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y from the creature with a glimmer of superstition in his eyes。 Why hadn't the fellow fought back or fallen？ Anything but this sickening passivity。
〃Get out；〃 Gentle told him。
Pie still stood his ground； watching him with forgiving eyes。
〃Will you get out？〃 Gentle said again； more softly； and this time the martyr replied。
〃If you wish。〃
〃I wish。〃
He watched Pie 'oh' pah stoop to pick up the scattered clothes。 Tomorrow； this would all e clear in his head； he thought。 He'd have shat this delirium out of his system； and these events…Jude； the chase； his near rape at the hands of the assassin…would be a tale to tell Klein and Clem and Taylor when he got back to London。 They'd be entertained。 Aware now that he was mo〃re naked than the other man； he turned to the bed and dragged a sheet off it to cover himself with。
There was a strange moment then； when he knew the bastard was still in the room； still watching him； and all he could do was wait for him to leave。 Strange because it reminded him of other bedroom partings： sheets tangled； sweat cooling； confusion and self…reproach keeping glances at bay。 He waited； and waited； and finally heard the door close。 Even then he didn't turn； but listened to the room to be certain there was only one breath in it： his own。 When he finally looked back and saw that Pie 'oh' pah had gone； he pulled the sheet up around him like a toga； concealing himself from the absence in the room； which stared back at him too much like a reflection for his peace of mind。 Then he locked the suite door and stumbled back to bed； listening to his drugged head whine like the empty telephone line。
9
Oscar Esmond Godolphin always recited a little prayer in praise of democracy when； after one of his trips to the Dominions； he stepped back onto English soil。 Extraordinary as those visits were…and as warmly weled as he found himself in the diverse Kesparates of Yzordderrex…the city…state was an autocracy of the most extreme kind； its excesses dwarfing the repressions of the country he'd been born in。 Especially of late。 Even his great friend and business partner in the Second Dominion； Hebbert Nuits…St…Georges； called Peccable by those who knew him well； a merchant who had made substantial profit from the superstitious and the woebegone in the Second Dominion； regularly remarked that the order of Yzordderrex was growing less stable by the day and he would soon take his family out of the city； indeed out of the Dominion entirely； and find a new home where he would not have to smell burning bodies when he opened his windows in the morning。 So far； it was only talk。 Godolphin knew Peccable well enough to be certain that until he'd exhausted his supply of idols； relics； and jujus from the Fifth and could make no more profit； he'd stay put。 And given that it was Godolphin himself who supplied these items…most were simply terrestrial trivia； revered in the Dominions because of their place of origin… and given that he would not cease to do so as long as the fever of collection was upon him and he could exchange such items for artifacts from the Imajica； Peccable's business would flourish。 It was a trade in talismans； and neither man was likely to tire of it soon。
Nor did Godolphin tire of being an Englishman in that most un…English of cities。 He was instantly recognizable in the small but influential circle he kept。 A large man in every way； he was tall and big…bellied： bellicose when fondest； hearty when not。 At fifty…two he had long ago found his style and was more than fortable with it。 True； he concealed his second and third chins beneath a gray…brown beard that only got an efficient trimming at the hands of Peccable's eldest daughter； Hoi…Polloi。 True； he attempted to look a little more learned by wearing silver…rimmed spectacles that were dwarfed by his large face but were； he thought； all the more pedagoguish because they didn't flatter。 But these were little deceits。 They helped to make him unmistakable； which he liked。 He wore his thinning hair short and his collars long； preferring for dress a clash of tweeds and a striped shirt； always a tie； invariably a waistcoat。 All in all； a difficult sight to ignore； which suited him fine。 Nothing was more likely to bring a smile to his face than being told he was talked about。 It was usually with affection。
There was no smile on his face now； however； as he stepped out of the site of the Reconciliation…known euphemistically as the Retreat…to find Dowd sitting perched on a shooting stick a few yards from the door。 It was early afternoon but the sun was already low。in the sky； the air as chilly as Dowd's wele。 It was almost enough to make him turn around and go back to Yzordderrex； revolution or no。
