“Then the pleasures you offer are not only of the … how would you say it?”
“Bedsports, Ma’am. No. Not only those.”
She smiled ironically. “A pity to waste one so highly trained on so uncertain a mission. We are going underground, and we may run some risk. I have heard there are oceans under this planet, oceans sailed by strange and marvelous creatures.”
Mouche’s eyes lit up. “I don’t know where your mission will take you, Ma’am, but I will not be a supernume if you are going by sea. Since a child, I have dreamed of the sea. I have studied it, as well. I will not be a bad companion.”
“And you.” Questioner turned her eyes on Ornery. “What about you?”
“A sailor, Ma’am,” Ornery said. “Only that. Fond of the sea, yes. It’s a good life. Less troublesome than shore, so most of us think.”
“Well. It may be we will find strange seas that warrant a sailor’s efforts, though to begin with you will be mere beasts of burden to carry the supplies my aides were not given time to take with them. You may leave those veils and outer garments here. The packs I have made up are in the next room.”
When Mouche dropped his veil, she took his face in her hands and turned it to catch the light. “Ah,” she said. “This needs attention, boy.”
“We have had no opportunity, Ma’am,” he said.
“Well, it won’t get any worse in the near future. Perhaps I can do something about it when we’ve finished. If we finish.”
Ornery and Mouche eagerly took off the shapeless gardener’s robes and loaded themselves with Questioner’s gear, being not overburdened with the double load, since their own supplies were scanty.
“Is that all you brought?” Questioner asked.
“It is all we have, Ma’am,” Mouche replied. “We were pressed into service with only the clothes on our backs and our small packs. May we assist you with your own burden?”
“I need none. Everything I need is provided for in what I am. I have many tools and gizmos built in, and maintenance is just over. I should be highly efficient for many days. You may follow me.”
They did so, going silently out through the wide hallways toward the room where Questioner had found the sneakways in the walls.
42—Marool Worships Morrigan
While with the Wasters, Marool’s worship of Morrigan had been a daily event, shared with some, hidden from none. During her self-imposed banishment, however, self-interest had dictated that she either give up Morrigan entirely or adopt a more covert style of adoration. During her so-called pilgrimage to Nehbe, Marool had seen the work of a local though reclusive artist. He was called the Machinist, an eremetic genius living in the hills near the town and earning a livelihood by making ornamental devices as well as prototype machines for practical use. He was not a Family Man. He had no g’ to his name. He gave the impression of living in a separate world, but was nonetheless sufficiently connected to the real one to be available to Men of Business needing improved designs of rug looms or grain threshers or goods wagons or anything else they could conceive of.
He could build virtually anything.
“Anything?” asked Marool.
“Oh, but not f … f … f … for you, Ma’am. He does not work for women.”
Someone had hired the stutterer to introduce Marool to the Machinist’s work. This someone had also suggested that Marool’s personality throve upon contrariness. The idea that someone would not do something she wanted done was guaranteed to pique her interest, and she demanded to meet the Machinist.
No, no, said her informant. The Machinist was very secretive, demanding that all his business be done by written orders left in his post box a mile or so from his lair. He saw no one, and no one saw him.
Marool asked why.
Her informant’s reply was quite spontaneous. “Well … Ma’am, b … b … because he smells. You try to talk to him, you can’t b … b … breathe!”
Smells didn’t bother Marool. Before returning to Mantelby Mansion, Marool met with the Machinist. She did so secretly, taking no escort except two Hagger bodyguards who stayed at the post box while she went on to the house. On her first visit she explained her desires to the stringy, dirty-fingered, hot-eyed man, while he scribbled notes, asked few questions, and licked his lips while he suggested one or two refinements. On her second visit, she inspected the work so far completed and found it to her taste.