What kind of danger:"

"Slavers I don't care to be a slave "

"Understandable Aren't you afraid oi me:"

"A little"

Gersen signaled a waiter After consultation he ordered a large piece of cherry torte floating in whipped cream, which was set be- fore Zan Zu from Endu

THE PALACE OF LOVE 419

"Well then," said Gersen, "have you been to school:"

"Not a great deal." Gersen learned that Navarth had taken her here and there to odd corners of the world remote villages and islands, gray cities of the north, resorts of Smkiang, the Sahara Sea, the Levant There had been an occasional tutor, seasons at some- what unusual schools, much reading of Navarth's books "Not a very orthodox education," Gersen remarked

"It suits me well enough "

"And Navarth�what is his relationship to you:"

"I don^t know He has always been there Sometimes he is�" she hesitated "Sometimes he is kind, other times he seems to hate me.. I don't understand, but then I am not particularly inter- ested Navarth is Navarth "

"He's never mentioned your parents7"

"Never."

"Haven't you asked him:"

"Oh, yes Several times When he is sober he becomes flam- boyant Aphrodite rose from seafoam Lilith isas the sister of an ancient god Arremce sprang to life when lightning struck a rose tree And I may select a source at my own discretion "

Gersen listened, surprised and amused

"WTien Navarth is drunk, or when he is exalted with poetry, he tells me more, but perhaps it is less�he frightens me He speaks of the journey I ask 'journey where:' and he won't say But it must be something terrible . I don't want to go "

She fell silent The conversation, so Gersen noticed, had not diminished the gusto with which she attacked the torte "Has he ever mentioned a man named Viole Falushe:"

"Perhaps I have not listened "

"Vogel Filschner7"

"No Who are these men7"

"The same man Using different names Do you remember, at the Celestial Harmony Cafe, the man who stood by the railing:"

Zan Zu looked down into her coffee cup, gave a slow thoughtful nod.

"Who was he:"

"I don't know Why do you ask:"

"Because you started to go to him "

"Yes I know."

"W^hy: If you don't know him:"

420 THE DEMON PRINCES

The girl twisted the cup back and forth, watching the swirls of black liquid. "It's hard to explain. I knew he was watching me. He wanted me to come. Navarth had brought me there. And you were there. As if everyone wanted me to go to him. As if I were�some- thing to be sacrificed. I was dizzy. The room was unsteady. Perhaps I had drunk too much wine. But I wanted to have it all over with. If this were mv fate, I would know . .. But you wouldn't let me go. I remember this much. And I�" She stopped, and took her hands away from the coffee cup. "Anyway, I know you mean me no harm."

Gersen said nothing. Zan Zu asked tentatively, "Do you?"

"No. Are you finished?"

They returned to the houseboat, which was as they had left it. "Where is Navarth?" Gersen asked.

"He prepares for his party. He is tremendously excited. Since you have come all is different."

"And after I left the Celestial Harmony Cafe the other night, what happened?"

Zan Zu frowned. "There was talk. It seems there were lights in my eyes, orange and green blurs. The man came to the table, and stood looking down at me. He spoke to Navarth."

"Did you look at him?"

"No. I don't think so."

"What did he say to Navarth?"

Zan Zu shook her head. "There was a sound in my ears, like rushing water, or the roar of the wind. I didn't hear. The man touched my shoulder."

"And after that�what?"

Zan Zu grimaced. "I don't remember ... I can't remember."

"She was drunk!" cried out a voice. Navarth rushed into the saloon. "Carefully drunk! What are you doing aboard my private houseboat?"

"I came to learn how you are spending my money."

"All is as before. Now depart at once."

"Come, come," said Cersen patiently. "This is a cavalier tone to take with the man who repaired your houseboat."

"After first stoving it in? Bah! Has there ever been an act to equal it?"

"I understand that in your youth you contrived a few outrages of your own."

THE PALACE OF LOVE 421

"In my youth?" sputtered Navarth. "I have contrived outrages all my life!"