〃Why do I think you haven't e here with sparkling news？〃 he said。
Dowd rose with his usual theatricality。 〃I'm afraid you're absolutely correct；〃 he said。
〃Let me guess： the government fell！ The house burned down。〃 His face dropped。 〃Not my brother？〃 he said。 〃Not Charlie？〃 He tried to read Dowd's face。 〃What： dead？ A massive coronary。 When was the funeral？〃
〃No； he's alive。 But the problem lies with him。〃
〃Always has。 Always has。 Will you fetch my goods and chattels out of the folly？ We'll talk as we walk。 Go on in； will you？ There's nothing there that's going to bite。〃
Dowd had stayed out of the Retreat all the time he'd waited for Godolphin （a wearisome three days）； even though it would have given him some measure of protection against the bitter cold。 Not that his system was susceptible to such disforts； but he fancied himself an empathic soul； and his time on Earth had taught him to feel cold as an intellectual concept； if not a physical one； and he might have wished to take shelter。 Anywhere other than the Retreat。 Not only had many esoterics died there （and he didn't enjoy the proximity of death unless he'd been its bringer）； but the Retreat was a passing place between the Fifth Dominion and the other four； including； of course； the home from which he was in permanent exile。 To be so close to the door through which his home lay； and be prevented by the conjurations of his first keeper； Joshua Godolphin； from opening that door； was painful。 The cold was preferable。
He stepped inside now； however； having no choice in the matter。 The Retreat had been built in neoclassical style： twelve marble pillars rising to support a dome that called for decoration but had none。 The plainness of the whole lent it gravity and a certain functionalism which was not inappropriate。 It was； after all； no more than a station； built to serve countless passengers and now used by only one。 On the floor； set in the middle of the elaborate mosaic that appeared to be the building's sole concession to prettifica…tion but was in fact the evidence of its true purpose； were the bundles of artifacts Godolphin brought back from his travels； neatly tied up by Hoi…Polloi Nuits…St。…Georges； the knots encrusted with scarlet sealing wax。 It was her present delight； this business with the wax； and Dowd cursed it； given that it fell to him to unpack these treasures。 He crossed to the center of the mosaic； light on his heels。 This was tremulous terrain； and he didn't trust it。 But moments later he emerged with his freight； to find that Godolphin was already marching out of the copse that screened the Retreat from both the house （empty； of course； in ruins） and any casual spy who peered over the wall。 He took a deep breath and went after his master； knowing the explanation ahead would not be easy。
〃So they've summoned me； have they？〃 Oscar said； as they drove back into London； the traffic thickening with the dusk。 〃Well； let them wait。〃
〃You're not going to tell them you're here？〃
〃In my time； not in theirs。 This is a mess； Dowdy。 A wretched mess。〃
〃You told me to help Estabrook if he needed it。〃
〃Helping him hire an assassin isn't what I had in mind。〃
〃Chant was very discreet。〃
〃Death makes you that way； I find。 You really have made a pig's ear of the whole thing。〃
〃I protest；〃 said Dowd。 〃What else was I supposed to do？ You knew he wanted the woman dead； and you washed your hands of it。〃
〃All true；〃 said Godolphin。 〃She is dead； I assume？〃
〃I don't think so。 I've been scouring the papers； and there's no mention。〃
〃So why did you have Chant killed？〃
Here Dowd was more cautious in his account。 If he said too little； Godolphin would suspect him of concealment。 Too much； and the larger picture might bee apparent。 The longer his employer stayed in ignorance of the scale of the stakes； the better。 He proffered two explanations； both ready and waiting。
〃For one thing； the man was more unreliable than I'd thought。 Drunk and maudlin half the time。 And I think he knew more than was good for either you or your brother。 He might have ended up finding out about your travels。〃
〃Instead it's the Society that's suspicious。〃
〃It's unfortunate the way these things turn out。〃
〃Unfortunate； my arse。 A total balls…up is what it is。〃
〃I'm very sorry。〃
〃I know you are； Dowdy；〃 Oscar said。 〃The point is； where do we find a scapegoat？〃
〃Your brother？〃
〃Perhaps；〃 Godolphin replied； cannily concealing the degree to which this sugg