Soothsayer (25 page)

"What do you mean, getting rid of me?” scoffed Merlin. “She's just a kid with a talent. You make her sound like Three-Fisted Ollie."

"Don't you understand what precognition means?"

"Of course I do. It means she can predict the future. It may be a pretty handy talent to have at the racetrack, and I can see why all these high rollers want her around, but I sure as hell don't see why you find it so frightening."

"Then I'll spell it out for you,” said the Mouse. “There isn't just
one
future. There are an infinity of them. She has the ability to see huge numbers of them."

"I still don't follow you."

"She can help to bring about the one she most wants to happen."

"Everybody tries to do that,” he said, still not comprehending.

"Everybody tries; she succeeds.” The Mouse paused. “Let me give you an example. In maybe half the futures she saw, something went wrong with our escape—the cord broke, the guard woke up too early, she lost her grip on you when you were going up to the roof. She has the ability to see each of those futures, and to figure out what she has to do to stop them from coming to pass."

"You're crazy!” he scoffed.

"Remember those two dead bodies we found next to our ship back on Cherokee?"

"Are you trying to tell me
she
killed them?"

"She chose a future in which they died. That's not the same thing,” said the Mouse. “She's not a killer. She's just a little girl who protects herself the best way she can."

Merlin considered what the Mouse had said. “If you're right—and that's a big
if
—it's one hell of an effective way to protect herself."

"Yes it is,” agreed the Mouse. “So you see, if she thought you were anything more than a minor irritant, you'd probably have had a stroke or a heart attack on the way over here. At the very least, you'd have tripped on the way to our room and broken a leg."

"I don't know whether to be insulted or grateful,” he said wryly. He paused and stared at her. “And you
like
this kid?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She's got the whole galaxy against her,” said the Mouse. “I'm the only friend she has."

"That's no reason. Half the people we know have prices on their heads, and you don't like
them
."

"She's very sweet, and very lonely."

Merlin looked out the window, where Penelope was now playing with the other girls. “I'd hardly call that a lonely little girl,” he said sardonically.

"I don't have to justify my reasons to you,” said the Mouse, suddenly annoyed. “All you have to know if that she's staying with us."

"All right,” said Merlin. “If that's the way it is, that's the way it is. She joins the team and we get the hell out of here first thing in the morning."

"We'd better,” said the Mouse, wondering if Merlin had given in too quickly. “You've probably got every bounty hunter on the planet looking for us, to say nothing of the Yankee Clipper and his men."

"Right,” he said. “That's a lot of manpower out there. The sooner we get off the planet, the better."

"Do you have your own ship?” asked the Mouse.

"No. I came with Three-Fisted Ollie."

"Then we're going to have to find some way to catch a commercial space flight without being spotted."

"It won't be easy,” said Merlin. “They'll be watching the spaceport.” He grimaced. “And while they want Penelope alive, I don't think the same applies to you and me."

"No, it doesn't,” she agreed.

Merlin got to his feet. “There must be a bar around here, and I do my best thinking in bars. Care to join me for a drink?"

The Mouse shook her head. “I'd better stay here in case Penelope come back."

Merlin stared at her and finally smiled. “Funny,” he commented. “I never thought of you as the maternal type."

"Neither did I,” said the Mouse.

The magician walked to the door. “I'll be back in half an hour or so. Maybe sooner, if I can figure a way out of this mess."

"I'll be here."

He left the room, and the Mouse began walking around, checking the holovision and the octaphonic sound system, examining the cabinets in the bathroom and the closets in the bedrooms, more from habit than any particular need.

Penelope entered the room a few minutes later.

"You're back early,” noted the Mouse. “Weren't you getting along well with the girls?"

"They were very nice,” said Penelope.

"Well, then?"

"We have to leave, Mouse."

"Leave? You mean, leave the hotel?"

Penelope nodded. “Soon."

"Somebody knows we're here?"

"Yes."

"How much time have we got?” asked the Mouse.

"Maybe ten minutes, maybe a little less."

"All right,” said the Mouse. “Merlin's in the bar. We'll pick up him and get the hell out of here."