"What of the party?"

"It is to be a poetic episode, an exercise in experiential art. I think it best that you do not attend this particular party, as�"

"WTiat? I'm paying for it! If I don't come, give me back my money."

Navarth flung himself petulantly into a chair. "I expected you to take this line."

"I'm afraid so. Where is the party to be held?"

"We meet at the village Kussines, twenty miles to the east. The rendezvous is precisely at the hour of two in the afternoon, in front of the inn. You must wear harlequinade and a domino."

"Viole Falushe is to come?"

"Indeed, indeed; have I not made all clear?"

"Not altogether. All are to wear dominoes?"

"Naturally."

"How will I recognize Viole Falushe?"

"What a question to ask. How can he hide? Black radiation hangs about him. He exudes a dread sensation."

"These qualities may be obvious," said Gersen. "Still�how else may he be identified?"

"You must determine this at the time. At the moment, I do not know myself."

At ten minutes before the appointed hour, Gersen parked his rented air car in a meadow on the outskirts of Kussines and alighted. A cloak concealed the harlequinade; he carried the domino in his pocket.

The afternoon was soft and sunny, fragrant with the exhalations of autumn. Navarth could hardly have hoped for a finer day, thought Gersen. He checked his garments carefully. The harle- quinade offered little scope for concealment, but Gersen had made the best of the situation. Inserted horizontally into his belt was a blade of thin keen glass, the buckle serving as a handle. Under his left arm hung a projac; in his right sleeve was poison. Thus encum- bered, Gersen swept his cloak about him and marched into the village�a collection of ancient black iron and melt-stone structures on the shore of a small lake. The setting was bucolic and charming, almost medieval; the inn, perhaps the newest structure of the vil- lage, was at least four hundred years old. As Gersen approached, a young man in gray and black stepped forward. "For the afternoon party, sir?"

Gersen nodded and was led to a dock at the edge of the lake, where a canopied boat awaited. "Domino, please," said the young man in uniform. Gersen donned the mask, stepped aboard the boat and was conveyed to the opposite shore.

It seemed that he was one of the last to arrive. At a semicircular buffet stood perhaps twenty other guests, all self-conscious in their costumes. One who could only be Navarth came forward, divested Gersen of his cloak. "While we wait, taste this vintage; it is supple and light and will amuse you."

Gersen took the wine and stepped aside. Twenty men and

THE PALACE OF LOVE 423

women: which was Viole Falushe? If he were present, he was not readily apparent- A slender young woman stood stiffly nearby, hold- ing her goblet as if it contained vinegar. Navarth had allowed Zan Zu to the party after all, thought Gersen. Or dragooned her into coming, to judge by her attitude. He counted. Ten men, eleven women. If parity of sexes were to be observed, there still remained at least one man to arrive. Even as Gersen counted the white- canopied punt drifted into the dock; a man stepped ashore. He was tall, lean; his manner combined indolent ease with taut wariness. Gersen inspected him carefully. If this were not Viole Falushe, he must be considered the most likely candidate. The man slowly ap- proached the group. Navarth hurried forward with a crouch that was almost servile and took the cloak which the man tossed to him. With the cloak hung on its peg, a goblet of wine in the newcomer's hand, Navarth's ebullience returned. He waved his arms, walked back and forth with long springing strides- "Friends and guests, all are now arrived: a chosen group of nymphs and undergods, poets and philosophers. Notice, as we stand here in the meadow, our patterns of orange and red, and black and red; we contrive an un- conscious pavan! We are performers, participants and spectators at the same time. The frame within which spontaneity is confined� the theme, so to speak�is that which I have ordained; the varia- tions, and intricacies, counterplay and development is our mutual concern. We must be subtle and free, carefully reckless, at all times consonant; our figures must never leave the chord!" Navarth held his goblet up to a shaft of sunlight, drank with a grand flourish, then pointed dramatically through the trees. "Follow me!"

