The CONJURER of VENUS By CONAN T. TROY _A world-famed Earth scientist had disappeared on Venus. When Johnson found him, he found too the secret to that globe-shaking mystery--the fabulous Room of The Dreaming._ [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The city dripped with rain. Crossing the street toward the dive, Johnson got rain in his eyes, his nose, and his ears. That was the way with the rain here. It came at you from all directions. There had been occasions when Johnson had thought the rain was falling straight up. Otherwise, how had the insides of his pants gotten wet? On Venus, everything came at you from all directions, it seemed to Johnson. Opening the door of the joint, it was noise instead of rain that came at him, the wild frantic beat of a Venusian rhumba, the notes pounding and jumping through the smoke and perfume clouded room. Feeling states came at him, intangible, but to his trained senses, perceptible emotional nuances of hate, love, fear, and rage. But mostly love. Since this place had been designed to excite the senses of both humans and Venusians, the love feelings were heavily tinged with straight sex. He sniffed at them, feeling them somewhere inside of him, aware of them but aware also that here was apprehension, and plain fear. Caldwell, sitting in a booth next to the door, glanced up as Johnson entered but neither Caldwell's facial expression or his eyes revealed that he had ever seen this human before. Nor did Johnson seem to recognize Caldwell. "Is the mighty human wanting liquor, a woman or dreams?" His voice was all soft syllables of liquid sound. The Venusian equivalent of a headwaiter was bowing to him. "I'll have a tarmur to start," Johnson said. "How are the dreams tonight?" "Ze vill be the most wonserful of all sonight. The great Unger hisself will be here to do ze dreaming. There is no ozzer one who has quite his touch at dreaming, mighty one." The headwaiter spread his hands in a gesture indicating ecstasy. "It is my great regret that I must do ze work tonight instead of being wiz ze dreamers. Ah, ze great Unger hisself!" The headwaiter kissed the tips of his fingers. "Um," Johnson said. "The great Unger!" His voice expressed surprise, just the right amount of it. "I'll have a tarmur to start but when does the dreaming commence?" "In one zonar or maybe less. Shall I make ze reservations for ze mighty one?" As he was speaking, the headwaiter was deftly conducting Johnson to the bar. "Not just yet," Johnson said. "See me a little later."