“Well, it’s a macabre solution to the problem, but I suppose it does settle the question of having two Sardas around,” June said.
“By his own rules he shouldn’t have been there,” Kieran reminded her. He swilled his own drink and conceded that it was a rather macabre subject to dwell on. “We agreed before. The whole technology is too problematical to let loose on the public for a long time yet. Look what happened through one controlled experiment. Leo and Elaine are far gone, and with luck things will stay that way until you and I are past caring about it.”
“You think they’ll be okay?” June said. “After the effort the syndicate put into trying to find you, it won’t all catch up with Leo and Elaine eventually?”
“I don’t think it can,” Kieran replied. “The only people who had any leads on Kennilworth Troon and his dog have all just been buried again after being dug out of a pile of rocks and rubble at Tharsis. The book’s closed. The syndicate is just going to have to write it off in the uncollectible debts column.”
He eased back in the recliner and contemplated the mural panel, which was showing a window view looking out over Ecuadorian jungle.
“You know, maybe I should go into the mystic business seriously,” he said after a silence. “I thought that line I put together for Marissa sounded pretty good. She certainly did. Hamilton wants to commission a book on it, if he can only track down the Khal again. Maybe I should go back to being the Khal permanently. How about a retainer as Zorken Consolidated’s official mystic, guru, and caller-down of Higher Powers? What do you think it might pay?” June was giving him a curious look. Kieran took it that she was turning the proposition over. “Millions?” he prompted. Then he realized that she was allowing him time, as if waiting for him to say something. For once, he had no idea what. “What?” he invited.
“You mean this story you concocted about the ancient builders being able to manipulate physical probabilities in ways that favored desirable outcomes?” she said.
“Yes. I thought the idea of tying it in with quantum reality was pretty neat too. Maybe I should write a book . . .” Kieran saw that the enigmatic look, as if inviting him to think some more about what he was saying, hadn’t left June’s face. “What?” he asked again.
“You told Marissa that to anyone who didn’t know what was going on, it would look like chains of improbabilities and strange coincidences,” June said. “Inexplicable accidents . . .” She waited again. Kieran’s jaw dropped as the message finally percolated through. June concluded anyway, “But, Kieran, think about all the things that did happen!”
He stared at her. “Oh, my God,” was all he could manage.
“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” June said.
They stared at each other in silence for a long time. Guinness sensed the raptness between them and signaled his participation by thumping his tail against the floor. There wasn’t a lot that either of them could add. The speculation was valid. No amount of debating would resolve it. One day, maybe, they might learn more that would enable them to say more about it.
But for now, there was nothing to be done. Kieran straightened up and finished his drink. “In the meantime life must go on, and people must eat,” he declared. “After all I’ve seen of deserts in the past weeks, tonight we hit the town. Anything you care to name, with a couple of bottles of the best wine in the place. Pick a spot.”
“I’d better make it an exclusive one,” June said. “It isn’t every night that a lady gets a chance to dine with the Khal of Tadzhikstan. Should we make it Native or Terran?”
Kieran raised a hand to his face. He’d forgotten about that. The dye that he’d used was the wrong kind and would take several more days to get off.
“I think not,” he said. “The syndicate mightn’t have anybody left in Lowell looking for him, but there’s still a chance that Hamilton’s scouts might be out and about. Maybe we ought to go Arabian. Somebody should be able to fix me up with a robe and a burnouse. How would you like dinner with an oil sheik tonight?”