"I need no luxuries and I desire only one woman. She shall be mine soon enough."
"It would make Miss Ming happy, I am sure, if you became my g— if you used my house."
"You are determined, I think, to misunderstand my mission upon this world. I have come to re-fire the Earth, as its Leader and its Hero. To restore Love and Madness and Idealism to their proper eminence. To infuse your blood with the stuff that makes it race, that makes the heart beat and the head swim! Look about you, manikin, and tell me if you see any heroes. You no longer have heroes — and you have such paltry villains!"
"It does not seem reasonable of you to judge by us three alone," said Abu Thaleb.
"Three's enough. Enough to tell the general condition of the whole. Your society is revealed in your language, your gestures, your costumes, your landscapes! Oh, how sad, how ruined, how unfulfilled you are! Ah, how you must have longed, in your secret thoughts, those thoughts hidden even from yourselves, for me to return. And look now — you still do not realize it."
He smiled benevolently down on them, standing near the entrance to his ship.
"But that realization shall dawn anon, be sure of that. You ask me to live in one of your houses — in a tomb, I say. And could I bear to leave my ship behind? My much-named ship, the Golden Hind? Or Firedrake call her, Virgin Flame — Pi-meson or the Magdelaine — sailing out of Carthage, Tyre, Old Bristol or Bombay: Captain Emmanuel Bloom, late of Jerusalem, founder of the Mayan faith, builder of pyramids, called Ra or Raleigh, dependent on your taste — Kubla Khan or Prester John, Baldur, Mithras, Zoroaster — the Sun's Fool, for I bring you Flame in which to drown! I am blooming Bloom, blunderer through the million planes — I am Bloom, the booming drum of destiny. I am Bloom — the Fireclown! Aha! Now you know me!"
The three faces stared blankly up.
He leaned with his hand against the entrance to the airlock, his head on his shoulder, his eye beady and intelligent. "Eh?"
Doctor Volospion remained uncharacteristically placatory. "Perhaps you could enlighten us over a meal? You must be hungry. We can offer the choicest foods to suit the most demanding of tastes. Please, Mr Bloom, I ask again that you reconsider…"
"No."
"You feel I have misinterpreted you, I know. But I am an earnest student. I remain a mite confused. Your penchant for metaphor…"
The Fireclown clapped a tiny hand to a tiny knee. He frowned at Doctor Volospion. "One metaphor is worth a million of your euphemisms, Doctor Volospion. I have problems to consider and must seek solitude. I have poetry to write — or to recall — I forget which — and need time for meditation. I should accept your invitation for it is my duty to broaden your mind — but that duty can wait."
He turned again to regard the woman.
"You'll join me now, Miss Ming?"
His huge blue eyes flashed suddenly with an intelligence, a humour, which shocked her completely from her hard-won composure.
"What?" The response was mindless.
He stretched out a hand. "Come with me now. I offer you pain and knowledge, lust and freedom. Hm?"
She began to rise, as if mesmerized. She seemed to be shivering. Then she sat down. "Certainly not!"
Emmanuel Bloom laughed. "You'll come." He returned his attention to Doctor Volospion. "And I would advise you, sir, to save your breath in this meaningless and puny Temptation. Your hatred of me is patent, whether you admit it to yourself or not. I would warn you to cease your irritation."
"You still refuse to believe my good faith, Mr Bloom. So be it." Doctor Volospion bowed low.
The ramp was withdrawn. The airlock shut.
No further sound escaped the ship.
8. In which Miss Ming begins to feel a certain curiosity concerning the intentions of Emmanuel Bloom
If anyone at the End of Time expected Mr Bloom to begin immediately to exercise his particular plans for bringing Salvation to the planet they were to be disappointed, for his extravagant spaceship (which the fashion of the moment declared to be in hideous taste) remained where it landed and Emmanuel Bloom, the Fireclown, did not re-emerge. A few sightseers came to view the ship — the usual sensation-seekers like the Duke of Queens (who wanted to put the ship at once into his collection of ancient flying machines), My Lady Charlotina of Below the Lake, O'Kala Incarnadine, Sweet Orb Mace, the Iron Orchid, Bishop Castle and their various followers, imitators and hangers-on — but in spite of all sorts of hallooings, bangings, catcalls, lettings-off of fireworks, obscene displays (on the part of the ladies who were curious to see what Miss Ming's most ardent suitor really looked like) and the rest, the great Saviour of Mankind refused to reveal himself; nothing occurred which could be interpreted as action on the Fireclown's part. No fires swept the Earth, no thunders or lightnings broke the calm of the skies, there was no destruction of artefacts nor any further demolition of landscapes. Indeed, it was singularly peaceful, even for the End of Time, and certain people became almost resentful of Mr Bloom's refusal to attempt, at least, a miracle or two.
"Doctor Volospion exaggerated!" pronounced My Lady Charlotina, all in blue and sage, the colours of dreams, as she lunched on a green and recently constructed hillside overlooking the ship (it now stood in clouds of daisies, a memento of the Duke of Queens' pastoral phase which had lasted scarcely the equivalent of an ancient Earth summer) and raised a turnip (another memento) to her ethereal lips. "You know his obsessions, my dear O'Kala. His taste for monks and gurus and the like."
O'Kala Incarnadine, currently a gigantic fieldmouse, nibbled at the lemon he held in both front paws. "I am not familiar with the creatures," he said.
"They are not creatures, exactly. They are a kind of person. Lord Jagged was good enough to inform me about them, although, of course, I have forgotten most of what he said. My point is, O'Kala, that Doctor Volospion wished this Mr Bloom to be like a guru and so interpreted his words accordingly."
"But Miss Ming confirmed…"
"Miss Ming!"
O'Kala shrugged his mousy shoulders in assent.
"Miss Ming's bias was blatant. Who could express such excessive ardour of anyone, let alone Miss Ming?" My Lady Charlotina wiped the white juice of the turnip from her chin.
"Jherek — he pursues his Amelia with much the same enthusiasm."
"Amelia is an Ideal — she is slender, beautiful, unattainable — everything an Ideal should be. There is nothing unseemly in Jherek's passion for such a woman." My Lady Charlotina was unaware of anything contradictory in her remarks. After her brief experience in the Dawn Age she had developed a taste for propriety which had not yet altogether vanished.
"In certain guises," timidly offered O'Kala, "I have lusted for Miss Ming myself, so…"
"That is quite different. But this Mr Bloom is a man."
"Abu Thaleb's tale was not dissimilar to Doctor Volospion's."
"Abu Thaleb is impressionable. On elephants he is unequalled, but he is no expert on prophets."
"Is anyone?"
"Lord Jagged. That is why Doctor Volospion apes him. You know of the great rivalry Volospion feels for Lord Jagged, surely? For some reason, he identifies with Jagged. Once he used to emulate him in everything, or sought to. Jagged showed no interest. Gave no praise. Since then — oh, so long ago my memory barely grants me the bones of it — Doctor Volospion has set himself up as a sort of contra-Jagged. There are rumours — no more than that, for you know how secretive Jagged can be — rumours of a sexual desire which flourished between them for a while, until Jagged tired of it. Now that Lord Jagged has disappeared, I suspect that Doctor Volospion would take his place in our society, for Jagged has the knack of making us all curious about his activities. You have my opinion in a nutshell — Volospion makes much of this Bloom in an effort to pique our interest, to gossip about him in lieu of Jagged."