"No!” said Penelope.

"He just risked his life to rescue us,” said the Mouse.

"We don't want him, Mouse."

"We don't desert our friends, Penelope,” replied the Mouse. “I thought I explained that to you before.” She paused. “I wonder how they found us so quickly? I thought we'd be safe here for a few days."

"Merlin is telling them right now."

"They're
here
?"

"No. He's talking to them on a vidphone—but they'll be here very soon."

"You actually saw him calling them?"

Penelope placed a finger to her temple. “In here."

The Mouse stared long and hard at the little girl. “You're sure?"

"Yes."

"That double-crossing bastard!"

"Come on, Mouse,” said Penelope, tugging at her arm. “We have to hurry!"

"Where is this friend of yours who we were going to meet on Calliope?” asked the Mouse. “We sure as hell could use a friend right now."

"I don't know."

The Mouse entered the corridor, looked around to make sure Merlin wasn't on his way back to the room, and nodded. “This way,” she said, heading off to her left. “The other way takes us by the bar, and I don't want him to see us leaving."

Penelope, her doll clutched against her body, reached out for the Mouse with her free hand.

"Come on,” said the Mouse, increasing her pace. “If we're lucky, we can catch a groundcab and be out of here before Merlin knows we're gone."

They walked past a small holo theater, a coffee shop, and a large indoor pool, then carefully approached the lobby.

"Have Merlin's friends arrived yet?” whispered the Mouse.

"Not yet,” said the girl.

"All right. Let's go."

They walked rapidly through the lobby, then stood in front of the hotel as the Mouse tried to hail a groundcab.

"Isn't it ever going to end?” said Penelope wearily.

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If Xanadu showed off Calliope's scrubbed, wholesome face to hundreds of thousands of eager tourists, then New Gomorrah displayed its less affluent side. The city rose up out of the grasslands, a carbunkle on the smooth surface of the Western Savannah. It possessed seven multi-environmental hotels, and almost all of the aliens who landed on Calliope immediately made their way to New Gomorrah.

There were tourist attractions, to be sure, and the streets were not unsafe, and many a safari started off from the veranda of the Norfolk II—but, perhaps because the aliens had less money to spend, or perhaps simply because they
were
aliens, the attractions New Gomorrah offered were seemed less enticing that those of its eastern sister.

Where Xanadu offered circuses with fabulous acrobats and exotic animals, New Gomorrah offered carnivals with sideshows and crooked games. Where Xanadu offered theater, New Gomorrah offered holo shows. Where Xanadu's hotels were palatial, New Gomorrah's were plain, functional structures. Where Xanadu offered fine restaurants with elegantly-prepared dishes, New Gomorrah offered a plethora of alien restaurants with foodstuffs most humans had never seen and could not metabolize.

Moreover, there was something about New Gomorrah that seemed to bring out the bloodlust in its clientele. It was here that one came for hunting, rather than holographic, safaris. It was here that animals and occasionally men and aliens fought to the death before crowds both large and very small. It was here that truly huge fortunes were won and lost in the back rooms of gaming parlors. And it was here that almost every perversion known to man or alien could be experienced if enough money changed hands.

The Mouse and Penelope had avoided the spaceport, knowing that it would be under surveillance. With the rest of the planet to choose from, Penelope had looked at a map and immediately selected New Gomorrah. It had taken them three full days to get there via the most obscure and circuitious routes, by which time both their energy and their bankroll were equally depleted. The Mouse, who hadn't seen a bed in three days, had wanted to spend their last hundred credits on a hotel, but Penelope insisted that they go directly to the carnivals the were clustered on the outskirts of the city.

"Why?” asked the Mouse wearily.

"Because we'll meet my friend at one of them."

"You're sure this friend actually exists?” said the Mouse. “I mean, it's not as if he showed up when we needed him before."

"We need him even more now,” said Penelope.

"If he's here now, he'll be here in the morning,” replied the Mouse. “Let's get a room and catch up on our sleep first."

"I don't want to miss him,” insisted Penelope.

