Dumarest nodded.
"A signal was received from your vessel and a ship was sent to intercept and rescue. Messages had been received from Hoghan warning of the outbreak of plague and so all precautions were at hand ready to be taken. You were sealed, brought down to planet, installed in the Institute and taken care of. A lucky escape, sir, if I may say so. Not one in a hundred can hope to recover from Chelha and not more than one in ten thousand is naturally immune."
Luck, and it was still riding with him. Dumarest looked at the room, the expensive appointments, the mass of complicated equipment. Money, time, and care had been spent on him-who was footing the bill? And what had happened to Dephine?
Both questions were answered at the same time.
"Your lady is taking care of everything, sir. She is a most remarkable woman and, in fact, she saved your life. A natural immune which is rare enough, but one with intelligence and knowledge also. She realised that, unaided, you would not survive the crisis and remembered a fragment of learning gained when she studied elementary medicine. You would know about that, naturally, but she would have needed a grim determination to have carried out her decision. A bold woman, sir, and a brave one. May I congratulate you a third time on your choice of a partner."
Dumarest said, patiently, "You will excuse me if I seem dull, but I wasn't conscious at the time, as you must know. Just what did she do?"
"To save you?" The doctor shrugged. "She could not, of course, have known that she was a natural immune but as time passed and she didn't contact the plague she must have had an inclination that she was in some way favored. The problem was how to pass her resistance-factor to you. Without the correct equipment she could not make a true vaccine and it was essential that the appropriate antibiotics should be transmitted active and alive. I am not using professional terminology, you understand."
"Get on with it, man. What did she do?"
"If the flesh is seared a blister will form," said the man a little stiffly. "The blister will contain a fluid which is derived from the blood, containing none of the potentially harmful corpuscles but a kind of strained and refined distillation which can be used as an inoculation-fluid. This is what your lady did."
"Burned herself?"
"On the breast and thigh. Both wounds are now fully healed and, naturally, there are no scars." The doctor made a small gesture as of a man suddenly reminded of something. "She is well and, like yourself, out of quarantine. I'm sorry, I should have mentioned that before. Naturally you would have been worried."
"Naturally," said Dumarest, dryly. "Where is she now?"
"At this time of day most probably at the Krhan Display. You wish to join her?"
Dumarest said, "Get me my clothes."
The Institute itself stood on a rolling expanse of close-cropped sward; the building housing the display was set in an oasis of flowers, giant blooms which held within their petals the blended colors of broken rainbows. The breeze was blowing towards him and Dumarest caught their scent long before he reached the flowers themselves. The odor was sweetly rich, stimulating to the nostrils, yet holding within itself the cloying stench of decay. The petals too were thick and curled like segments of tissue and, as he headed towards the path, some of the great blooms turned to follow his progress.
"My lord?" A guard blocked his path, eyes roving over Dumarest from head to foot. He wore his own clothes, refurbished, the plastic glistening with a liquid sheen, the grey in strong contrast to the profusion of color. Like himself they had been cleansed, checked, passed fit for normal circulation.
"My lord?" said the guard again, the title more a question than a deferential politeness. "May I be of assistance?"
"The Lady Dephine?"
"She is within." The guard gestured towards the curved entrance of the display. "And you? A patient? My apologies, but-" He broke off, a little discomforted. Those who could afford the expense of the Institute were not usually so sombre in their choice of dress. "To the left as you enter, my lord. The lady is probably in the inner chamber."
Music echoed with faint tinklings as Dumarest passed through the door, an electronic chime activated by his body-mass, serving both to announce his presence and to warn those within that a stranger had come to join them. A peculiarity for which he could see no need, as there had seemed none for the guard. Then, as he looked through the shadowed gloom, the reason became obvious.
The walls glowed with color, patches of flaming brilliance interspersed with areas of muted luminescence, a profusion of sparkles and shades, of glows and shafts and points, of pulses and ripples in each and every combination of hue. Works of art constructed of metal and crystal, of trapped gasses and seething liquids, of sponge-like ceramics and foils which hummed and moved as if alive.
Before one a woman stood, lost in rapture, her hands squeezing her naked breasts, her breathing a deep and quickening susurration. Beyond her a man crouched in an attitude of attack, lips drawn back over snarling teeth, hands lifted, fingers hooked, ropes of muscle standing clear on his naked arms and torso. A couple lost in each other, so interlocked that it seemed as if they were one. A young girl who simpered and ran to stand with her thumb in her mouth and invitation in her eyes. An oldster who drooled. A matron who stood with parted lips and cried in silence. A boy who talked to the air in muted gibberish.
Dumarest passed them all, his boots soundless on the padded floor, light from the display shimmering from his sterile clothing, the polished boots, the hilt of the knife riding above the right.
Dephine was in the inner chamber.
She sat on a circular couch which slowly turned in the centre of the floor so that one seated could see the entire extent of the inner display. It was in sharp contrast to that outside, sombre tones now instead of stimulating brilliance, lines and planes holding a subtle disquiet which seemed to darken the glowing constructs. Her eyes were blank, emerald pools which glistened with reflected light beneath the carefully dressed mane of her hair. Eyes which blinked and became alive when Dumarest stood before her.
"Earl!" She rose, hands lifted, the nails glowing as they turned to rest the palms against his cheeks. "Earl! At last!"
"You've been waiting long?"
"An eternity! Earl, you look so well!" Her palms stroked his cheeks, ran down the line of his jaw, the tips of her fingers resting on his lips, following the contours of his mouth. Her eyes were wide, luminous with unshed tears of joy, her face bearing the radiance of a young girl. "Earl."
A sudden flood of natural emotion or a reaction to his presence caused by the effects of the display? Dumarest stepped back, looking at her, conscious of the impact of her femininity, his own wakening desire.
"Dephine, you look well."
An understatement, she looked beautiful. Rich fabrics clothed the long, lithe contours of her body, gems shone at ears and neck, wrists and fingers. More from the auburn cloud of her hair. Her eyes gleamed beneath the slanted brows and, in the hollows of her cheeks beneath the prominent bone, luminous shadows danced to enhance the wide invitation of her mouth.
He said, a little unsteadily, "Let's get out of here."
"Why, don't you like it?" Sitting she patted the couch at her side. "Join me, Earl. Let me feel the warmth of your body close to mine. The life that is within you. The strong, so strong determination to survive. The only reason you are with me now. Did they tell you that when you woke? That a lesser man would have succumbed?"
"This place-"
"A work of genius, Earl. Krhan was a master of his art. A visionary who took inert material and imbued it with life." Her voice sobered a little. "He haunted the beds of the dying and recorded their every hope and fear and aspiration later to use those recordings to program the structure of the artifacts which now rest all around us. Extremes of emotion caught and reflected to be assimilated by those who come here to stand and concentrate and become one with the emanations. You've seen them, Earl, you understand."
