Wizard

41 Entry of the Gladiators

The dancing man met them again as they stepped from the elevator. He was just as elegant and just as enigmatic as he had been the last time, his face in shadow, a dazzling shine on his shoes, with white leather spats, cane, top hat and tails. Robin stood silently with Chris and watched, not daring to interrupt. The dancing man executed a series of pullbacks with easy aplomb, went into a twirling motion whereby his head seemed locked in place until a flicker of motion brought it completely around.

"Well, I don't understand the cathedrals either," Chris sighed when he was gone.

Robin said nothing. She recalled from her last visit the kind of song and dance Gaea would do as she manipulated people for her amusement. Everything would have significance, and she did not expect to understand it all. The dance had left her cold; she was going now to listen to the song.

"I keep having this dream," she said. "We sit down with Gaea, and the first thing she says is, 'Now for the second part of your test.'"

He looked askance at her. "At least you've kept your sense of humor. Did you bring your novelty palm buzzer?"

"Already packed in my luggage."

"Too bad. How are the feet? You need any help?"

"I can manage, thanks." She had already noted that she did not need the crutches here in the hub. Her feet were still bandaged, but walking on them in the low gravity caused no pain. She and Chris made their way through the jumble of stone buildings, this time without a guide.

Heaven was just as she remembered it. There was the same monstrous rug, the scattering of couches and elephantine pillows, and low tables heaped with food. There was the same air of gaiety rubbing elbows with blank despair. Gaea sat in the middle of it, holding perpetual court for her retinue of idiopathic angels.

"So the soldiers return from the wars," she said by way of greeting. "A bit subdued, a little the worse for wear, but, by and large, intact."

"Not quite," Chris said. "Robin is missing some toes."

"Ah, yes. Well, she will find that has been taken care of if she wishes to remove her bandages."

Robin had been getting strange feelings from her feet all during the walk but had thought it was the phantom awareness she already knew well. Now she lifted her feet and felt through the bandages. They were back, all ten of them.

"No, no, don't thank me. I can hardly expect your thanks when you would never have lost them without my interference in your life. I took the liberty of correcting what I took to be a slip of the tattooist's needle when restoring the bit of snake that formerly adorned one missing digit. I hope you don't mind."

Robin minded a hell of a lot, but she said nothing. She would find the change, she swore, and have it lasered out and put back the way it had been. Gaea was right to say she was subdued-during her first visit she would have shot Gaea for such a suggestion-but she still had enough pride to resent tampering.

"Have seats," Gaea suggested. "Help yourselves to food and drink. Sit down, and tell me all about it."

"We prefer to stand," Chris said.

"We were hoping this would not take long," Robin added.

Gaea looked from one to the other and made a sour face. She lifted a drink from the table beside her and tossed it down. A sycophant hurried up and put a new one in the wet ring left by the first.

"So it's like that. I should expect it by now, but I'm always a little surprised. I'm not denying you took risks you would rather not have taken. I suppose I can to some degree understand your resentment for having to prove yourselves before receiving my gifts. But consider my position. If I gave the things I have the power to give for free, I would soon be swamped with every mendicant, solicitator, fakir, conjuror, sponger, and just plain bum from Mercury to Pluto."

"I don't see the problem," Robin could not resist saying. "There are plenty of chairs, and you've made a good start already. You could form a choir."

"So you still have a sharp tongue. Ah, would that I were human so its delicious lash would sting properly. Alas, I am indifferent to your contempt, so why waste it? Save it for those who are weak, who desert their comrades in time of need, who weep and soil themselves in the depths of their fear. In short, for those who have not proved themselves as you have done."

Robin felt the blood drain from her face.

"Did anyone ever tell you," Chris put in quickly, "that you talk just like the villain in a cheap murder mystery?"

"If you are telling me so now, you are the twelfth this year." She shrugged. "So I like old movies. But I tire of this. The second feature of the night begins in a few minutes, so-"

"What was the dancer about?" Robin blurted. She was surprised as soon as she asked it, but for some reason she felt it was important.

Gaea sighed.

"Do you people cherish no mystery? Must everything be made plain? What's wrong with a few minor enigmas to invest your lives with a little spice?"

"I hate mysteries," Chris said.

"Very well. The dancer is a cross between Fred Astaire and Isadora Duncan, with a few pinches of Nijinsky, Baryshnikov, Drummond, and Gray. Not the actual people, mind you-though I'd love to rob a few graves and sift bones for genes suitable for cloning-but homologues made from the records they left in life, written up in nucleic acids by yours truly, and given the breath of life. The dancing man is a very adept tool of my mind, as this meat is also a tool," Gaea paused to thump her chest-"but he is a tool nonetheless. In a sense, both he and this speaker dance in my brain; this one for talking to ephemeral creatures, he for a purpose I will get to in a moment. But first, I would expect that despite your distaste, you are curious to know the answer to a certain question, namely: did you or did you not grab the golden ring? Will I send you home as you are or cured?" She lifted an eyebrow and looked at each of them in turn.

