"Oh, there might be one or two matters undecided somewhere, say out on
the periphery of the galaxy. But we will solve them when we get to
them." He waved vaguely toward the roof and the sky of space hidden
behind the clouds that lay over the roof, glanced around as a man eased
himself into an empty stool on his left. The man was Caldwell.
"Zlock!" Caldwell said, to the bartender. "Make it snappy. Gotta have
zlock. Finest damn drink in the solar system." Caldwell's voice was
thick, his tongue heavy. Johnson's eyes went back to the girl but out
of the corner of them he watched Caldwell's hand lying on the bar. The
fingers were beating a quick nervous tattoo on the yellow wood.
"I haven't seen him," Caldwell's fingers beat out their tattoo. "But I
think he is, or was, here."
"Um," Johnson said, his eyes on Vee Vee. "How--"
"Because that girl was asking for him," Caldwell's fingers answered.
"Watch that girl!" Picking up the zlock, he lurched away from the bar.
"Your friend is not as drunk as he seems," Vee Vee said, watching
Caldwell.
"My friend? Do you mean that drunk? I never saw him--"
"Lying is one of the deadly sins." Her eyes twinkled at him. Under the
merriment that danced in them there was ice. Johnson felt cold.
"The reservations for ze dreaming, great one?" The headwaiter was
bowing and scraping in front of him. "The great one has decided, yes?"
"The dreaming!" Vee Vee looked suddenly alert. "Of course. We must see
the dreaming. Everyone wants to see the dreaming. We will go, won't we
darling?" She hooked her hand into Johnson's elbow.
"Certainly," Johnson said. The decision was made on the spur of the
moment. That there was danger in it, he did not doubt. But there might
be something else. And _he_ might be there.
"Oh. But very good. Ze great Unger, you will love him!" The headwaiter
clutched the gold coins that Johnson extended, bowed himself out of
sight.
"Say, I want to know more--" Johnson began. His words were drowned in
a blast of trumpets. The band that had been playing went into sudden
silence. Waves of perfume began to flow into the place. The perfumes
were blended, but one aroma was prominent among them, the sweet,
cloying, soul-stirring perfume of the Dreamer.
In the suddenly hushed place little sounds began to appear as Venusians
and humans began to shift their feet and their bodies in anticipation
of what was to happen.
The trumpets flared again.
On one side of the place, a big door began to swing slowly open. From
beyond that slowly opening door came music, soft, muted strains that
sounded like lutes from heaven.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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