Fifty yards away was a charabanc with a tasselled yellow canopy, the sides enameled in red, orange and green. Benches cushioned in bright orange plush ran along the sides. In the center kneeling mar- ble satyrs supported a marble slab on which were dozens of bottles of every size, shape and color, all containing the same soft wine.

The guests climbed aboard, the charabanc slid off, silent and easy on its repulsion skids.

Through a beautiful park drifted the charabanc. Magnificent vistas opened on all sides. The guests gradually discarded restraint;

there was conversation and laughter, but for the most part all were content to sip the wine and enjoy the autumn scenery.

Gersen scrutinized each man in turn. The last man to arrive still seemed the most likely candidate for the identity of Viole Fa-

THE, DI-'.MON PRINCES

424

lushe; Gersen thought of him as Possibility No. 1. But at least four others were tall, lean, dark and composed�Possibilities No. 2, No. 3, No. 4 and No. 5.

The charabanc halted; the group stepped down into a meadow sprinkled with purple and white asters. Navarth, hopping and skip- ping like a young goat, led the group under a grove ot tall trees. The time was now about three o'clock; afternoon sunlight slanted through the masses of golden leaves, to play upon a great nig of tan and golden silk with a border of gray-greens and blues. Beyond stood a silken pavilion supported by white spiral poles.

Spaced around the rug -were twenty-two tall peacock-tail chairs. Beside each stood an antique tabouret of ebony inlaid with mother- of-pearl and cinnabar, with a vermilion bowl of crystallized spice on each. Working by some mysterious rationale Navarth arranged his guests in the splendid chairs. Gersen found himself at one end of the rug with Zan Zu several chairs distant, and the five possi- bilities at the far side. From somewhere came music, or more ac- curately near-music: a succession of wry quiet chords, sometimes so soft as to be unheard, sometimes so complex as to be equivocal and perplexing, never completing or fulfilling a progression, always of a haunting sweetness.

Navarth took his own place, and all sat quietly. From the pa- vilion came ten young girls naked but for golden slippers and yellow roses over their ears. They bore trays on which were goblets of heavy green glass, containing the same delicate wine as before.

Navarth remained in his chair; the other guests were content to do likewise. Sun-drenched yellow leaves floated down to the golden rug; an aromatic odor hung in the air. Gersen sipped his wine cautiously; he could not afford to be lulled, soothed. Close at hand was Viole Falushe, a situation for which he had paid a million SVU. The sly Navarth had not kept the letter of his promise. Where was the "aura of black radiation" Navarth had mentioned? It seemed to hang heaviest around Possibilities No. 1, No. 2 and No. 3, but in this regard Gersen was disinclined to trust his para- psychic powers.

A tension, an expectancy began to be felt. Navarth sat crouched in the chair as if already bemused. The naked girls, dappled by sunlight and leaf-shadow, poured wine, moving slowly as if walking under water. Navarth lifted his head, as if hearing a voice or a tar- off sound. He spoke in an exultant voice, and the vagrant chords

THE PALACE OF LOVE 425

seemed to match themselves to the rhythm of his speech, creating music. "Some here have known emotion in many phases. No one can know every emotion, for these are both infinite and fugitive. Some here are unaware, untouched, unexplored�and know it not. See me! I am Navarth, called the mad poet! But is not every poet mad? It is inevitable. His nerves are conductive and transport un- containable gushes of energy. He fears�how he fears! He feels the movement of time; between his fingers it is a warm pulsing, as if he grasped an exposed artery. At a sound�a distant laugh, a ripple of water, a gust of wind�he becomes sick and faints, because never in all the extent of time can this sound, this ripple, this gust recur. Here is the deafening tragedy of the journey which we all under- take! Would the mad poet want it to be different? Never exulting? Never desperate? Never clasping life against his bare nerves?" Na- varth leapt to his feet and danced a jig. "All here are mad poets. If you would eat, the delicacies of the world await. If you would re- flect, sit in your chairs and watch the fall of the leaves. Notice how slow is their motion; here time has slowed on our behalf. If you would exalt yourself, this magnificent vintage never cloys nor stu- pefies. If you would explore erotic proximities or middle distances or indistinct horizons: bowers and dells surround us." His voice descended an octave; the chords became measured and slow. "There can be no light without shade, no sound without silence. Exultation skips along the verge of pain. I am the mad poet, I am Life! Hence, by the inevitable consequence, Death is here as well. But where Life cries out its meanings, Death sits quiet. Look then among the masks!"

