"Never."

She shrugged. "It is your drama and you must be faithful to it, of course. I would be the first to question the wisdom of veering from the original conception. Your taste, your tone, your touch — they are exquisite. I shall argue no further."

"It appears to go beyond taste," said Jherek, picking at a piece of bark and making it thrum gently against the bole of the tree. "It is difficult to explain."

"What truly important work of art is not?"

He nodded. "You are right, Iron Orchid. That is all it is."

"It will soon resolve itself, fruit of my seed." She linked her arm in his. "Come, let us walk for a while through these tranquil streets. You might find inspiration here."

He allowed her to lead him across the pool while she, still in a mood of fond reminiscence, talked of his father's love of this particular city and the profound knowledge he had had of its history.

"And you never knew who my father was?"

"No. Wasn't it delicious? He remained in disguise throughout. We were in love for weeks!"

"No clues?"

"Oh, well…" She laughed lightly. "It would have spoiled it to have pursued the secret too fiercely, you know."

Beneath their feet some buried transformer sighed and made the ground tremble.

"I sometimes wonder," said the Iron Orchid as Jherek's landau carried them away from Shanalorm, "where all the current craze for Dawn Age discoveries is leading."

"Leading, my life?"

"Artistically, I mean. Soon, largely because of the fashion you began, we shall have recreated that age down to the finest details. It will be like inhabiting the 19th century."

"Yes, metallic magnificence?" He was polite but still unable to follow her drift.

"I mean, are we not in danger of taking Realism too far, Jherek? One's own imagination can become clogged, after all. It was always your argument that travelling into the past rather spoiled one's conception — made the outlines fuzzy, as it were — inhibited creativity."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "But I am not sure my 'London' is harmed from being inspired by experience rather than fantasy. The fad could go too far, of course. In the case, for instance, of the Duke of Queens…"

"I know you rarely favour his work. It can be extravagant sometimes, a little, I suppose, empty, but…"

"It is his tendency to vulgarize which disturbs me, to pile effect upon effect. I think he showed restraint in his 'New York, 1930,' for all the obvious influence of my own piece. Such influences might be good for him."

"He, among others, could take it too far," she said. "That is what I meant." Then she shrugged. "But soon you'll set a fresh fashion, Jherek, and they will follow that." She spoke almost wistfully, almost hopefully. "You will guide them away from excess."

"You are kind."

"Oh, more!" Her raven face lit with humour. "I am biased, my dear! You are my son!"

"I heard that the Duke of Queens had completed his 'New York.' Shall we go to see it?"

"Why not? And let us hope he'll be there, too. I am very fond of the Duke of Queens."

"As am I, for all that I do not share his tastes."

"He shares yours. You should be more generous."

They laughed.

The Duke of Queens was delighted to see them. He stood some distance away from his design, admiring it with unashamed pleasure. He was dressed in a style of the 800th century, all crystal spirals and curlicues, beast eyes and paper bosses, with gauntlets which made his hands invisible. His sensitive face with its heavy black beard turned upwards as he called to Jherek and his mother:

"Iron Orchid, in all your swarthy beauty! And Jherek! I give you full credit, my dear, for your original inspiration. Regard this as a tribute to your genius!"

Jherek warmed to the Duke of Queens, as always. His taste might not have been all it could be, but his generosity was unquestionable. He determined to praise the Duke's creation, no matter what he thought of it privately.

It was, in fact, a relatively moderate affair.

"It is from the same period as your 'London,' as you can see. Very true to the original, I think."

The Iron Orchid's hand tightened momentarily on Jherek's arm as they descended from the landau, as if to confirm the validity of her judgement.

"That tallest tower at the centre is the Empire State Apartments, in lapis lazuli and gold, built as the home of New York's greatest king (Kong the Mighty) who, as you know, ruled the city during its Golden Age. The bronze statue you see on the top of the building is Kong's…"

"He looks beautiful," said the Iron Orchid, "but almost inhuman."

"It was the Dawn Age," said the Duke. "The building is just over a mile and a quarter high (I took the dimensions from an historical text-book) and a splendid example of the barbaric simplicity of typical architecture of the early Uranium Centuries — almost too early, some would say."

Jherek wondered if the Duke of Queens were quoting whole from the text-book; his words had that ring to them.

"Are not the buildings crowded together rather?" said the Iron Orchid.

The Duke of Queens was not offended. "Deliberately," he told her. "The epics of the time made constant references to the narrowness of the streets, forcing people to move crabwise — hence the distinctive 'sidewalk' of New York."

"And what are those?" said Jherek, pointing to a collection of picturesque thatched cottages. "They seem untypical."

"It is the village of Greenwich, a kind of museum frequented by sailors. A famous vessel was moored in the river. Can you see it?" He indicated something tied to a jetty, it glinted in the dark water of a lagoon.

"It appears to be a gigantic glass bottle," said the Iron Orchid.

"So I thought, but somehow they managed to sail in them. Doubtless the secret of their locomotion has been lost, but I based the ship on a model of one I came across in a record. It is called the Cutty Sark ." The Duke of Queens permitted himself a smirk. "And that, my dear Jherek, is where I have had the privilege of being imitated. My Lady Charlotina was so impressed that she has begun a reproduction of some other famous ship of the period."

"I must say that your sense of detail is impressive," Jherek complimented him. "And have you populated the city?" He screwed up his eyes the better to see. "Are those figures moving about in it?"

"They are! Eight million of them."

"And what are those tiny flashes of light?" enquired the Iron Orchid.

"The muggers," said the Duke of Queens. "At that time New York attracted a good many artists, primarily photographers (called popularly 'shooters,' 'muggers,' or sometimes 'mug-shotters') and what you see are their cameras in action."

"You have a talent for thorough research," said Jherek.

"I owe much to my sources, I admit," agreed the Duke of Queens. "And I found a time traveller in my menagerie who was able to help. He wasn't from exactly the same period, but close enough to have seen many records of the time. Most of the other buildings are in lurex and coloured perspex, favourite materials of Dawn age craftsmen. The protective talismans are, of course, in neon, to ward off the forces of darkness."

"Ah, yes," said the Iron Orchid brightly. "Gaf the Horse in Tears had something similar in his 'Canceropolis, 2215.' "

"Really?" The Duke's tone was unintentionally distant. He was not fond of Gaf's work and had been known to describe it once as "over-eager." "I must go to see it."

"It's on the same theme as Argonheart Po's. 'Edible Birmingham, Undated,' I believe," said Jherek, to turn the subject a little. "I tried it a day or two ago. It was delicious."

"What he lacks in visual originality, he makes up for in culinary imagination."