"Himbie!" cried Ethulassia, seizing his arm urgently and drawing him close. "I like the idea!" She and Cravan exchanged a quick glance, and Ethulassia nodded slightly. As she did so—the Dame was no mean magician herself—The Incredible Bosom seemed to expand still further.
"Himbo," Cravan said, his eyes taking on something of an unholy glow. "You know how my one dream has been to take my company and these plays to the central worlds. You know how sure I've been that we could hold our own against any other theatrical company there. This is our chance! This is our chance to prove what we can do, who we are, and at no risk at all to you, financial or otherwise. Please, Himbo! Please! I have never truly begged you for anything before this, but I am begging you now—please let us do this!"
Himbo Petey looked from Ethulassia to Cravan, then to Pausert, then the Sedmons, then back to Cravan. "Well—"
Cravan seized his hand and pumped it. "Thank you, Himbo! Thank you! You are making my dream come true!"
Petey hemmed and hawed a little, looking pleased but embarrassed. "But we don't leave here until we've earned everything there is to earn here," he added hastily. "Damned if I will! Showboat principles are showboat principles."
"We do not disagree," said the right-hand Sedmon earnestly. "It would seem odd if we did. And ah—er—" he coughed. "Our own disguise—perhaps 'bona fides' is a more salubrious term—needs to be established. We think perhaps our ship should be added to the frame, and a job found for us. Temporarily, of course."
"Of course," Himbo agreed. He cocked an eyebrow at Pausert and Hulik. "Suggestions?"
"Mentalist act," said Hulik instantly.
"Cage-sweeper," said Pausert, just as quickly.
The Sedmons gave the captain a look which did not bode well for Pausert's fate and fortune, should he ever find himself back on Uldune again. But he couldn't pass up the opportunity. Once in a lifetime, that was. Besides, he was still a little peeved about the episode on Pidoon.
CHAPTER 23
Of course, the Sedmons were not made into cage-sweepers. They would have been entirely useless at the job, for one thing. They were accustomed to having people following them about, picking up what they absentmindedly dropped, not cleaning up other creatures' messes. Old habits are too hard to break. Much as Pausert would have enjoyed watching the Sedmons try to cope, even he had to admit that.
No, as Hulik had suggested, the Sedmons got a mentalist act; it was easy enough for them to do, and a good talker made up for their inexperience.
They also got a make-work job as Dame Ethulassia's assistants in wardrobe. Not that they were any good at sewing and the like, but they could at least check in the costumes that needed repairs and cleaning, and check out the ones to replace them. "Wardrobe" covered, not only the thespians, but the entire company, so there was enough work to make them look busy, at least.
The Sedmons had agreed initially to the plan not to leave until every last mael had been milked from the miners, simply to resolve the initial situation. But they had always assumed they could, eventually, persuade the Showmaster otherwise.
They were wrong. Absolutely and completely wrong. No argument, no persuasion, not all of the Sedmons' diplomatic experience served. Himbo Petey was not going to budge from this planet as long as there was money to be made there, and no matter what the Sedmons said to him, he was adamant on that score. It seemed—the Sedmons were quite astonished, actually—that the man took his ridiculous "showboat principles" in deadly earnest. It was like dealing with a religious zealot!
The Sedmons were left with the depressing feeling that receipts were never going to drop off, that the Petey B would be here forever. They had to get out of here! Somewhere out there the Nanite plague had started, they were sure of it. Too many things were going wrong out there, and it chafed at the Sedmons that although the other four had the best information services in the galaxy at their disposal, there just was not enough information coming in. Why else would Karres have disappeared again? They had to leave, and yet, it seemed that Himbo Petey's people would never want to.
And, for a while, it looked as if their worst fears might be right. Miners continued to pack the stalls, the Big Top, and the theater, and accolades continued to come in. Hulik was the recipient of quite a few of those, especially when she played Juliet or Helene.
And that was another source of fretting, for the Daal. When that happened, when the gifts and inevitable marriage proposals appeared backstage . . . The emotions stirred up were something the Sedmons were ill equipped to handle.
But Hulik always sent the same answer to the proposals, a politely, even kindly worded refusal, and the Sedmons relaxed. There was time, apparently.
Time, yes—and now time spent in Hulik's company. The experience only confirmed what had sent them across the galaxy in the first place. It hadn't been the danger of the Nanite plague. Not really.
The Sedmons were in love. Hulik do Eldel was, impossibly enough, the most important person in the universe to them, as important as any one of their six selves.
Maybe more.
The only problem was, they hadn't the faintest idea what to do about it.
How could they propose any sort of alliance with a woman, any woman? What sort of woman would consider such a thing? What had always seemed to be their greatest strength, their very nature, now seemed to be the greatest of curses.
Nevertheless, they could not, would not leave. Aside from any other considerations, this mad longing for her kept them at her side.
Surely, with enough time, they would think of something.
Or Hulik would accept one of those proposals.
Or they would fall out of love. Such things could happen . . . however unlikely it seemed.
And it seemed more and more unlikely with every passing day. Before long, the Sedmons were in a perpetual agony of indecision. What to do? What to do?
* * *
After two weeks, however, audiences for the sideshow acts finally began to drop down to more normal levels, and some acts stopped getting any attention at all. The exotic dancers—in fact, any act featuring a pretty female—remained popular, but some of the rest began to cut back or close. It was obvious why it was happening, of course; you could only watch a comedic escapism act so many times before you got tired of it.
But the theater stayed packed, and Cravan made up for the drop-off in attendance at the sideshows by putting all four of the old plays back into production. Those who had closed their sideshow acts quickly found places to fill there. Even the Sedmons were recruited for nonspeaking roles.
Two weeks became four. The Sedmons still had not thought of a way to approach Hulik.
They began to think that they never would. And in all of their lives, they could not remember feeling such despair.
They actually indulged in daydreams, imagining scenarios in which they rescued Hulik and her companions from thugs of varying design. The costumes changed, though the scenes remained pretty much the same. They even dreamed such things at night, and in fact, almost came to long for such a thing to happen. At least it would give an opportunity to speak!
It became worse when new ships arrived, bearing new miners. Would one of them win Hulik's heart? Or had it already been given? Perhaps to one of the thespians?
That last thought was the worst of all.