And Navarth pointed from one silent harlequin to another around the circle. "Death is here, Death watches Life. It is not witless, aimless Death. It is Death with a snuff cap, intent on a single candle. So do not fear, unless you have cause to fear�" Navarth turned his head. "Listen!"

From far away came the merry sound of music. It grew louder and louder still, and into the glade marched four musicians: one with castanets, one with guitar and two fiddlers�and they played the most impelling and merry of jigs�enough to set the pulses racing. Suddenly they stopped short in their music. The castanet player brought forth a flute, and now the music was of a heart- breaking melancholy. And playing in this fashion, they moved off through the trees and presently were lost to hearing. The soft in-

426 TIIF. DEMON PRINCES

decisive chords went on as before, without beginning or end, as easy and natural as breathing.

Gersen had become uneasy. Circumstances were moving be- yond his control. In this harlequinade, he felt inept. Was this an- other ofNavarth's craftv plovs? Were Viole Falushe to stand before him now and announce himself, Gersen could never act. The au- tumn air was heavy with haze; the wine had made him maudlin. He could never spill blood on the magnificent rug of tawny tan and gold. Nor even on the carpet of golden leaves beyond.

Gersen leaned back in his chair, amused and disgusted with himself. Very well then, for the moment he would sit and reflect. Some of the other guests were stirring. Perhaps Navarth's talk of death had chilled them, for they moved tentatively and carefully. Gersen wondered to whom Navarth had referred, in his talk of death . . . The girls moved sedately along the line of chairs, pouring wine. As one bent near Gersen, he caught the scent of her yellow rose; straightening, she smiled at him, and passed on to the next guest.

Gersen drank the wine. He leaned back in the chair. Even if he had become detached and passionless, he could yet speculate. Cer- tain of the guests had risen to their feet and leaving their high- backed chairs, they mingled and talked in soft husky voices. Possibility No. 1 stood brooding. Possibility No. 2 stared fixedly at Zan Zu. Possibility No. 3, like Gersen, sprawled in his chair. Pos- sibilities No. 4 and No. 5 were among those talking.

Gersen looked toward Navarth. What next? Navarth's inten- tion must extend beyond the instant. What more had he planned? Gersen called to him. Navarth turned aside reluctantly.

Gersen asked, "Is Viole Falushe here?"

"Tish!" exclaimed Navarth. "You are a monomaniac!"

"I have been told as much before. W^ell, is he here?"

"I invited twenty-one guests. Counting myself, twenty-two are present. Viole Falushe is here."

"WWiishe?"

"I don't know."

"What? You don't know?" Gersen sat upright, aroused from his lethargy by Navarth's double-dealing. "We must have no mis- understanding, Navarth. You accepted a million SVU from me, agreeing to fulfill certain conditions."

"And I have done so," snapped Navarth. "The simple truth is

THE PAIACV. OF LOVE

427

that I do not know in what semblance Viole Falushe currently walks. I knew the boy Vogel P'ilschner well. Viole Falushe has al- tered his face and his manner. He might be one of three or four. Unless I were to unmask this group, send away those I recognized until one remained, I could not give you Viole Falushe."

"V^ry well, this we shall do."

Navarth w^uld not submit. "My life might well be slid from my body by one route or another. I object to this. I am a mad poet, not a lummox."

"Immaterial. This is how we will act. Be so kind as to summon your candidates into the pavilion."