Robin, though it pained her to admit it, was all ears. Part of her said that it was all right, that she had not set out to play Gaea's game, and if she had done something along the way to earn the prize, it would be monumental stupidity to refuse it. But something deeper whispered treason. You did not fight very hard when invited on this geste, it said. You always wanted the prize. But she would not let Gaea see her eagerness.

"I always like to get your own opinions first before announcing my decisions," Gaea said. She leaned back in her chair and laced her stubby fingers together over her belly. "Robin, you go first."

"No opinion," Robin said promptly. "I don't know how much you know of the things I did or failed to do. I might as well assume you know it all, down to the blackest secrets of my heart. This is an interesting reversal, I guess. Before, it was me who scorned your rules and Chris who was fascinated by them-or at least I thought he was. Now I don't know. I've thought a lot about the things that happened. I'm ashamed of many of them, including my inability when I got here to admit any human weaknesses. Whatever you do or don't do to me, I've gained something. I wish I knew exactly what it was, and I wish it didn't hurt so much to have it, but I wouldn't go back to what I was."

"You sound a little wistful about that."

"I am."

"Things are usually easier when you don't have to look at yourself. But that attitude would not have worn well."

"I suppose not."

"There will be greater satisfactions ahead."

"I wouldn't know about that."

Gaea shrugged. "I could well be wrong. I never assume the cloak of infallibility when predicting the behavior of creatures with free will. I do have considerable experience, however, and I feel that as you said, win or lose, you are stronger for what you have gone through."

"Perhaps."

"My decision, then, is that you have earned a cure."

Robin looked up. She would not say thank you, and it saddened her a little to see that Gaea did not expect her to.

"In fact, you have already been cured and are free to go any time you choose. I'll wish you good luck, though I wonder-"

"Just a minute. How could I already be cured?"

"While you watched the dancing man. When you and Chris entered the elevator down at the rim, I quickly put you to sleep, just as I did the first time. Then it was necessary to determine the nature of your affliction and the means to cure it, if indeed it could be cured. Some things elude even me. Without that examination I could not have offered the pact I did. This time was more to my advantage than yours. I needed to know what you had done since I last saw you. I examined your experiences, tasted them thoroughly, and made my decision. You were aware of no transition. You didn't notice waking up because I fabricated your ride in the elevator and eased you back into consciousness, blending the man who dances in my mind with the real fellow who wears real spats. You probably noticed a sense of unease, but I am quite adept at this by now, and while I can't explain my methods, I can assure you they are sound and scientific. If you object, you should-"

"Just a minute," Chris said. "If you-"

"Don't interrupt me," Gaea said, wagging a finger. "Your turn will come ... you should, as I was saying, bear in mind the old warning about accepting rides from strangers. Especially in here."

"I remember a very long ride," Robin said, suddenly angry. "It was a long way down. Now I find the ride back up was a trick, too."

"I don't apologize for it. I don't need to, and I don't want to. Everyone takes that long ride down. It usually impresses them with their own mortality; Chris, I believe you are the only person so far who has not remembered that Big Drop to his dying day."

"I want to say something that-"

"Not yet. Robin, you were about to speak."

She looked hard at Gaea.

"All right. How do I know I'm cured? You can't expect me to trust you after what you did the last time I was here."

Gaea laughed. "No, I suppose not. There is no consumer protection in here. And I admit a fondness for tricks. But my reputation in this is flawless. I swear to you now that-barring future injuries to your head, which has been known to prompt epileptic seizures-you have thrown your last fit. Chris, it is now your turn. What do you think of-"

"I want to say something. I don't know if you've cured me or not, but if you did, you shouldn't have. You had no right."

This time both of Gaea's eyebrows lifted.

"You don't say. I was just going to ask if you thought you deserved a cure, but you've grown so cocky that the answer must surely be yes."

"My answer is no answer. But I do have an opinion. You sent me out to be a hero, and I returned alive. That alone should count for something. But I don't believe in heroes anymore. I just believe in people coping with their lives as best they can. You do what you have to do, and in some ways you have no more choice about it than a rock has about falling from a high place. I spent the first part of my trip examining everything I did, from shooting the rapids to brushing my teeth, wondering if it was a heroic thing to do. Then I did a few things I was pretty sure passed the test, and I realized the test was a fake. You take your standards from comic books and then watch people dance. I despise you."

"Do you? You presume too much. Since you won't answer my question, I will tell you that you, too, are cured. Now, how do you know if I based my decision on your exploit in saving Gaby's life in Phoebe or your decision to endure boredom to stay at Valiha's side?"

"You-" Robin could see the anger boiling in Chris and see it contained. She was sure he had checked himself because of the same realization that had suddenly frightened her at the mention of Gaby's name: how much did Gaea know?

"I don't want to be cured," Chris was saying. "I'm not going back to Earth, and my problems don't matter so much here. And I don't want to accept a cure from you."

