Two guards thrust crossed spears in their path at the portal of the Sanctuary. Boone said reprovingly, «Come, come! These pilgrims are the Supreme Bishop's personal guests. Where are their badges?»

Badges were produced and with them door prize numbers. A respectful usher said, «This way, Bishop,» and led them up wide stairs to a center box facing the stage.

Boone stood back. «You first, little lady.» Boone wanted to sit next to Mike: Harshaw won and Mike sat between Jill and Jubal, with Boone on the aisle.

The box was luxurious-self-adjusting seats, ash trays, drop tables for refreshments. They were above the congregation and less than a hundred feet from the altar. In front of it a young priest was warming up the crowd, shuffling to music and shoving heavily muscled arms back and forth, fists clenched. His strong bass voice joined the choir from time to time, then he would lift it in exhortation:

«Up off your behinds! Gonna let the Devil catch you napping?»

A snake dance was weaving down the right aisle, across in front, and back up the center aisle, feet stomping in time with the priest's piston-like jabs and the syncopated chant of the choir. Clump, clump;.moan! … Clump, clump, moan! Jill felt the beat and realized sheepishly that it would be fun to get into that dance — as more and more people were doing under the brawny young priest's taunts.

«That boy's a comer,» Boone said approvingly. «I've team-preached with him and I can testify he turns the crowd over to you sizzlin'. Reverend ”Jug” Jackerman — used to play left tackle for the Rams. You've seen him.»

«I'm afraid not,» Jubal admitted. «I don't follow football.»

«Really? Why, during the season most of the faithful stay after services, eat lunch in their pews, and watch the game. The wall behind the altar slides away and you're looking into the biggest stereo tank ever built. Puts the plays right in your lap. Better reception than you get at home — and it's more thrill with a crowd around you.» He whistled. «Cherub! Over here!»

Their usher hurried over. «Yes, Bishop?»

«Son, you ran away so fast I didn't have time to put in my order.»

«I'm sorry, Bishop.»

«Being sorry won't get you into Heaven. Get happy, son. Get that old spring into your step and stay on your toes. Same thing all around, folks?» He gave the order and added, «Bring me a handful of my cigars — see the chief barkeep.»

«Right away, Bishop.»

«Bless you, son. Hold it — » The snake dance was about to pass under them; Boone leaned over, made a megaphone of hands and cut through the noise. «Dawn! Hey,Dawn!» A woman looked up, he beckoned to her. She smiled. «Add a whiskey sour to that. Fly.»

The woman showed up quickly, as did the drinks. Boone swung a seat out of the back row for her. «Folks, meet Miss Dawn Ardent. M'dear, that's Miss Boardman, the little lady down in the comer — and this is the famous Doctor Jubal Harshaw here by me — »

«Really? Doctor, I think your stories are simply divine!»

«Thank you.»

«Oh, I do! I put one of your tapes on and let it lull me to sleep almost every night.»

«Higher praise a writer cannot expect,» Jubal said with a straight face.

«That's enough, Dawn,» put in Boone. «The young man between them is … Mr. Valentine Smith, the Man from Mars.»

Her eyes got big. «Oh, my goodness!»

Boone roared. «Bless you, child! I really snuck up on you.»

She said, «Are you really the Man from Mars?»

«Yes, Miss Dawn Ardent.»

«Just call me “Dawn”. Oh goodness!»

Boone patted her hand. «Don't you know it's a sin to doubt the word of a Bishop? M'dear, how would you like to help lead the Man from Mars to the light?»

«Oh, I'd love it!»

(You would, you sleek bitch! Jill said to herself.) She had been growing angry ever since Miss Ardent joined them. The woman's dress was long sleeved, high necked, and opaque — and covered nothing. It was a knit fabric the shade of her tanned skin and Jill was certain that skin was all there was under it — other than Miss Ardent, which was plenty. The dress was ostentatiously modest compared with the clothes of most females in the congregation, some of whom seemed about to jounce out.

Jill thought that Miss Ardent looked as if she had just wiggled out of bed and was anxious to crawl back in. With Mike. Quit squirming your carcass at him, you cheap hussy!

Boone said, «I'll speak to the Supreme Bishop, m'dear. Now get back and lead that parade. Jug needs you.»

«Yes, Bishop. Pleased to meet you, Doctor, and Miss Broad. I hope I'll see you again, Mr. Smith. I'll pray for you.» She undulated away.

«A fine girl, that,» Boone said happily. «Ever catch her act, Doc?»

«I think not. What does she do?»

«You don't know?»

«No.»

«Didn't you hear her name? That's Dawn Ardent — she's the highest paid peeler in all Baja California, that's who. Works under an irised spot and by the time she's down to her shoes, the light is just on her face and you really can't see anything else. Very effective. Highly spiritual. Would you believe, looking at that sweet face now, that she used to be a most immoral woman?»

«I can't believe it.»

«Well, she was. Ask her. She'll tell you. Better yet, come to a cleansing for seekers — I'll let you know when she's going to be on. When she confesses, it gives other women courage to tell their sins. She doesn't hold back — it does her good, too, to know she's helping people. Very dedicated — flies up every Saturday night after her last show, to teach Sunday School. She teaches the Young Men's Happiness Class and attendance has tripled since she took over.»

«I can believe that,» Jubal agreed. «How old are these lucky “Young Men”?»

Boone laughed. «You're not fooling me, you old devil — somebody told you the motto of Dawn's class: “Never too old to be young”.»

«No, truly.»

«You can't attend until you've seen the light and gone through cleansing. This is the One True Church, Pilgrim, not like those traps of Satan, those foul pits of iniquity that call themselves “churches” to lure the unwary into idolatry and other abominations. You can't walk in to kill a couple hours out of the rain — you gotta be saved first. In fact — oh, oh, camera warning.» Lights were blinking in each comer of the great hall. «And Jug's got 'em done to a turn. Now you'll see action!»

The snake dance gained recruits while the few left seated clapped cadence and bounced up and down. Ushers hurried to pick up the fallen, some of whom, mostly women, were writhing and foaming. These they dumped at the altar and left to flop like fish. Boone pointed his cigar at a gaunt red-head about forty whose dress was badly torn. «See that woman? It has been fully a year since she has gone through a service without being possessed by the Spirit. Sometimes Archangel Foster uses her mouth to talk to us … when that happens it takes four husky acolytes to hold her. She could go to heaven any time, she's ready. Anybody need a refill? Bar service is slow once the cameras are on and things get lively.»

Mike let his glass be replenished. He shared none of Jill's disgust with the scene. He had been deeply troubled when he discovered that the «Old One» was mere spoiled food, but he tabled that matter and was drinking deep of the frenzy below. It was so Martian in flavor that he felt both homesick and warmly at home. No detail was Martian, all was wildly different, yet he grokked a growing-closer as real as water ceremony, in numbers and intensity that he had never met outside his own nest. He wished forlornly that someone would invite him to join that jumping up and down. His feet tingled with an urge to merge with them.

He spotted Miss Dawn Ardent — perhaps she would invite him. He did not have to recognize her by size and proportions even though she was exactly as tall as his brother Jill with almost the same shapings. But Miss Dawn Ardent had her own face, her pains and sorrows and growings graved on it under her warm smile. He wondered if Miss Dawn Ardent might some day be willing to share water. Senator Bishop Boone made him feel wary and he was glad that Jubal had not seated them side by side. But he was sorry that Miss Dawn Ardent had been sent away.