"No, no!" croaked Navarth. "It is impossible. There is an easier way. Watch the girl. He will go to her, and then you will know."

"A half dozen might go to her."

"Then claim her. Only one man would challenge you."

"And if no one challenges?"

Navarth held out his arms. "What can you lose?"

Both turned to look toward the girl. Gersen said, "WTiat can I lose indeed? What is her relationship to you?"

"She is the daughter of an old friend," declared Navarth suavely. "She is, in effect, my ward; I have been at pains to nurture her and bring her nicely to maturity."

"And this now accomplished, you offer her here and there to passing strangers?"

"The conversation becomes tiresome," said Navarth. "Look. A man approaches the girl!"

Gersen swung around. Possibility No. 2 had approached Zan Zu and was talking in a manner unmistakably ardent. Zan Zu lis- tened politely. As in the Celestial I larmony Cafe, Gersen felt a surge of emotion: lust? jealousy? protective instinct? Whatever the nature of the urge, it compelled him to step forward and join the two.

"You are enjoying the party?" Gersen asked with factitious good-fellowship. "A wonderful day for such an outing. Navarth is a magnificent host; still, he has introduced no one to no one. What is your name?"

Possibility No. 2 answered courteously: "Navarth doubtless has good reason for the neglect; best that we do not divulge our iden- tities."

428 THK DEMON PRINCES

"Sensible," said Gersen. He turned to Zan Zu. "Still, what is your opinion?"

"I have no identity to divulge."

Possibility No. 2 suggested: "Why not approach Navarth and inquire his thoughts on the subject?"

"I think not. Navarth would become confused. He has pro- pounded a fallacy. He seems to advocate intimate relationships be- tween walking costumes. Is this feasible? I doubt it. Certainly not at the level of intensity Navarth would insist upon."

"Quite so, quite so," said Possibility No. 2. "Be a good fellow and leave us to ourselves. The young lady and I were enjoying a private discussion."

"My apologies for interrupting you. But the young lady and I already had planned to gather flowers from the meadow."

"You are mistaken," said Possibility No. 2. "When all wear harlequinade, error is easy."

"If there has been an error, it is for the best, as I prefer this delightful young flower-picker to the last. Be so good as to excuse us."

Possibility No. 2 was amiability itself. "Really, my good fellow, your facetiousness has run its course. Surely you must see that you are intruding?"

"I think not. In a party of this sort, where experience is to be clasped to the naked nerves, where Death walks, there is wisdom in flexibility. Notice the woman yonder. She appears loquacious and prepared to discuss every subject in your repertory. WTly not join her and chat away to your heart's content?"

"But it is you she admires," said Possibility No. 2 brusquely- "Be off with you."

Gersen turned to Zan Zu. "Apparently you must make the choice. Conversation or wildflowers?"

Zan Zu hesitated, looking from one to the other. Possibility No. 2 fixed her with a gaze of burning intensity. "Choose, if indeed there is a choice between this lout and myself. Choose�but choose carefully."

Zan Zu demurely turned to Gersen. "Let us pick flowers."

Possibility No. 2 stared, looked away toward Navarth as if to call upon him to intercede, then thought better of it and walked away.

Zan Zu asked, "Are you really anxious to pick wildflowers?"

THE PAf.-SC!': Of- im-'f': 429

"You know who I am?"

"Of course."

"I don't care to pick wildflowers, unless you do."

"Oh . . . What then do you want of me?"

Gersen found the question hard to answer. "I do not know myself."

Zan Zu took his arm. "Let us go to look for flowers, and per- haps we will find out."

Gersen looked around the group. Possibility No. 2 watched from a distance. Possibilities No. 1 and No. 3 appeared to pay them no heed. They started off through the trees, Zan Zu leaning on his arm. Gersen put his arm around her waist; she sighed.