"Because you despise me," Gaea said, looking away with a bored expression. "You said that. Granted, you can't hurt the Titanides, but what about the humans who live here? Who will look out for them?"

"I'm not going to be around them. Besides, I've improved on my own. Since I got back to Titantown, my episodes have been more uniform and not nearly so violent. Listen, I ... I'll admit it. I'm not too proud to accept something from you. I shouldn't have said I was. I had it in my mind that if you did offer to cure me, I would propose that you do something else instead. I mean, you said I had earned the cure, whether I think I did or not. I thought you might consider the idea that you owed me something."

Gaea was smiling now, and Robin's face burned with sympathy for what she knew must be humiliating for Chris.

"We had a verbal contract," Gaea said. "Quite specific. I admit I had all the better of it, I dictated all the terms, and they were non-negotiable, but I do run this place, don't forget. But I'm dying to hear what you thought I might agree to." She adopted an exaggerated listening posture and blinked several times at him.

"You did it for Cirocco and for Gaby," he said quietly, not looking at her. "If you're waiting for me to beg, I'm not going to."

"Not at all," Gaea said. "I knew you wouldn't-I have some idea what this is costing you after all the high-flown prose-and I'd have been appalled if you did. I've never been that far wrong about even a human. I'm merely waiting for you to spell it out. Be specific. What do you want?"

"The ability to sing."

Gaea's laugh rang in the empty darkness of the hub. It went on and on. Soon all the regulars at her heavenly film festival were laughing, too, on the well-known principle that what's funny to the boss is funny. Robin watched Chris, thinking he would surely attack the obscene little potato-faced pustule, but he somehow managed to hold it in. Gradually the laughter died away, Gaea's first, then everyone else's.

She cocked her head and appeared to be thinking about it.

"No. No to both requests. I will not uncure you, and I will not teach you to sing. You should have read the fine print and known your own desires before you came here. I am enforcing the letter of the contract. This may seem harsh, but you will find that things are not so bad as you think. When I cured you, there was some blending of your various personalities. You'll find yourself a little more in touch with the violent tendencies that so turned on your Titanide bitch. That, combined with a little more skilled use of your penis, ought to keep the animal quite tame and loyal for at least-"

Chris was on her by then. Robin moved in to help but had to deal with the swarms of Gaea's guests, who-while not the strongest collection of backbones Robin had ever seen-were unanimously eager to shine in Gaea's eyes if all it cost them was a broken nose. Robin handed out several. Not many of them would be getting up soon, but before long they overwhelmed her and pinned her to the ground. She saw that Chris was down, too, and Gaea was being shown back to her chair.

"Let them up," she said, sitting. There was blood dripping from her mouth, and she grinned in spite of it. Perhaps because of it; Robin could not know. Robin got up and stood beside Chris. She had cut her hand and raised it to her mouth to suck on it.

"See what I mean?" Gaea said, as if nothing had happened. "The man who came here so long ago would not have done that. And I like it, though you really went too far, you know. But I will make a deal with you. I don't think you will stay with me very long. I know more of these matters than you do, I know something of Titanide love and how it differs from the human variety. Your friend will soon begin to open her fine legs for others-please, there's no need to go through that again." She waited until he seemed calmer. "Your reaction tends to prove my point. I won't deny she loves you, but she will love others. You will not handle it well. You will leave in great bitterness."

"Will you bet on that?"

"That's the deal. Come back in ... oh, say, five myriarevs. No, I'll be generous. Make it four. That's about four and a half years. If you still want to be uncured and if you still want to sing, I'll do both things for you. Do we have a deal?"

"We do. I'll be back."

Robin was never sure if he said more. It had finally penetrated to her conscious mind what part of her hand she was sucking on. She looked at it, stared in growing horror, screamed, and leaped. Once again Gaea went tumbling from her chair, and Robin's memory of what happened next blurred until she found herself sitting on the floor with pain in her little finger, the one that should not have been there. She was biting it, and Chris was trying to pull it from her mouth. He needn't have bothered. She released it and looked dumbly at the toothmarks.

"I can't do it," she said.

"You never could," Gaea reminded her. "You cut it off with a knife, remember? The story about biting was public relations. You were good at that back then; to enhance your image, you could have disemboweled yourself. I'm afraid you were a pain in the ass that only a mother could love." She was wheezing slightly. "As you are now. Really, children, this must stop. Twice in one day? Must I endure assault and battery? What God would put up with it, I ask you?"

Robin no longer cared what Gaea said. The sad fact, the one she must now face as she had faced so many others, was that Gaea was at least partly right. She was no longer Robin the Nine-fingered.

"Don't bother to say good-bye. Just leave," Gaea said.

Chris helped Robin up, and all the way back to the elevator which she knew might drop her through the Rhea Spoke Robin wondered if the tattoo on her belly was intact, and knew she would not look for as long as possible.