The visitor lifted a square bottle into the light. He shook it with a look of glee. «Come,» he said, turning toward a booth in the corner, where a window admitted a beam of pale sunlight.
The man’s movements were so certain, so purposeful, that Gavagol was swept along, as if in an eddy of dark water. He settled carefully into the booth, his hand still holding the stunner. The deep-set eyes peered at him, glittering, and Gavagol saw that they were a most unusual magenta.
«You can release the death-grip you have on that weapon,» the visitor said pleasantly, flourishing two smeary tumblers. He splashed them half-full of a cloudy celadon liquor and pushed one toward Gavagol. «First, I have no reason to harm you. Second, I’m Shielded. Your health, Watcher!» He drank with a practiced flourish.
Gavagol drank more cautiously. «I would,» he said, «drink to yours if I knew who you were.»
The ancient slammed his heavy fist to the table, and the bottle jumped. «What?» he roared in that potent voice. «You pretend not to know me? I, the Flesh Tinker, notorious on every pangalac world?»
Gavagol’s mouth dropped open. Did legend sit glaring across the table? He had always dismissed the Flesh Tinker as a traveler’s tale. Well, perhaps a colorful delusion gripped this unusual person.
Gavagol adopted a placatory tone, «Oh, I’ve heard of you, of course, who hasn’t? My name, by the way, is Diam Gavagol. Uh, pardon me, but how shall I address you?»
«„Sir“ will suffice. Or you can call me Tinker. But never call me Flesh!» The Flesh Tinker leaned across the table, breathing powerful fumes. «I am more than that!» He giggled again, a startling sound in such an otherwise impressive being.
«Well. to your good health, sir.»
They drank again. The cloudy liquor was potent, augmented by some swift hallucinogen, and Gavagol felt the world start to skew. The Flesh Tinker’s eyes expanded into huge purple holes in the withered terrain of his face, and Gavagol hastily looked away.
«But,» Gavagol said, «you still haven’t explained why you’re here in City Nereus. The Trustees are somewhat sticky about their rules.»
«To Croakery with the Trustees and their rules! I’m here because this is the way I come. Cholder was always an important stop on my circuit, and I’m not one to abandon a profitable tradition, just because all the customers are gone. Besides, after I’ve spent a day or two roistering in my accustomed haunts, I’ll set out over the Indivisible Ocean and drum up a little trade. Eh?»
«The merfolk employ your services? How do they pay?»
«Pay? They pay in the same coin as all my customers. Amusement!» The Flesh Tinker roared with laughter; he sounded like a triumphant predator. Then he fixed those unsettling eyes on Gavagol. «But you, young man, have you no need for my services? Your eyes, are they not a little close-set? I could spread ’em. Your ears are a bit in need of cropping, not so?»
Gavagol felt uneasy. «Your offer is most kind, but I’m satisfied with my appearance.»
The Flesh Tinker smiled politely. «As you wish. I force my services on no one. Anyway, there’s little enough amusement in nose-bobbing. Though I`m reminded of a time on Pachysand…» But the Flesh Tinker’s voice trailed away, and the old man filled the tumblers again.
Gavagol protested. «Much more, and I'll be under this table.»
The Flesh Tinker’s expression was sly. «Or else you’ll start believing me, eh?»
«Oh, no. I mean, I do believe you.»
«Damn you!» the Flesh Tinker shouted, suddenly wild-eyed. Saliva gleamed at the corners of his mouth. «You think me an ancient dingwilly, rich enough to own a starboat and cunning enough to evade his keepers. Don’t deny it, now, or I shall mute you into a night-conger and root you to the floor of the Indivisible Ocean!»
Gavagol`s knees rattled together under the table. He could think of nothing to say, so he sat silently, stiff with liquor and fear. Now he did believe the old man. He was sitting face to face with a legend.
As quickly as it began, the Flesh Tinker’s fury was over, and he smiled. «Never mind, young man. You’re the only drinking companion to be had in the City. I’ll mind my manners.» The Flesh Tinker lifted his glass companionably.
Gavagol realized suddenly that, for the first time in the years he had been on Cholder, he wasn’t lonely. Frightened, yes, but not lonely.
He drank; he began to talk. The Flesh Tinker listened, nodding, making sounds of interest, pouring when the level of Gavagol’s glass fell too close to the tabletop.
He spoke of his job, at first emphasizing the great responsibility he bore to the City and the Trustees. But as he grew drunker, he veered closer to the truth: that he was a useless, but traditional appendage, and that he spent his time observing the City’s ability to do without him.
The Flesh Tinker murmured sympathy, and poured.
Gavagol drank some more and started to talk about his insomnia. By degrees, he got around to the loneliness.
«There’s no one else here. No one. The City has no self-willed mechаnisms, so I don’t even have a robot to talk with.»
Gavagol wiped a maudlin tear away. «This is silly, but… I tried to have a pet once. All the cleaning mechs look the same here, square slabs of monomol with feet. And how can you make a pet out of something you can’t tell from all the others? A foolish idea, really, but I thought it might help.»
He took another long drink, and his head swam. «I painted its name on its carapace — Ralf I called it. I think it did help; I talked to it and made little messes for it to clean up, and it seemed pleased. Ridiculous, I know.»
«But a couple days later it rotated to another part of the City, or the maintmechs scrubbed the paint off. Anyway, I couldn’t find it.» Another tear rolled slowly down Gavagol’s face.
The Flesh Tinker looked faintly repelled. «A pitiful story, friend Watcher.»
«I envy the merfolk, you know» Gavagol rambled on, oblivious. «Whenever I see them, they’re swimming together, laughing, playing, making love… all together in the sea. A beautiful sight, don’t you agree?» His voice was slurred, and his eyes felt impossibly heavy. «In the sea. Sometimes I’d give anything to join them.» His head tipped forward; he caught himself with a start and looked up at the Flesh Tinker.