Possibility No. 2 gave a quick jerk of the shoulders, and by this motion seemed to cast off restraint. He came after Gersen with soft portentous strides; in his hand he carried a small weapon. Behind� Gersen saw in a near-instantaneous glimpse�stood Navarth, look- ing after them, his posture a curious superimposition of shame on glee.

Gersen pushed Zan Zu to the ground, ducked behind a tree. Possibility No. 2 halted. He turned toward Zan Zu, and to Gersen's shocked amazement, pointed his weapon. Gersen leapt from behind the tree and struck the man's arm; the weapon threw a sear of energy into the ground. The two confronted each other, eyes blaz- ing with mutual hate ... A shrill blast of whistle. From the forest came the thud of heavy feet; gendarmes swarmed forth, a dozen or more, urged by a lieutenant in a golden helmet and a furious old man in brocaded gray.

Navarth stepped forward haughtily. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

The old man, who was short and overweight, bounded torward to shake his fist. "What the devil are you up to, trespassing upon my private property? You are a jackanapes! And these naked girls� an absolute scandal!"

In a stern voice Navarth demanded of the lieutenant: "WTio is this old rogue? W^hat right does he have to intrude upon a private party?"

Now the old man, stepping forward, discerned the rug, and went pale. "Behold!" he whispered huskily. "My priceless silk Sik- kim nig! Spread out for these rascals to cavort upon. And my chairs, oh my precious Bahadurs! W'Tiat else have they stolen?"

430 THE DEMON PRINCFS

"This is balderdash'" stormed Navarth "I have rented these premises and hired the furniture The owner is Baron Caspar Heaulmes, who is at a samtonum for his health "

"I am Baron Caspar Heaulmes1" cried the old man. "I do not know your name, sir, behind that ridiculous mask, but I perceive you to be a blackguard' Lieutenant, do your duty Take them all away I insist on the fullest investigation'"

Navarth threw his hands into the air, and argued the case from a dozen viewpoints, but the lieutenant was inexorable "I fear I must take all into custody Baron Heaulmes is making a formal com- plaint "

Gersen, standing to the side, had been watching with great in- terest, simultaneously noting the movements of Possibilities No 1, No 2, No. 3. Whichever was Viole Falushe�and it would seem to be Possibility No 2�he would be sweating heavily at this mo- ment once he were arrested and taken into court, his identity must become known

Possibility No 1 stood dour and dismal, Possibility No 2 was carefully assessing the situation, looking this way and that, Possi- bility No 3 seemed unconcerned, even amused

The lieutenant by this time had seized Navarth, charging him with trespass, theft, offenses against public morality and simple as- sault�the latter arising from his attempt to kick Baron Heaulmes The remaining gendarmes now commenced to herd the guests to- ward a pair of carcel-wagons which had descended to the meadow. Possibility No. 2 loitered at the edge of the group and, taking ad- vantage of Navarth's obstreperous behavior, slipped behind a tree Gersen raised up a shout, a pair of gendarmes looked around, bawled peremptory orders and marched forward to conduct Pos- sibility No 2 to the carcel-wagons Possibility No 2 jumped back among the trees, when the gendarmes ran m pursuit, there came a dire flash of radiation�once, twice, and two men lay dead Possi- bility No 2 sprinted away through the forest and was lost to view Gersen gave chase, but halted after a hundred yards, fearing am- bush

Shedding his mask, he ran to the semicircular buffet beside the pond, where he found and donned his cloak The punt ferried him across the lake to the outskirts of Kussmes

Five minutes later he reached his air car and took it aloft He hovered several minutes, searching the air space If Possibility No

THE PALACE OF LOVL 431

2 had arrived by air car, he must likewise be taking himself aloft. And also, thought Gersen, patrol craft would be converging on the scene of the murders One man m harlequinade looked much like another, the sooner he was gone the better And Gersen flew full speed back toward Rolingshaven

From the Rolingshaven Mundus:

Kussines, September 30: Two agents of the county gendarmery this afternoon were murdered by a guest at a mysterious orgy on the estate of Baron Caspar Heaul- mes at Kussines. In the confusion attendant upon the violence, the murderer made good a temporary escape and is believed to be hiding in the woods. His name has not yet been made public.

