«I don’t know,» Berner said, reluctantly. It seemed monstrously unfair. She seemed a kind and guiltless person, undeserving of so ugly a bondage. «Doesn’t it ever get any better?»
«Has Cleet given you his lecture on the cyclic nature of wealth? No? Well, cruelty has its cycles too.» She smiled wearily. «Sometimes he dresses me in jewels and gives me gifts and acts like an adoring husband.»
«That’s better, isn’t it?»
«Not really,» she answered.
As the weeks passed, Cleet became less talkative, seemed to find less entertainment in shocking or terrifying Berner.
He now occasionally missed a night with the woman, and toward the end of this time, went days without taking her to the forepeak. He spent much time on the astrogation deck, apparently occupied with his thoughts.
Cleet no longer locked him in his cabin, apparently assured that Berner was harmless. In any case the stairfield would not permit him access to any secured areas, so that Berner was confined to the cargo deck and the upper deck. He grew restless.
Once Berner visited the woman as she slept her enforced sleep. She seemed irresistably beautiful, lying in her jewel box of a bed. He left before she woke and never again violated her privacy.
He desired the woman; this he was finally able to admit to himself. He pitied her, an emotion that soon outgrew the desire. But finally neither desire nor pity seemed appropriate; she was, like him, just another trapped animal, a toy. For all her beauty, for all her bravery.
He found his only entertainment on the upper deck, browsing in Cleet’s library of souls. Hour after hour he watched the displays, and sometimes it seemed to him that the universe was full of nothing but copulating animals, all frantically eluding death in the only way that lay open to them.
Cleet occasionally allowed him to dine in the starboat’s wardroom, at a long black lacquer table. Berner’s place was near the foot of the table.
Usually Cleet ate in watchful silence, studying Berner with an impersonal intensity. But tonight Cleet was talkative.
«So, hermit, tell me of your creed. The weak invent such religions endlessly, justifying their weakness. But no sex? That seems universally unappealing; how do you attract converts?» Berner looked warily at Cleet. «Wisdom comes unbidden to the chosen.»
«Ah? Then you would say that I am unwise? Or unchosen?» «I wouldn’t presume... said Berner, looking down at his plate. «Quite right! But please, elucidate freely. Perhaps you’ll convert me. Why must we refrain from sex?»
Berner drew an unhappy breath. «I can only quote the Nameless. ‘Consider the amoeba. Does it die? It knows not the ephemeral pleasure of coupling, nor the eternal terror of the grave.»
«No animal fears death.» Cleet said this in an almost gentle voice.
«Perhaps not, until death is upon it. Then...»
«But the Nameless, was he not martyred?»
«Yes, on Aragon, by a mob of angry whores. Our belief does not promise unending life in this body, though dedicants have recorded remarkable spans. Accidents occur, violence endures. It’s the life of the soul we hope to preserve. We’re realists.» Cleet laughed his beautiful unwholesome laugh. «Realists! Tell me, how old are you?»
Berner hunched his shoulders. «One hundred and seven standard years. But I came late to the Mystery.»
Cleet laughed again. «An infant. A grizzled gray infant. You might have lived another hundred years here–if that long. I saw your med-unit; very basic, very basic indeed. I was bom 863 years ago, on Green. And I’ve had ten thousand lovers, at least; I am the more youthful for it. What of your realism, now?»
Berner had no answer.
«I know what you’re thinking,» Cleet said. «You’re thinking, ‘wealth’. And you’re right, of course. The wealthy need never die, so why should we ponder the state of our souls? Have you an answer?»
«No,» Berner muttered.
«No, of course you don’t.» Cleet seemed to turn his thoughts inward, and a stillness spread over his shining mask. «But you’re thinking, ‘if Cleet is so wealthy, what is he doing on this empty world, with a dull religionist for a servant?»’ Cleet’s shoulders twitched, and he blinked his eyes rapidly. «You have no personal understanding of wealth, so I excuse your ignorance. Wealth, you see, is cyclical. The truly wealthy move through these cycles; amassing, then spending. Of what use is wealth, if it cannot buy amusement? And the wealthier one is, the more expensive one’s taste in amusements.»
Berner was terrified by Cleet’s expression, at once despairing and enraged. He stared down at the remnants of his meal and hoped that Cleet would not temper his pain with Berner’s.
But Cleet’s thoughts were elsewhere, occupied with some bitter remembrance. He continued to speak musingly. «So, I find myself at an ebb in the cycle. I own nothing but this wretched boat, a piece of pretty meat, a few games–and you, of course. I would take the boat to Dilvermoon and sell it, if I could, but it’s keyed to my persona and would die without me. Also, jealous enemies dog me, and Dilvermoon is unsafe, just now.
«This is as good a place as any to wait, until I’ve made new plans. Why change aimlessly through the void?» After a while he smiled, as if his memories had taken a more pleasant turn. «My grand- sire gave this boat to me during my Manhood Year, so long ago. So long ago. A month later I poisoned him and took my inheritance. Became a man in truth.»
A silence ensued. After a time, Cleet rose and went up to his private suite.
Berner hid his face in his hands until he stopped shaking.
That evening, Cleet wore the mind of a great snake that dwelled on a world of sand and thorns. He was especially savage with the woman, so that when he was finished, she was bloody.
Berner hid his anger when Cleet called him from the library. «To the med-unit?» he asked.
«Why not,» Cleet said, with an air of boredom, and went away. «I wasn’t always a coward, Candypop,» Berner whispered, while he helped her wash.
She looked up at him, smiling a little. «Why do you call yourself a coward? What could you do against Cleet? He’s not a man anymore, he’s too strong, too quick, too cruel. No unaltered human being could best him.»
When he assisted her to her feet, she sagged against him and he felt the pressure of her breast against his side, To his shame, he felt a twinge of desire.
The med-unit treated her quickly–apparently her wounds were superficial–so Berner was able to walk her to her own cabin a few minutes later.
Cleet came in behind them, moving on noiseless feet, startling Berner.
He looked down at Candypop. «You know, don’t you?» Cleet said, in a soft musing voice.
Berner understood that something important was occurring, some ritual exchange. Some dire message had passed between Cleet and Candypop.
Cleet fixed his stare on Berner. «Things change, hermit. You’ve noticed this, even in your short life. We won’t be here much longer.»
«What do you mean?» Berner could not seem to get his breath.
«I’ve been away from my life for too long. And I’ve tired of my Candypop.» Cleet shook his head, looking oddly diminished. «Old toys,» he said, in a voice so low that Berner barely heard the words.
He went silently away, and Berner picked up her hairbrush with a trembling hand.
Candypop looked up at Berner. Her face seemed astonishingly unafraid. «Pay no attention, Berner. He likes to frighten people; that’s his hobby, you know. Before he leaves, he’ll put you out and let you go back to your old life. Just do nothing to make him angry. Never act contrary to his expectations and you’ll be all right. He’s not a casual murderer. You’ll survive, Brother Berner.»
He wanted to believe her. «He’s threatened to morph me into a woman, if...» His fear shamed him; he was sick with it.