"Fed? We can feed him here."

"Special food," said Jherek. "Only I know the recipe."

"But we pride ourselves on our cuisine at my menagerie," said My Lady Charlotina. "Let me know what he eats and it shall be prepared instantly."

"Oh," said Jherek.

My Lady Charlotina laughed and her embroidery went through a sudden and starting series of colours. "Jherek. You are looking positively shifty . What on earth are you planning?"

"Planning? Nothing." He felt miserable and wished deeply that he had not embarked upon this scheme.

"Your time-traveller. Did you really acquire him as you said, or is there some secret? Have you been back in time yourself?"

"No. No." His lips were dry. He adjusted his body moisture. It didn't seem to make much difference.

"Or did you make the time-traveller yourself, as I suspected? Could he be a fake?"

She was getting altogether too close. Jherek fixed his eye on the exit and murmured to Yusharisp. "That is the way to freedom. We must…"

My Lady Charlotina drifted closer, bent forward to peer at the disguised alien. Her perfume was so strong that Jherek felt faint. She addressed Yusharisp, her eyes narrowing:

"What's your name?" she said.

"He doesn't speak —" Jherek's voice cracked.

"Skree," said Yusharisp.

"His name is Skree," said Jherek, pushing the space-traveller forward with the flat of his hand. The space-traveller fell forward and, upon all fours, began to skitter in the direction of one of several tunnels leading from the cavern. His club lay gleaming on the floor behind him.

Lady Charlotina's brows drew closer together as an expression of dawning suspicion gradually spread over her embroidered face.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," said Brannart Morphail briskly, unaware of any other level of conversation taking place. "About the time machine." He turned to My Lady Charlotina, who had risen on one elbow in her force-hammock and was staring, open-mouthed, as Jherek sped away after the alien.

"Exciting," said Brannart Morphail. "A new form of time-travel, evidently."

"Or a new form of affectation," said My Lady Charlotina grimly. However, her voice was more melodramatic than sincere as she called, on a fading note: "Jherek! Jherek!"

Jherek kept running. But he turned, shouting: "My alien — I mean my time-traveller — he's escaping. Must catch him. Wonderful party. Farewell, coruscating Charlotina, for now!"

"Oh, oh, Jherek!"

And he fled after Yusharisp, through the tunnels to the Gateway in the Water — a tube of energy pushed up from the bottom of the lake to the surface — and thence to where his little locomotive hovered, awaiting him.

Jherek shot into the sky, dragging the alien (who had no antigravity ring) with him.

"Into the aircar!" Jherek panted, floating towards the locomotive.

Together they tumbled in and collapsed on the plush and ermine couch.

Jherek pulled the whistle cord.

"Mongrove's," he said, watching the lake for signs of pursuit, "and speedily."

With a wild hoot, the locomotive chugged rapidly towards the East, letting out great clouds of scarlet steam.

Looking back and down Jherek saw My Lady Charlotina emerge with a gush from the shimmering lake and, still in her force-hammock, still raised on one elbow, shout after him as he disappeared into the evening sky.

Jherek strained to catch the words, for she was using no form of projection. He hoped, too, she would be sporting enough not to use any kind of tracer on his aircar, or a traction beam to haul him back to Below-the-Lake. Possibly she still didn't realise what he had done.

But he heard the words clearly enough. "Stop," she called theatrically, languidly. "Stop thief!"

And Jherek felt his legs grow weak. He experienced one of the most exquisite thrills of his entire life. Even certain experiences of his adolescence hadn't done this for him. He sighed with pleasure.

"Stop," he murmured to himself as the locomotive moved rapidly towards Mongrove's. "Stop thief! Oh! Ah! Thief, thief, thief! " His breathing became heavier. He felt dizzy. "Stop thief!"

Yusharisp, who had been practising how to sit on the couch, gave up and sat on the floor. "Will there be trouble?" he said.

"I expect so," said Jherek, hugging himself. "Yes. Trouble ." His eyes were glassy. He stared through the alien.

Yusharisp was touched by what he interpreted as Jherek's nobility. "Why are you risking so much, then, for a stranger like myself?"

"For love!" whispered Jherek, and another shudder of pleasure ran through him. "For love! "

"You are a great-hearted, skree, creature," said Yusharisp tenderly. He rose on his hands and knees and looked up at Jherek, his eyes shining. "Greater, skree, skree, skree, love, as we (roar) say on my planet, hath skree, skree, no man skree, ryof chio lar, oof." He stopped in embarrassment. "It must skree, be untranslatable."

"I'd better change you back into your proper shape before we get to Mongrove's," said Jherek, his tone becoming business-like.

Mongrove had been delighted to receive Yusharisp. He had embraced, and almost smothered, the little round space-traveller, beginning immediately to question him on all aspects of his message of doom.

The space-traveller had been pleased by the reception, though he was still under the impression that he was soon to be helped to leave the planet. That was why Jherek Carnelian had made the transaction as quickly as possible and left with his new treasure while Mongrove and Yusharisp were still deep in conversation.

Mrs. Amelia Underwood had been stiffened for easy transportation (without her realising that she was to belong to Jherek now) and shipped aboard the locomotive.

Jherek had lost no time in returning to his ranch and there depositing Mrs. Underwood in what in ancient times had always been the most important section of the house, the cellar. The cellar was immediately above his bedroom and contained towering transparent tanks of carnelian- and pearl-coloured wine. It was also the prettiest room in the house and he felt Mrs. Underwood would be pleased to wake up in such lovely surroundings.

Laying her upon an ottoman bed in the exact centre of the room, Jherek adjusted Mrs. Underwood so that she would sleep and awake slowly and naturally the following morning.

He then went to his own bedroom, impatient to prepare himself for when he next encountered her, determined that he should this time make a good impression. Though it was still many hours until morning, he began to make his plans. He intended to wear something ordinary and give up trying to please her by imitation, since she had made no comment on his earlier costume. He made a solid holograph of himself and dressed it in several different styles, making the holograph move about the room wearing the styles until he was satisfied and had selected the one he wanted.

He would wear everything — robes, shoes, hair, eyebrows and lips — in white. He would blend in well with the main decor of the cellar, particularly if he wore only one ring, the rich, red garnet, which clung to the third finger of his right hand like a drop of fresh blood.

Jherek wondered if Mrs. Underwood would like to change into something different. The grey suit, the white blouse and the straw hat were beginning to look rather crumpled and faded. He decided to construct some clothes for her and take them with him as one of his courting gifts. He had seen enough of the literature of the period to know that the offering of such a gift was a necessary part of the courting ritual and would surely be welcome.

He must think of another gift, too. Something traditional. And music. There must be music playing in the background…