“Who’s that?”

“My servant. She’s disguised as me, taking risks for me, along with eight robots. It’s up to me to do what I can for her. Always.”

“But she’s your servant,” said C’mell. “She serves you. Almost like being an underperson, like me.”

“She’s a person,” said Rod, stubbornly. “We have no underpeople in Norstrilia, except for a few in government jobs. But she’s my friend.”

“Do you want to marry her?”

“Great sick sheep, girl! Are you barmy? No!”

“Do you want to marry anybody?”

“At sixteen?” he cried. “Anyhow, my family will arrange it.” The thought of plain honest devoted Lavinia crossed his mind, and he could not help comparing her to this wild voluptuous creature who floated beside him in the tunnel as the traffic passed them going up and down. With near weightlessness, C’mell’s hair floated like a magic flower around her head. She had been brushing it out of her eyes from time to time. He snorted, “Not Eleanor.”

When he said this, another idea crossed the mind of the beautiful cat-girl.

“You know what I am, Rod,” said she, very seriously.

“A cat-girl from the planet Earth. You’re supposed to be my wife.”

“That’s right,” she said, with an odd intonation in her voice. “Be it, then!”

“What?” said Rod.

“My husband,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “Be my husband, if it will help you to find you.”

She stole a quick glance up and down the shaft. There was nobody near.

“Look, Rod, look!” She spread the opening of her dress down and aside. Even with the poor light, to which his eyes had become accustomed, he could see the fine tracery of veins in her delicate chest and her young, pear-shaped breasts. The aureoles around the nipples were a clear, sweet, innocent pink; the nipples themselves were as pretty as two pieces of candy. For a moment there was pleasure and then a terrible embarrassment came over him. He turned his face away and felt horribly self-conscious. What she had done was interesting but it wasn’t nice.

When he dared to glance at her, she was still studying his face.

“I’m a girlygirl, Rod. This is my business. And you’re a cat, with all the rights of a tomcat. Nobody can tell the difference, here in this tunnel. Rod, do you want to do anything?”

Rod gulped and said nothing.

She swept her clothing back into place. The strange urgency left her voice. “I guess,” she said, “that that left me a little breathless. I find you pretty attractive, Rod. I find myself thinking, ‘what a pity he is not a cat.’ I’m over it now.”

Rod said nothing.

A bubble of laughter came into her voice, along with something mothering and tender, which tugged at his heartstrings. “Best of all, Rod, I didn’t mean it. Or maybe I did. I had to give you a chance before I felt that I really knew you. Rod, I’m one of the most beautiful girls on Old Earth itself. The Instrumentality uses me for that very reason. We’ve turned you into a cat and offered you me, and you won’t have me. Doesn’t that suggest that you don’t know who you are?”

“Are you back on that?” said Rod. “I guess I just don’t understand girls.”

“You’d better, before you’re through with Earth,” she said. “Your agents have bought a million of them for you, out of all that stroon money.”

“People or underpeople?”

“Both!”

“Let them bug sheep!” he cried. “I had no part in ordering them. Come on, girl. This is no place for a boudoir conversation!”

“Where on Earth did you learn that word?” she laughed.

“I read books. Lots of books. I may look like a peasant to you Earth people, but I know a lot of things.”

“Do you trust me, Rod?”

He thought of her immodesty, which still left him a little breathless. The Old North Australian humor reasserted itself in him, as a cultural characteristic and not just as an individual one: “I’ve seen a lot of you, C’mell,” said he with a grin. “I suppose you don’t have many surprises left. All right, I trust you. Then what?”

She studied him closely.

“I’ll tell you what E’ikasus and I were discussing.”

“Who?”

“Him.” She nodded at the little monkey.

“I thought his name was A’gentur.”

“Like yours is C’rod!” she said.

“He’s not a monkey?” asked Rod.

She looked around and lowered her voice. “He’s a bird,” she said solemnly, “and he’s the second most important bird on Earth.”

“So what?” said Rod.

“He’s in charge of your destiny, Rod. Your life or your death. Right now.”

“I thought,” he whispered back, “that that was up to the Lord Redlady and somebody named Jestocost on Earth.”

“You’re dealing with other powers, Rod — powers which keep themselves secret. They want to be friends with you. And I think,” she added in a complete non sequitur, “that we’d better take the risk and go”

He looked blank and she added,

“To the Catmaster.”

“They’ll do something to me there.”

“Yes,” she said. Her face was calm, friendly, and even. “You will die, maybe — but not much chance. Or you might go mad — there’s always the possibility. Or you will find all the things you want — that’s the likeliest of all. I have been there, Rod. I myself have been there. Don’t you think that I look like a happy, busy girl, when you consider that I’m really just an animal with a rather low-down job?”

Rod studied her, “How old are you?”

“Thirty next year,” she said, inflexibly.

“For the first time?”

“For us animal-people there is no second time, Rod. I thought you knew that.”

He returned her gaze. “If you can take it,” said he, “I can too. Let’s go.”

She lifted A’gentur or E’ikasus, depending on which he really was, off the wall, where he had been sleeping like a marionette between plays. He opened his exhausted little eyes and blinked at her.

“You have given us our orders,” said C’mell. “We are going to the Department Store.”

“I have?” he said, crossly, coming much more awake. “I don’t remember it!”

She laughed, “Just through me, E’ikasus!”

“That name!” he hissed. “Don’t get foolhardy. Not in a public shaft.”

“All right, A’gentur,” she responded, “but do you approve?”

“Of the decision?”

She nodded.

The little monkey looked at both of them. He spoke to Rod, “If she gambles her life and yours, not to mention mine — if she takes chances to make you much, much happier, are you willing to come along?”

Rod nodded in silent agreement.

“Let’s go, then,” said the monkey-surgeon.

“Where are we going?” asked Rod.

“Down into Earthport City. Among all the people. Swarms and swarms of them,” said C’mell, “and you will get to see the everyday life of Earth, just the way that you asked at the top of the tower, an hour ago.”

“A year ago, you mean,” said Rod. “So much has happened!” He thought of her young naked breasts and the impulse which had made her show them to him, but the thought did not make him excited or guilty; he felt friendly, because he sensed in their whole relationship a friendliness much more fervent than sex itself.

“We are going to a store,” said the sleepy monkey.

“A commissary. For things? What for?”

“It has a nice name,” said C’mell, “and it is run by a wonderful person. The Catmaster himself. Five hundred some years old, and still allowed to live by virtue of the legacy of the Lady Goroke.”

“Never heard of her,” said Rod. “What’s the name?”

“The Department Store of Heart’s Desires,” said C’mell and E’ikasus simultaneously.

The trip was a vivid, quick dream. They had only a few hundred meters to fall before they reached ground level.

They came out on the people-street. A robot-policeman watched them from a corner.

Human beings in the costumes of a hundred historical periods were walking around in the warm, wet air of Earth. Rod could not smell as much salt in the air as he had smelled at the top of the tower, but down here in the city it smelled of more people than he had ever even imagined in one place. Thousands of individuals? hundreds, and thousands of different kinds of foods, the odors of robots, of underpeople and of other things which seemed to be unmodified animals.