Host and ringleader at the bacchanalian fete was the notorious poet and free-thinker Navarth, whose esca- pades have long edified the citizens of Rolingshaven . ..

The article goes on to describe the circumstances of the murder. The names of the persons taken into custody are listed.

From the Rolingshaven Mzmdus:

Rolingshaven, October 2: Victim of an inexplicable attack was lan Kelly, 32, of London, who last night was waylaid in the Bissgasse and viciously beaten to death. There is no clue as to the identity of his assailant and no apparent motive. Ketly figured in the news two days ago as a guest at the poet Navarth's fantastic party on the estate of Baron Caspar Heaulmes. Police are work-

THE PALACE OF LOVE

ing on the theory that the two circumstances are con- nected- Article for Cosmopolis:

VIOLE FALUSHR

by Navarth

PART I: THE BOY

Notorious as much for his fascinating Palace of Love as for the ghastly score of his crimes is Viole Falushe, the Demon Prince. Who is he, what is he? I, perhaps better than anyone alive, am able to calculate his motives and an- alyze his acts. I have little knowledge of the man as he is today. If he were to pass me on the street I would not recognize him. But I can say this much: judging by Viole Falushe as a youth, I find the popular concept of Viole Fa- lushe�which is to say, a man handsome, elegant, gay, ro- mantic�impossible to credit. The notion is, in fact, startling and ludicrous.

I first met Viole Falushe when he was fourteen. His name was then Vogel Filschner. If the man resembles the boy, his celebrated amours can only have been achieved through duress or drugs. As all know, I am jealous of my reputation for dispassionate candor, and to this end inter- viewed all the women who, as girls, knew Vogel Filschner well. I withhold their names, for obvious reasons. Repre- sentative comments:

"a boy preoccupied with every sort of nastiness."

"Vogel was utterly repellent, though there were boys far uglier than he in our class. Four years I knew him, and instead of learning to take pains with himself he became worse."

"I could never bear to sit next to Vogel. He smelled badly, as if he never changed his socks or his underwear, I'm sure he never washed his hands and possibly never bathed."

434 THE DEMON PRINCES

"Vogel Filschner! I suppose it was not all his fault. His mother must have been a sloven. He had disgusting per- sonal habits, such as picking his nose and examining the yield, making queer gulping noises, and above all smelling."

These are representative remarks; indeed, some of the milder comments. I am a man, above all, fair and judicious;

hence I quote none of the more extravagant anecdotes.

Let me describe Vogel Filschner as I knew him. He was tall and arachnid, with spindly legs and an unhealthy round belly. To complete the somewhat spiderlike illusion were his round cheeks and pink proboscis of a nose. To his credit he admired my poetry, though I fear that Vogel distorted my doctrines beyond recognition. I preach augmented ex- istence; Vogel wanted me to approve his solipsistic ruth- lessness.

The first occasion I was approached by Vogel Filschner was at the time of my celebrated contretemps with Dame Amelie Pallemont-Dalhouse, in connection with my spon- sorship of her daughter Earline, which of course is a fas- cinating tale in itself. In any event, Vogel appeared one morning with some wretched doggerel he had written. It seems that Vogel's juices were flowing, that he was in love with a pretty girl who needless to say was far from flattered by the compliment.. .

The article continued for several pages.

On October 3, Navarth, having paid exemplary damages of SVU 50,000 to Baron Caspar Heaulmes, was discharged from the court, which likewise dismissed charges against Navarth's guests.

Gersen met Navarth on the mall in front of the Justice Courts. Navarth at first made as if he would pass without deigning to rec- ognize Gersen, but Gersen finally was able to divert him to the table of a nearby cafe.

