The Ancient Shadows

"Lord Jagged!"

She was alone.

She began to run through the yellow and brown corridors until she reached the hangar. She climbed into her air car and sat there, unable to give it instructions, unable to decide in which direction she should search first. The miniature palaces of yesterday? Were they not a favourite playground for the pair? She told the car its destination, ordered maximum speed.

But the Gothic village was deserted. She searched every turret, every hall into which she could squeeze her body, and she called their names until her voice cracked. At last she clambered back into her car. She recalled that Miss Ming was still resident at Doctor Volospion's menagerie.

"Doctor Volospion's," she told the car.

Doctor Volospion's dwelling stood upon several cliffs of white marble and blue basalt, its various wings linked by slender, curving bridges of the same materials. Minarets, domes, conical towers, skyscraper blocks, sloping roofs and windows filled with some reflective but transparent material gave it an appearance of considerable antiquity, though it was actually only a few days old. Dafnish Armatuce had seen it once before, but she had never visited it, and now her difficulty lay in discovering the appropriate entrance.

It took many panic-filled minutes of circling about before she was hailed, from the roof of one of the skyscrapers, by Doctor Volospion himself, resplendent in rippling green silks, his skin coloured to match. "Dafnish Armatuce! Have you come to accept my tryst? O, rarest of beauties, my heart is cast already — see — at your feet." And he gestured, twisting a ring. She looked down, kicking the pulsing, bloody thing aside. "I seek my Snuffles," she cried. "And Miss Ming. Are they here?"

"They were. To arrange your surprise. You'll be pleased. You'll be pleased. But have patience — come to me, splendid one."

"Surprise? What have they done?"

"Oh, I ca

"Explain yourself, Doctor Volospion."

"Perhaps, when the confidences of the bedchamber are exchanged…"

"Where did they go?"

"Back. To Canaria. It was for you. Miss Ming was overjoyed by what I was able to accomplish. The work of a moment, of course, but the skill is in the swiftness." With a wave of his hand he changed his costume to roaring red. The light of the flames flooded his face with shadow. But she had left him.

As she fled back to Canaria, she thought she heard Doctor Volospion's laughter; and she knew that her mind could not be her own if she detected mockery in his mirth.

On her right the insubstantial buildings of Djer streamed past, writhing with gloomy colour, muttering to themselves as they strove to recall some forgotten function, some lost experience, re-creating, from a memory partially disintegrated, indistinct outlines of buildings, beasts or men, calling out fragments of song or scientific formulae; almost piteous, this place, which had once served Man proudly, in the spirit with which she served the Armatuce, so that she permitted herself a pang of understanding, for she and the city shared a common grief.

"Ah, how much better it might have been had we stayed there," she said aloud.

The city cried out to her as if in reply, as if imploringly:

The world is too much with us; late and soon ,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

She did not understand the meaning of the words, but she replied: "You could have helped me, but I was afraid of you. I feared your variety, your wealth." Then the car had borne her on, and soon Canaria's graceful cage loomed into view, glittering in sparse sunshine, its gold all pale.

With tense impatience she stood stiffly in the car while it docked, until she could leap free, ru

It was when she had pushed open the heavy doors of Lord Jagged's Hall of Antiquities that she saw three figures standing at the far end, beneath a wall mounted with a hundred examples of heavy Dawn Age furniture. They appeared to be discussing a large piece in dark wood, set with mirrors, brass and mother-of-pearl, full of small drawers and pigeonholes from which imitation doves poked their little heads and crooned. Elsewhere were displayed fabrics, cooking utensils, vehicles, weapons, technical apparatus, entertainment structures, musical instruments, clothing from mankind's first few thousand years of true planetary dominance.

The three she saw were all adults, and she guessed initially that they might, themselves, be exhibits, but as she approached she saw, with lifting heart, that one of them was Lord Jagged and another was Miss Ming. Her anger with Miss Ming turned to a

"Miss Ming!"

Three heads turned.

"You took Snuffles. Where is he now?"

"We went to visit Doctor Volospion, dearest Dafnish. We thought you would not notice. You yourself gave me the idea when you told me to remind Snuffles of his destiny. It's my present to you." She fluttered winsome lashes. "Because I care so much for you. A tribute of my admiration for the wonderful way you've tried to do your best for your son. Well, Dafnish, I have put your misery at an end. No more sacrifices for you!"

Dafnish Armatuce did not listen, for the tone was as familiar to her as it was distasteful. "Where is Snuffles now?" she repeated.

The youth, standing behind Miss Ming, laughed, but Lord Jagged was frowning.

Miss Ming's oversweet smile spread across her pallid face. "I have done you a favour, Dafnish. It's a surprise, dear." Two clammy hands tried to fold themselves around one of Dafnish's, but she pulled away. Miss Ming had to be content with clinging to an arm. "I know you'll be pleased. It's what you've looked forward to, what you've worked for. And it means real freedom for us."

"Freedom? What do you mean? Where is my Snuffles?"

Again the stranger laughed, spreading his arms wide, showing off exotic garments — blue moleskin tabard stitched with silver, shirt of brown velvet with brocaded cuffs, puffed out at the shoulders to a height of at least two feet, hose which curled with snakes of varicoloured light, boots whose feet were the heads of living, glaring dragons, the whole smelling strongly of musk — and pouting in his peacock pride. "Here, mama!"

She stared.

The youth waltzed forward, the smile languid, the eyes half-closed. "I am your son! It is my destiny come to fulfilment at last. Miss Ming has made a man of me!"

Miss Ming preened herself, murmuring with false modesty: "With Doctor Volospion's help. My idea — his execution."

Dafnish Armatuce swayed on her feet as she stared. The face was longer, more effeminate, the eyes large, darker, luminous, the hair pure blond; but something of Snuffles, something of herself, was still there. There were emeralds in his lobes. His brows had been slimmed and their line exaggerated; the lips, though naturally red, were too full and too bright.

Dafnish Armatuce groaned and her fingers fled to cover her face. A hand touched her shoulder. She shook it off and Lord Jagged apologized.

Miss Ming's voice celebrated the spirit of comfiness: "It's a shock, of course, at first, until you understand what it means. You don't have to die!"

"Die?" She looked with loathing upon Miss Ming's complacent features.

"He is a man and you are free. Snuffles explained something of your customs to me."