Constant Fire

"Perhaps Doctor Volospion could find something for me in one of those old cities," she mused. "I'll ask him. Not that he seems to be doing me many favours, these days. How long's he had the Fireclown now? A couple of weeks? And spending all his time down there. Maybe he loves Bloom and that's what it's all about." She laughed, but immediately became miserable again.

"Oh, Mavis. Why is it always you? The world just isn't on your side." She gave one of her fu

"If only I could have gone back in time, to the 20th century, even, where the sort of clothes and lifestyle they had were so graceful. They had simpler lives, then. Oh, I know they must have had their problems, but how I wish I could be there now! It's what I was looking forward to, when they elected me to be the first person to try out the time machine. Of course, it was proof of how popular I was with the other guys at the department. Everyone agreed unanimously that I should be the first to go. It was a great honour."

Apparently this thought did not succeed in lifting her spirits. She raised a hand to her head.

"Oh, oh — here comes the headache! Poor old Mavis!"

She began to pad back towards the big circular bed. But the thought of a continuance of those dreams, even though she had pushed them right out of her mind, stopped her. It had been Doctor Volospion's suggestion that she continue to lead the sort of life she had been used to — with regular periods of darkness and daylight and a corresponding need to sleep and eat, even though he could easily have changed all that for her.

To be fair to him, she thought, he tended to follow a similar routine himself, ever since he had heard that Lord Jagged of Canaria had adopted this ancient affectation. If she had had a power ring or an air car at her disposal (again she was completely reliant on Volospion's good graces) she would have left the palace and gone to find some fun, something to take her mind off things. She looked at her Wi

"I'm not much better off than that little creep down there," she said. "Oh, Mavis, what sort of a state have they got you into!"

A tap, now, at the door.

Grateful for the interruption, Mavis pulled on her fluffy blue dressing-robe. "Come in!"

Doctor Volospion, a satanic Hamlet in black and white doublet and hose, entered her room. "You are not sleeping, Miss Ming? I heard your voice as I passed…"

Hope revealed itself in her eyes. "I've got a bit of a headache, Doctor." He could normally cure her headaches. Her mood improved. She became eager, anxious to win his approval. "Silly little Mavis is having nightmares again."

"You are unhappy?"

"Oh, no! In this lovely room? In your lovely palace? It's everything a little girl dreams about. It's just that awful Mr Bloom. Ever since…"

"I see." The saturnine features showed enlightenment. "You are still afraid. He can never escape, Miss Ming. He has tried, but I assure you my powers are far greater than his. He becomes tiresome, but he is no threat."

"You'll let him go, then?"

"If I could be sure that he would leave the planet, for he fails to be as entertaining as I had hoped. And if he would give me that Grail of his, from which his power, I am now certain, derives. But he refuses."

"You could take it now, couldn't you?"

"Not from him. Not from his ship. The screen is still impenetrable. No, you are our only hope."

"Me?"

"He would not have allowed himself to be trapped at all, if it had not been for you." Doctor Volospion sighed deeply. "Well, I have just returned from visiting him again. I have offered him his liberty in return for that one piece of property, but he fobs me off with arguments that are typically specious, with vague talk of Faith and Trust — you have heard his babble."

Mavis murmured sympathetically. "I've never seen you so cast down, Doctor Volospion. You never know with some people, do you? He's best locked up for his own good. He's a sort of cripple, isn't he? You know what some cripples are like. You can't blame them. It's the frustration. It's all bottled up in them. It turns them into sex maniacs."

"To do him justice, Miss Ming, his interest seems only in you. I have offered him many women, both real and artificial, from the menageries. Many of them are very beautiful, but he insists that none of them has your 'soul,' your — um — true beauty."

"Really?" She was sceptical, still. "He's insane. A lot of men are like that. That's one of the reasons I gave them up. At least with a lady you know where you are on that score. And Mr Bloom has got about as much sex-appeal as a seagull — less! Did you ever hear of a really sweet old book called Jonathan…"

"Your headache is better, Miss Ming?"

"Why, yes." She touched her hair. "It's almost gone. Did you…?"

Doctor Volospion drew his own brows together and traced beringed fingers across the creases. "You do not give yourself enough credit, Miss Ming…"

She smiled. "That's what Betty was always telling me when I used to feel low. But poor old Mavis…"

"He demands that you see him. He speaks of nothing else."

"Oh!" She paused. She shook her head. "No, I couldn't, really. As it is, I haven't had a good night's sleep since the day he arrived."

"Of course, I understand."

Miss Ming was touched by Doctor Volospion's unusual sadness. He seemed to have none of his usual confidence. She moved closer to him.

"Don't worry, Doctor Volospion. Maybe it would be best if you tried to forget about him."

"I need the Grail. I am obsessed with it. And I ca

"Impossible. You're far too clever. Why is this Grail so important to you?"

Doctor Volospion withdrew from her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Only you can help me, Miss Ming."

The apparent pleading in his voice moved her to heights of sympathy. "Oh…"

"You could convince him, I think, where I could not."

She was relenting, against all her instincts. "Well, if I saw him for a few moments … And it might help me, too — to lay the ghost, if you know what I mean."

His voice was low. "I should be very grateful to you, Miss Ming. Perhaps we should go immediately."

She hesitated. Then she patted his arm. "Oh, all right. Give me a few minutes to get dressed."

With a deep bow, Doctor Volospion left the room.

Miss Ming began to consider her clothes. On the one hand, she thought, some sort of sexless boiler suit would be best, to dampen Mr Bloom's ardour as much as possible. Another impulse was to put on her very sexiest clothes, to feed her vanity. In the end she compromised, do

As they descended flights of stone stairs she observed: "Surprisingly I'm feeling quite light-headed. Almost gay!"

They passed through the tiered rows of his many devotional trophies, past the bones and the sticks and the bits of cloth, the cauldrons, idols, masks and weapons, the crowns and the boxes, the scrolls, tablets and books, the prayer-wheels and crystals and ju-jus, until they reached the door of the first section of the menagerie, the Jewish House.

"I had thought of putting him in here," Doctor Volospion told her as they passed by the inmates, who ranted, wailed, chanted, tore their clothing or merely turned aside as they passed, "but finally I decided on the Non-Sectarian Prophet House."