"Justice, bah!" Navarth made a grimace toward the courts. "Think of it! Money I must pay that vindictive and sanctimonious unmentionable. He should have indemnified me! Did he not disrupt the party? What did he hope to gain, running forth from the forest like that?" Navarth paused to moisten his throat with the beer Ger-

THE PAIACV. W LOVE 435

sen had ordered. "It is enough to turn a man sour." He set the mug down with a thump and turned a yellow glance toward Gersen. "What do you want of me now? Another exercise in bathos? I warn you, I will not be so malleable a second time."

Gersen displayed the newspaper articles dealing with the event. Navarth refused to look at them. "A wretched lot of nonsense, sheer scurrility. You journalists are all alike."

"I notice that yesterday a certain lan Kelly was murdered."

"Yes, poor Kelly. Did you come to the arraignment?"

"No."

"Then you missed your chance, because among the crowd was Viole Falushe. He is the most sensitive of men and cannot forget an injury. lan Kelly was unlucky enough to resemble you in size and manner." Navarth shook his head ruefully. "Ah, that Vogel. He detests frustration as a bee sting."

"Do the police know the murderer is Viole Falushe?"

"I told them he was a man I met in a bar. What else could I

�' if sayr

Gersen had no reply to make. He indicated the article once more. "Twenty names are listed, which refers to Zan Zu?"

Navarth made a contemptuous gesture toward the article. "Se- lect as you like. One is as accurate as the next."

"One of these names must refer to her," said Gersen. "Which?"

"How should I know what name she chooses to supply the police? I believe I will drink more beer. The argument has parched my throat."

"I see here a 'Drusilla Wavles, age eighteen.' Is this she?"

"Quite possibly, possibly indeed."

"And this is her name?"

"Merciful Kalzibah! Must she own a name? A name is a weight! A chain to a set of uncontrolled circumstances. To own no name is to own freedom! Are you so stolid then that you cannot imagine a person without a name? She is what one chooses to call her."

"Strange," said Gersen. "She exactly resembles the Jheral Tinzy of thirty years ago."

Navarth jerked back in his chair. "How do you know this?"

"I have not been idle. For example, I have produced this." Ger- sen produced a dummy CosmopoUs. From the cover looked the face of young Vogel Filschner superimposed upon the outline of a tall

436 THK DEMON PRINCES

ominous gray figure. Below was the caption: The Young Viole Fa- lushe, Vogel Filschner As I Knew Him, by Navarth.

Navarth seized the dummy, read the article aghast. He raised his hands to his head. "He'll kill us all! He'll drown us in dog vomit! He'll grow trees in our ears!"

"The article seems balanced and judicious," said Gersen. "Cer- tainly he can take no offense at facts."

Navarth read farther, and went into a new paroxysm of dismay. "You have signed my name! I never wrote all that!"

"It's all true."

"The more so! When is this to be published?"

"In a week or two."

"Impossible. I forbid it."

"In that case, return me the money I lent you, that you might finance your party."

"Lent?" Navarth was shocked anew. "That was no loan! You paid me, you hired me to produce a party, at which Viole Falushe would be present."

"You did neither. Baron Heaulmes, it is true, truncated your party, but this is no affair of mine. And where was Viole Falushe? You can point to the murderer, but this means nothing to me. Please return the money."

"I cannot, I have spent money like water! And Baron Heaulmes demanded his pound of flesh."

"Well, return me the nine hundred thousand SVU you have left."

"WTiat? I have no such sum on hand'"

"Perhaps we can set aside a portion as your payment for this article, but�"

"No, no! The article must not be published!"

"Best that we have a complete understanding," said Gersen. "You have not told me all."

"For which I am grateful. You have published the rest." Na- varth kneaded his forehead, "These have been terrible days. Have you no pity for poor old Navarth?"

Gersen laughed. "You plotted to get me killed. You knew that Viole Falushe would attempt to possess Drusilla Wayles, or Zan Zu, whatever her name. You knew that I would not allow it. lan Kelly paid his life in my place."