"From what I gather," said Nash, "there really aren't any masses in this world: just a minority of soulless ones and a majority of rampant individualists."
"I know," said Brother Benedict."But try to tell that to a Lenin! I've argued with them. For my part, I hold that a villain is no less a villain because he can excuse his crimes by fine words about Class Loyalty, Bourgeois Morality, and Dialectical Materialism."
"What happened to the loyal part of the army?" asked Nash.
"Many of them escaped to Brooklyn, where they are reorganizing to carry on the fight. Every boat in lower Manhattan was seized that afternoon by fleeing soldiers and civilians."
"They sent a mess—" Nash broke off as the horrible suspicion that his conscious mind had been trying to suppress at last broke through. He remembered the soldier who had burst in on the Private while Nash was speaking with him; this man had said something about "Lenins." Arizona Bill Averoff must somehow have failed to deliver the message—
"Keep a stiff upper lip," he thought. If it does turn out that the disaster was your fault, it'll be time enough then to do something dramatic.
"Where did the Aryans come from?" he asked.
"These pagan savages began appearing in Yorkville ten years ago," Benedict told him."The New York City government temporized with them until they were numerous enough to revolt. They somehow got an alliance with the Romans, who up to then had been fairly good citizens most of the time.
"You can neither argue with nor evangelize nor intimidate an Aryan. The only thing that does any permanent good is to kill him, God forgive me. And it strikes me, Chevalier, that you would be better occupied—"
"I know," said Nash."We've got guys like that at home. One of these day% I'll be needed back there."
Merlin Apollonius Stark grinned like a bearded cherub."Good morning, de Nêche; bright and early I see. I've got good news: the watch... say, what's the matter with you? Look like you'd been drug through a knothole."
"Didn't sleep well," growled Nash.
"I guessed that; but there's something else. Come, tell Papa Merlin. You're in love, aren't you?"
"Uh-huh. If you're so smart, maybe you can tell me what to do about it. What would happen if I stayed here?"
Stark shrugged."That's up to Bechard. When a mundane body abandons an astral congener to create another, the first astral body goes on living unchanged until some accident causes its dissolution. But sometimes a mundane body, instead of abandoning its creation outright, will slowly change it. They do pretty horrible things to us sometimes."
"Would Bechard know about that?"
"He would unless he's even dumber than most demons."
"But if I go back with the Shamir, I'll take this body with me, so she'll be left with nothing at all. Could you... uh... exorcise me, so she'd—"
"Altruistic devil, aren't you? They get that way sometimes. Wouldn't do any good; your soul couldn't take the Shamir back by itself, and without it Bechard wouldn't let you back into your own body. So you'd bounce right back up."
Nash twisted his strong fingers together."Could you send her back with me?"
"Sorry, but the Shamir's a one-man vehicle."
"What then? There must be some way out for us."
"You'll get over it."
"But I don't want to—"
"Oh, for Och's sake! I'm a magician, not a lovelorn column editor! I was trying to tell you that your watch will be ready this afternoon. If you can locate your two assistants, you could leave this evening, and raid Tukiphat's Island before dawn. I'd strongly advise it, if possible. Have you got any helpers yet?"
"My girl friend, Alicia Woodson."
"How about the third?"
"Haven't anybody. I don't suppose you'd consider... uh—"
"Good Uriel, no! I wouldn't say 'boo' to Tukiphat, and anyway I have my practice to look after."
"Well, there are one or two pretty good guys I knew in New York, but I don't know where they are."
"Take too long to locate them, by natural means or otherwise," said Stark."I do know a local condottiere—that is, he was a condottiere until Alessandro got the better of all his fellow cutthroats and became a champion of law and order. This man, Muzio Sforza d'Amelio, has done one or two jobs for me, and I haven't had cause for complaint."
"Would you advise me to trust him?" asked Nash worriedly.
"I advise you to trust nobody, but you have to make use of people now and then. As I say, d'Amelio has been honest enough in his dealings with me, and before that he had a fairly good reputation as mercenary soldiers go."
"Well, are you specifically recommending him?"
"No, I'm not. I'm merely calling him to your attention. Another advantage is that he speaks Italian, so he might be able to talk you out of trouble if the Romans or Aryans stopped you."
"If I could interview him first—"
"Can do. Paraldine, take a telepathic message." The wizard and his secretary both shut their eyes and concentrated for some minutes. Then Stark opened his.
"O. K., he'll be in some time this afternoon. Guess we'd better do the same for your Alicia. Paraldine, a copy to the chevalier's friend, Miss Alicia Woodson. And now, my friend, you're going to tell me all about the mundane plane. Oh, before we begin, we might... uh... ahem—"
"Settle the vulgar financial details?" grinned Nash."Here you are."
Stark smiled broadly as he counted the money."Put it in the safe, Paraldine, and get your shorthand pad ready."
All morning Nash talked. He gave an hour to his own humdrum biography, and in response to Stark's questions went off into the science, religion, social customs, and other facets of his civilization.
Paraldine brought a couple of light lunches and put them on the wizard's desk. Nash looked at his and said: "Thanks, but I don't think I could eat any lunch."
Stark shook a commiserating head."Boy, you sure have got a bad case. Try some of this sherry; it's a good antidote for lovesickness."
Nash tried, and eventually was able to choke down his food. The doorbell rang; the sylph went out and returned with a small package which proved to contain the watch from Nathan.
"It'll do," said Stark after a critical examination."Go on with your talk; I want to hear more about that nice kind Inquisition."
By three o'clock Nash's throat was sore. Stark held up a hand."I think that'll do. You've answered all the crucial questions you could. And I see your lady fair approaching."
When Alicia was admitted, she reported to Nash: "The girls are all on their way, and the blankets are all returned, and the slaves are all auctioned off."
"How did they like it?"
"The girls?"
"No, the slaves."
"They were delighted. But I couldn't get rid of the menagerie; nobody would take them even as a gift."
Nash sighed."I can see why. What'll we do with them? Give them to Duke Alessandro?"
"What's this?" Stark broke in. Nash told him about the sultan's ape and saber-tooth.
Alicia added: "We have food enough to keep 'em happy for a couple of days, and I got their formulas and commands from their keepers. You say accumbe when you want them to lie down, and carpe when you want them to tear somebody to pieces. That's about all."
Stark suggested: "Why not take them along with you? They seem to be fairly docile as long as they're fed, and they'd give you prestige with the Aryans. Not many would try to stop you if you were leading those animals on leashes."
"Wouldn't they attract attention?" asked Nash.
"Maybe, but you can expect some attention from the Aryans anyway. The only way to deal with an Aryan is to step on his toes until he apologizes." Stark looked at his own watch, and set the altered stop watch by it."D'Amelio ought to be here. Suppose you people help me enchant the props; save time.