Free Rise of the Death Dealer by James Silke, Frank Frazetta Page B

cross-legged on the rock facing him, and buckled it on. “But you remember me? You know my name?”
    Brown John studied her smile as it performed about her face, as varied as the song of the robin after which she was named. He said quietly, “Indeed I do.”
    She stiffened slightly, and suspicion returned to her eyes.
    “You… you came here to find me… didn’t you?”
    “Yes. And you are right to be angry with me. When confronted by a scene more dazzling than any that could be created on a stage, the manners of performers are inevitably rude and inadequate.”
    “Oh.”
    “Nevertheless,” he continued, “my spying on you was not intentional. The fact that you selected this extraordinarily beautiful pond, and were bathing in a wardrobe made of sunshine and bubbles, was all quite by chance. But to look away would have denied my nature, and I would be lying if I said I regretted it.”
    She blushed, and shook her hair vigorously to hide it. Beads of water flew about sparkling. She eyed him warily. “You’re too clever. You make me forget what I’m saying.” She hesitated, collecting her thoughts. “Why did you come to see me?”
    He considered her thoughtfully. “Because your virtues are well-known, and because I have seen in you a brave heart. And an appetite for chance, adventure.”
    Her big feathery eyes scolded him more gently now. “You’re trying to confuse me again… not really answering my question.”
    He chuckled. “You are right, Robin Lakehair. Let me put it this way. I have a role which I believe you, and only you, can play.”
    “Me?”
    “You.”
    “But I… I’m not an actress.”
    “Indeed not. In fact it is well known that you are incapable of anything false or artificial… and can hear all that is false in others.”
    “But then why…”
    “Because the role is real,” Brown John said interrupting her.
    She cocked her head boyishly, her eyes glistening with sudden curiosity.
    “If I am right, the spirit of the open road already makes your feet itch.” He leaned forward, lifted her chin slightly with a finger. “In fact you remind me of a former traveling companion, a girl who joined us when she was just about your age. I can’t recall her real name. We called her Ansaria, after the wild root which enchants children. She was the embodiment of beauty and adventure. They loved her everywhere we went. Even named their children after her.” He sighed nostalgically. “Oh, we were respected then. Invited to carnivals and castles to perform for kings and queens.”
    She looked at him from under her straight brows. “You’re playing with me.”
    He shook his head. “I do not play, it only sounds that way because you are not accustomed to hearing someone speak seriously of dancing girls. And because the nature of your, and Ansaria’s, attraction is difficult to explain. Elusive. Like trying to cage a shooting star. But then, it is not required that you understand.” He looked directly into her eyes intently. “Tell me, which of our acts do you like the best?”-“Oh, I loved them all,” she said enthusiastically.
    “Of course.” His eyes twinkled. “But think now. I am certain you have a favorite!”
    “Well, last summer, there was a dancing bear and a clown… and a beautiful dancing girl. She was small and dark, and wore red scarves and all kinds of baubles and beads. They were wonderful.”
    “Ahhh,” murmured Brown John. “Nose, the rubber man, and Lale.”
    “That’s it! But what was the bear’s name?”
    “They called him Sir William.”
    Robin chuckled, “Sir William. How wonderful.” She became dreamy. “The girl was so beautiful.”
    “Yes… she was,” he said with a touch of nostalgia. “In a way she was also like yourself. She could not hide. There was no distance between her and her audience. No matter how she cluttered herself with jewels and gaudy cloth, her deepest feelings were always on display. One night she would be so brazen and frenzied