Free Gods of Riverworld by Philip José Farmer Page B

not care for strong waters. However, I have acquired a taste for this Chinese wine. Besides, even if I were a drunkard, what would Allah do to me that I had not done to myself? As for Mahomet, where is he?”
    Burton and Nur talked of Mecca for a while, and then the android who looked like Disraeli announced that dinner was served. Since each guest had told Alice in the morning what he or she would like, the menus were in the Computer’s memory. It took one microsecond for the food to appear inside a giant e-m converter; the servants took longer putting the appetizers on the table. Burton had ordered a salad with devil’s-rain dressing followed by sturgeon fumé a la muscovite and for dessert two tarts with rhubarb filling. The appropriate wine was served with each course.
    Burton, Behn, Frigate, and Li Po had cigars of the finest Cuban tobacco. Nur smoked his after-dinner cigarette, the only nicotine he allowed himself.
    Burton approached the Frenchman, who backed away. “Spare my precious lungs that vile poison!” he cried.
    “A man could die happy breathing this,” Burton said. “However, as you said, non disputandum de gustibus. Did you inform Aphra that she might join us in our next venture if she wished?”
    “That, yes, I did,” de Marbot said. “Unfortunately, I could not tell her just what that venture was.”
    Burton handed him a note. De Marbot read it and looked up. “What…?”
    He came close to the Englishman and stood on his tiptoes to talk into Burton’s ear. Burton still had to lean over.
    “We will, I will, anyway, be ready. But … you can give me no indication, no clue, as to what you have in mind?”
    “It’s best not to.”
    “Ah, how intriguing,” de Marbot said. “May the realization come up to my expectation. Danger, romance, skullduggery, an open charge upon the enemy or a silent stealth, apprehension, uncertainty, a task demanding all of one’s courage and a straining of one’s steel nerves.”
    “All of those,” Burton said. “Perhaps.”

8
    A few minutes after one in the morning, Burton parked his chair outside de Marbot’s and Behn’s apartment. The door, as he had required, was open. He went into the big living room, the shadowless illumination coming on just as he passed through the doorway. He went down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door. Sleepily, de Marbot called, “ Quelle? ”
    “ C’est moi, naturellement ,” Burton said.
    A moment later, the Englishwoman and the Frenchman stumbled through the doorway, rubbing their eyes.
    “You owe me six hours of sleep,” the Frenchman said. “How does one repay such a debt?”
    “With six hours’ loss on my part,” Burton said. “But this is for your benefit, also, so I owe you nothing.”
    De Marbot had put on a towel-kilt, and Aphra was wearing a delicate black lace bra and black panties.
    De Marbot said, “Hey, my cabbage, is that all you care to don?”
    “It’s what I always wear for midnight assignations,” she said.
    De Marbot laughed, hugged her, and kissed her cheek.
    “My wild English rose. Always the unexpected, the delightful.”
    She was, however, deceiving him. She went back into the bedroom and reappeared clad in a thin blouse, a short skirt, and ankle-length boots. By then Burton had ordered three large mugs of Brazilian coffee from the converter. They sipped while he told them that he would explain just what they would do when they got to their destination.
    “Sealed orders,” de Marbot said. “But the enemy, he is watching and listening to us. We are like the cat with a bell around his neck.”
    “By the time we get through, he won’t be able to see or hear us,” Burton said.
    De Marbot’s eyebrows rose, and he smiled.
    “Ah! I anticipate, I quiver, I revolve inside myself with excitement.”
    “There’s a lot of work involved,” Burton said. “You’ll be tired before we’re done.”
    “Not I. I am a man of iron, and Aphra, she is hard as platinum and twice the worth of