"You make him sound like a traveling salesman."

"I don't know what he is. I just know he's here."

"And you think he's at one of these carnivals?” asked the Mouse.

"I don't know. I just have a feeling we should go there."

"Well, your feelings have been pretty accurate so far,” said the Mouse with an exhausted sigh. “Let's go."

They caught a courtesy vehicle to the nearest carnival, a relatively small establishment that catered to families with small children. They could hear screams of delight from within the tents, and a number of clowns, both human and alien, mingled with the crowd, passing out free tickets to minor attractions.

"Well?” asked the Mouse.

Penelope shook her head. “This isn't the place."

"Thank God for that,” said the Mouse. “All those well-scrubbed, vacant-faced families would drive me crazy."

"Don't you like families, Mouse?” asked Penelope.

The Mouse shrugged. “I don't know. I never had one.” She smiled down at the girl. “You're family enough for me."

"You're my family, too,” said Penelope earnestly. “You and Maryanne."

"Where to now?” asked the Mouse.

"Let's just keep going,” said Penelope. “I'll know when we've arrived."

"Whatever you say,” said the Mouse, flagging down another courtesy vehicle.

They passed an open-air zoo that specialized in alien animals, a huge stadium that seemed not to have any events scheduled that day, and a farm that bred gigantic reptiles from Antarres, and then they came to a sprawling carnival.

"This is it,” whispered Penelope, and the Mouse signaled the driver to let them off.

"This thing must cover 30 acres or more,” said the Mouse, standing before the entrance with Penelope. “Do you have any idea what he looks like?"

"I don't even know if it
is
a he,” answered Penelope. “But I know we'll find him here, or he'll find us."

"Will you know him when you see him?"

Penelope shrugged. “I suppose so."

The Mouse paid their entrance fee, and they spent the next few hours shouldering their way through the crowds of tourists, walking up and down the rows of games and exhibits, past the hustlers and grifters, the strip shows and the freak shows, the alien exhibits, the pleasurepain palaces, the cheap rides, the display of cattle and hogs from Earth itself.

"I'm about ready to give up for the day,” said the Mouse as the midafternoon heat became more intense. She sat down at an empty table near a row of food stands and gestured Penelope to join her. “There must be ten thousand people here,” she continued as the little girl sat next to her. “We could have walked right past him and never known it."

"He'll
be
here,” Penelope said firmly.

"Soon?"

"I don't know."

"Today? Tomorrow? Next week?” continued the Mouse. “I don't mean to worry you, but we're almost broke. The Forever Kid has most of my money, and I've just about run through the rest of it. Whether we keep looking for your mysterious friend or book passage off the planet, we're going to have to find a way to make some more money. I've got enough to keep us going for maybe three more days, four if we find a cheap enough place to stay.” She paused. “Do you know if your friend will show up by then?"

Penelope shrugged. “I don't know."

"You're sure we're at the right place?” asked the Mouse. “There are a lot of other carnivals around New Gomorrah."

"We're in the right place."

The Mouse sighed deeply. “Then we might as well stay right here at the carnival. The less we move around New Gomorrah, the less likely we are to be spotted."

"Will they let us stay here?” asked Penelope.

"Not as tourists. But I saw a few empty booths and tents. All we have to do is come up with some kind of scam and convince the manager to let us go to work for him."

"What can we do?"

"That's a problem,” admitted the Mouse. “I suppose I could hire on as a stripper, but I'm so scrawny and ugly that people would pay me to put my clothes back on."

"That's not true,” said Penelope heatedly. “You're very pretty, Mouse."

"That's a matter of some debate,” replied the Mouse wryly. “Anyway, take my word for it—no one would hire me."

"Then what can we do?"

The Mouse lowered her head in thought for a moment, then looked up and smiled. “You know what I didn't see when we walked up and down the aisles?"

"What?"

"A fortune teller's booth."

"What's that?” asked Penelope.

"A fortune teller? It's someone who pretends to do what you really
can
do: foresee the future.” She paused briefly. “Do you remember how you saw my cards back at the casino on Last Chance?"