"Definitely a Birmingham of the mind," agreed the Iron Orchid, "and for the palate. Some of the buildings were blatant copies of My Lady Charlotina's 'Rome, 1946.' "

"A shame about the lions," murmured the Duke of Queens sympathetically.

"They got out of control," said the Iron Orchid. "I warned her that they would. Not enough Christians. Still, I thought it drastic to disseminate it, merely because the population was eaten. But the flying elephants were lovely, weren't they?"

"I'd never seen a circus before," said Jherek.

"I was just about to leave for Lake Billy the Kid, where some of the ships are being launched." The Duke of Queens indicated his latest air car, a vast copy of one of the Martian flying machines which had attempted to destroy New York during the period in which he took an interest. "Would you like to come?"

"A wonderful idea," said the Iron Orchid and Jherek, thinking that one way of passing the time was as good as another, agreed.

"We shall follow in my landau," he said.

The Duke of Queens gestured with one of his invisible hands. "There is plenty of room in my air car, but just as you like." He felt beneath his crystalline robes and produced a flying helmet and goggles. Donning them, he strode to his carriage, climbed with some difficulty up the smooth side and settled himself in the cock-pit.

Jherek watched in amusement as there came a roaring from the machine, a glow which was soon red-hot, a shower of sparks and a considerable amount of blue smoke, and then the contraption was lurching upwards. The Duke of Queens seemed to specialize in exceedingly unstable methods of transport.

Lake Billy the Kid had been enlarged for the occasion of the regatta (this, in itself, was unusual) and the surrounding mountains had all been moved back to accommodate the extra water. Small groups of people were gathered here and there on the shore, staring at the ships which had so far been presented. They made a fine collection.

Jherek and the Iron Orchid landed on the white ash of the beach and joined the Duke of Queens who was already talking to their hostess. My Lady Charlotina still wore several breasts and an extra pair of arms and her skin was a delicate blue; for decoration she had a collar from which trailed a few gauzy wisps of various colours. Her large eyes were alight with pleasure at seeing them.

"Iron Orchid, still in mourning I see. And Jherek Carnelian, most famous of metatemporal explorers. I had not expected you."

Slightly put out, the Iron Orchid unostentatiously changed her skin colour to a more natural shade. Her gown became suddenly so blindingly white that they all blinked. She toned it down, murmuring apologies. "Which of the boats is yours, dear?"

My Lady Charlotina pursed her lips in mock disapproval. " Ships , most venerable of plants. That one is mine." She inclined her head in the direction of an immense reproduction of a woman, lying stomach-down in the water, her arms and legs spread out symmetrically, a crown of gold and diamonds upon her wooden head. "The Queen Elizabeth ."

As they watched, a great gust of blackness billowed from the ears of the model and from the mouth (barely above the surface) there came a melancholy tooting.

"The one beside it is the Monitor , which carried off some virgins or something, did it not?" This was smaller than the Queen Elizabeth ; the vessel's bulk representing a man's body, its back arched inwards, with a huge bull's head on its shoulders. "O'Kala Incarnadine simply can't rid himself of his obsession with beasts. It's sweet, really."

"Are they all of the same period?" asked the Duke of Queens. "That one, for instance?" He pointed to a rather shapeless ship. "It looks more like an island."

"That's the S.S. France ," explained My Lady Charlotina. "It's Grevol Lockspring's entry. The one just streaming towards it is the Water Lily — I'm sure it wasn't a real plant." She named some of the other peculiarly wrought vessels. "The Mary Rose . The Hindenburg . The Patna . And isn't that one beautiful — stately — The Leningrad? "

"They are all lovely," said The Iron Orchid vaguely. "What will they do when they are assembled?"

"Fight, of course," said My Lady Charlotina in excitement. "That's what they were built for, you see, in the Dawn Age. Imagine the scene — a heavy mist on the waters — two ships manoeuvring, each aware of the other, neither being able to find the other. It is, say, my Queen Elizabeth and Argonheart Po's Nautilus (I fear it will melt before the regatta is finished). The Nautilus sees the Queen Elizabeth , its foghorns disperse the mist, it focuses its funnels and — whoosh! — the Queen Elizabeth is struck by thousands of little belaying needles — she shudders and retaliates — from her forward ports (they must have been her breasts; that is where I've put them, at any rate) pour lethal tuxedos, wrapping themselves around the Nautilus and trying to drag it under. But the Nautilus is not so easily defeated … Well, you can imagine the rest, and I will not spoil the actual regatta for you. Almost all the ships are here now. I believe there are a couple of entries to come, then we begin."

"I cannot wait," said Jherek absently. "Is Brannart Morphail, by the by, still residing with you, My Lady Charlotina?"

"He has apartments at Below-the-Lake, yes. He is there now, I would guess. I asked him for help with the design of the Queen Elizabeth , but he was too busy."

"Is he still angry with me?"

"Well, you did lose one of his favourite time machines."

"It hasn't returned, then?"

"No. Are you expecting it?"

"I thought, perhaps, Mrs. Underwood would use it to come back to us. You would tell me if she did?"

"You know that I would. Your relationship with her is my abiding interest."

"Thank you. And have you seen Lord Jagged of Canaria recently?"

"He was supposed to come today. He half-promised to contribute a ship, but he is doubtless as lazy as ever and has forgotten. He might well be in one of those strange, unsociable moods of his. He retires, as you know, from society from time to time. Oh, Mistress Christia, what is this?"

The Everlasting Concubine fluttered long lashes over her wide, blue eyes. She was clad in filmy pink, with a pink hat perched on her golden hair. Her hands were dressed in pink gloves and she was presenting something which rested on her outstretched palms. "It is not an entry, exactly," she said, "but I thought you might like it."

"I do! What is it called?"

"The Good Ship Venus ." Mistress Christia smiled at Jherek. "Hello, my dear. Does the flame of your lust burn as strongly as ever?"

"I am in love, these days," he said.

"You draw a distinction."

"I have been assured that there is one." He kissed her upon her perfect nose. She tickled his ear.

"Where do you discover all these wonderful old emotions?" she asked. "You must talk to Werther — he has the same interests, but does not pursue them with your panache, I am afraid. Has he told you about his 'sin'?"

"I have not seen him since my return from 1896."

My Lady Charlotina interrupted, placing a caressing hand upon Mistress Christia's thigh. "Werther excelled himself — and so did you, Everlasting Concubine. Surely you aren't criticizing him?"

"How could I? I must tell you about Werther's 'crime,' Jherek. It all began on the day that I accidentally broke his rainbow…" And she embarked upon a story which Jherek found fascinating, not merely because it was really a very fine story, but also because it seemed to relate to some of the ideas he was himself mulling over. He wished that he found Werther better company, but every time he tried to have a conversation with the gloomy solitary, Werther would accuse him of being superficial or insensitive and the whole thing would descend into a series of puzzled questions on Jherek's part and recriminations on Werther's.