Chapter Six
Before I left I spoke to Madame Lu. “I wish to give the Last House a gift,” I said. “I wish to build a new House in the environs of Beijing, in the heart of China. With gardens exotic and fragrant, and trees from the four corners of the world.”
“I thank you, Doran,” Madame Lu said, her eyes as still as a windless pond, and deeper. “But I have no wish to move to Beijing. There are too many ghosts there. I would not live where I could not look to the north and see Victoria across the blue of the bay, or turn to the west and see Lan Tao in its beauty, or to the south and look across Lamma to the sea.”
“You speak of ghosts,” I said. “Soon there will be a true ghost here, a spirit all your incense and flowers will not keep away. I speak from experience. Please accept my gift in Peking.”
Her eyes were troubled but she shook her head briefly. “I will not leave,” she said, “even if my every pavilion were to become the abode of spirits.”
I pictured Snaggles flowing like a dark wave between the bitter orange and jasmine, his huge insinuant form creeping among the foundations of the Scarlet House. Perhaps no one would ever see him, but they would know his presence and it would turn the perfumes bitter. The girls and their customers would evaporate. The House would be a sad place then, haunted truly, not only by Snaggles but by the lonely presence of this last immortal Madame, watching her House, her city, her life decay at the touch of the invader.
“The ghost will come,” I said. “I cannot prevent it. But when he comes, take comfort from the fact that he will not stay long. A few years at the most, and then your House will be clean again. Remember what I say.”
“I will remember, Doran Falkner,” said Madame Lu. “And I thank you for the warning. But I shall not move.”
“As you wish. But the gift of the gardens in Beijing is still yours.”
“You are generous,” she told me. I flinched at the touch of those fathomless eyes. “You are generous as many of my customers are generous. Because their conscience will not leave them alone. Because their conscience says pay, and I will be easier. But I want no man’s conscience money. I have a conscience of my own, you see.”
I bowed. “You are wise, Madame Lu,” I said, “but your judgment is in error. My gift comes not from conscience but from policy.”
She cocked her head to one side, like a bird, and said nothing, being too wise to contradict my lies. “Come again to my House,” she said, after a time. “You are always welcome here.”
I thanked her, and before I departed I gave the comic to Lilah. It was worth a fortune— whatever a fortune is worth these days. But still, it was worth far more than the normal cost of the two days I spent in the Last Scarlet House.
The condoms I kept and later sent to the Museum of the Forbidden City with my compliments. Their robot museum director sent me a letter of thanks and informed me that the gift had been catalogued and placed in storage. It thoughtfully included the catalogue number in case I wanted to see them again. It must have been an old robot, the kind with no sense of humor.
From Hong Kong I sped east across the Pacific, then across the bulk of the American continent to Tampa. Branwen was still in residence and I persuaded her to postpone her trip to Utah for another week. Joe left after a few days— although we had met several times before, I think I still intimidated him. All those old Diehard sermons in childhood, mentioning me by name— and then here I was, simultaneously Evil incarnate and his girlfriend’s crotchety old dad, offering to cook supper so he and Branwen wouldn’t miss their day on the beach. I hoped it would make him do some hard thinking about his religion and what he had been brought up to believe, but I doubted that it would. He just wasn’t the questioning sort.
His departure left me alone with Branwen, and we did a lot of talking: about Joe and Kathryn and her old friends the centaurs, and about what McGivern wanted from me and what I was likely to do about it. We talked so often, and so deeply, that I think she understood what my answer to McGivern was going to be before I did. The last night we drank old brandy, sitting cross-legged on the deep pile rug of my big house in Tampa, and she looked at me and gave me a private smile.
“You look pleased with yourself,” I said. “May I share?”
Her smile broadened, turned to a laugh. “Yes,” she replied. “I’ve made an appointment tomorrow. For the first treatment.”
I felt mad relief and leaned forward to give her a hug. Her tawny hair brushed across my cheek and I felt her warmth and joy. “I’m very happy,” I said. “I was afraid—”
“Joe tried. But he couldn’t make me change my mind. I want to be around when the centaurs begin to repopulate this place and fly out to the stars. It’s the only way.”
“And Joe?” I asked.
“He’ll probably be unhappy when I tell him,” she answered. Her eyes looked gravely into mine. “Not as unhappy as his church, though. It would be quite a coup for them to convert the devil’s daughter.”
“They may order him to break with you,” I said, “now that they’ve lost.”
“That,” she said sensibly, “will be Joe’s decision. When he makes it, I’ll be ready, either way.”
I hugged her again, feeling once more the long throb of relief. Knowing I wouldn’t lose Branwen to the avalanche of time would make my decision about Amaterasu easier. The devil and his daughter would be together once again, both young and both forever.
Branwen and I got roaring drunk and ended the evening singing filthy limericks and diving into the ocean before heading for our separate couches.
By morning I’d made my decision. When I told Branwen, I noticed she wasn’t surprised.
“Have fun with your new revolution, Dad,” she said. “I’ll make sure the centaurs don’t forget you.”
I gave her a long hug and made her promise to communicate with Kathryn as often as she could bring herself to do it. Then I sent a message to McGivern, took a leave of absence at the university and headed east again. Across the world, to Delphi.