Free Gods of Riverworld by Philip José Farmer Page A

in a subtle manner that you are celebrating that occasion?”
    “If I am, I am doing so unconsciously,” she said. “Let’s not have any wisecracks, right?”
    “Wisecrack. Nineteen thirty-four word,” Frigate said to Alice. “The year of your first death.”
    “The only one, thank God,” she said. “Must we speak of the Grim Reaper?”
    Frigate bowed and kissed her extended hand.
    “You are absolutely devastating. Say the word, and I’m all yours. No, you don’t have to say it. I’m yours anyway.”
    “You’re very gallant,” she said. “Also, very pushy.”
    Burton snorted and said, “That’s one thing he’s not. Except when he’s been drinking. Dutch courage.”
    “ In bourbono veritas, ” the American said. “But you’re wrong. Not even then. Am I, Alice?”
    “Alice is a well-garrisoned castle on a steep hill surrounded by a wide moat,” Burton said. “Don’t try to mine her. Take her by storm.”
    The American flushed. Alice did not lose her smile, but she said, “Please, Dick. Let’s not be unpleasant.”
    “I promise,” Burton said. He turned, and started. “My God! Who’re…?”
    Two men in servant’s livery were standing near the dinner table. Not men. They were androids. One had the face of Gladstone; the other, of Disraeli.
    “No one else has ever had two prime ministers of Great Britain wait on them,” Alice said.
    Burton spun toward her, his face red and scowling.
    “Alice! We talked about the danger! The Snark could program them to attack us!”
    She met his fury calmly.
    “Yes, we did. But you, or somebody, also said that the Snark has a thousand ways of getting at us. He hasn’t done anything yet, and if he were going to, he’d have done it. Two androids, a thousand, won’t make any difference.”
    “Agreed!” Li Po said in his loud shrill voice. “Bravo, Alice, for taking the first step! I myself have some plans for androids! I may put them into effect tonight! Ah, tonight! You will suffer no more, Li Po!”
    Burton had to admit, to himself, anyway, that she was right. She should not, however, have done this without getting the consent of the others. At the very least, she should have consulted him about it.
    Perhaps, if the leader of this group had been someone other than him, she would have. It seemed to him that she took every opportunity to defy him now. Under that quiet soft demeanor, behind those large soft dark eyes, was a stubborn woman.
    De Marbot and Behn arrived somewhat flushed and perspiring, as if they had just gotten out of bed or were in the midst of a quarrel. If the latter was the case, they were covering it up well. They smiled and joked and seemed perfectly at ease.
    Burton greeted them and strode to a side table loaded with bottles and goblets and a huge bucket of ice. He waved away the android with Gladstone’s face, which had approached him and asked if he could pour him a drink. Alice had done a very good job if she had reconstructed the prime minister’s features from memory. She could have done so, since the man had dined a number of times at her house when her parents had been alive. More probably, though, she had asked the Computer to locate Gladstone’s photograph in the files and it had done so. Then she had given the Computer her specifications, and it had reproduced this living but mindless being.
    “By the Lord,” he murmured, “it even has his voice!”
    He sipped on the rye whiskey, smoother than any he had tasted on Earth, though it must be reproduced from some Terrestrial brand, and he went to talk with Nur. The little Iberian Moor was holding a glass of some pale yellow wine, which would last him for the evening.
    “The Prophet did not forbid any alcoholic beverage except wine made from dates,” he had once told Burton, who already knew it. “His excessively zealous disciples later extended the ban to all liquor. Though I felt that I did not have to obey the dictates of those ignoramus fundamentalists, I just did