Mytholumina

by Storm Constantine

  Asher Tantine is a small, solitary world, circling its angry sun devoid of companions. I’d been offered the position there some months earlier but, even though there’d been veiled hints of enormous payment, the vagueness of the commission had put me off following it up. After the incident with Lenora, which had effectively rendered me fundless, I decided to accept the job and trust that the lack of detail didn’t conceal something unpleasant.

  I am a professional and my talents are nested in an interstellar reputation of excellence. There used to be a time when I leapt upon any job that came my way with dog-like enthusiasm and a desperate desire to please. Now, I’m older, more experienced and can afford to be choosy. Discerning clients make offers designed not to offend my dignity and, thus, I choose them. And what is my profession? Well, that is the beginning and end of most of my problems. It is why I’ve learned to be strong and unassailable. I am a Pleasure Giver. Pleasure in all its forms, however dark, is available from my fingers, eyes and body. I began my life as a white-skinned male but, over the years, have found that several adjustments to my pigmentation and physical form improved the appearance not only of myself but also my bank balance. I was apprenticed to a veritable master of the craft, Eeging Lampeter, who is sadly now unavailable for commission. He trained me well. For many years I couldn’t afford sophisticated equipment to aid me in my work and relied wholly upon what the gods had given me, plus whatever hardware can be obtained from an average kitchen. Sexual gratification is not the only form of pleasure in this universe. It is one of them, certainly, and one at which I am exceptionally gifted, but there are many others, some explicable only in the language of their planet of origin. Suffice to say, I know my stuff.

  On arrival at one of the two spaceports on Asher Tantine I was feeling alert, invigorated and looking forward to serious employment. The evening air was very sweet on that world, almost like a thick liqueur in the lungs. The sun was sinking behind the grotesque, skeletal forms of slumbering space-yachts, cargo vessels and those sleek, nippy cruisers that burn out after only a couple of years. This spoke of affluence. The population might have been small, but it was moneyed. There were a few weary moments at the customs kiosk, during which I had to endure comments from the officials that weren’t very clever and didn’t inspire hilarity within me at all. Naturally, I have become inured to the effect my papers have on insects of such nature. It occurs with depressing regularity on each world I visit and has long since lost any entertainment value.

  ‘Ah, a pleasure giver!’ they say, winking roguishly.

  ‘Yes,’ I sigh. ‘That is correct. Is everything in order?’

  Why such words should be viewed as a double entendre is a mystery to me, but they are inevitably followed by sniggers and further winking. Only by refusing to become involved in any repartee do I escape without wasting my precious time. If it gives them pleasure to imply things about my private life, then they should be paying for it.

  Asher Tantine was no exception; the ritual was enacted and my silence guaranteed the return of my papers. I left the spaceport and faced the town. Having already taken the precaution of having my equipment and luggage forwarded to the Hotel Evening, I found I had a few minutes to survey my new terrain. It is considerably helpful to sniff around the environment before commencing work. All worlds are different and I’ve found it beneficial to observe local habits and customs so as not to appear completely alien to my employers. In this case, it was a Mrs. Amberny – a quaint and old-fashioned way of addressing oneself, as titles had more or less become obsolete once gender changes became so prevalent. I’ve always been just plain Tavrian Guilder, whatever my sex.

  Mrs. Amberny had sent orders that had been oblique in the extreme. It wasn’t very often that I arrived for a job completely unprepared, but the veiled and cautious nature of all communication I’d had with Mrs. Amberny meant that I had no idea what was expected of me. For the last job, I’d been required to take a skin pigment of viridian hue, which had also affected my eyes and hair. I saw no reason to change that; there’d been no special requirements from Mrs. Amberny on this score. Only once have I refused a request of this nature and that was when some fat person had asked me to put on several stone in weight. I starved for nearly a week after turning the job down, but I didn’t regret one agonising moment of it. I have my principles and though some might criticise me for being vain, I am not ashamed to admit I take great pride in my appearance. I may have mutilated other people’s bodies in my time, but it causes me untold grief if I as much as break a fingernail. Now I have a perennially youthful appearance, a body as svelte and slim as a whisker and luxurious waist-caressing hair – currently the same colour as tarnished copper but with a better shine.

  Violet Way, which I understood to be the largest town on this sparsely populated world, was an urban complex of modest size. Its industries are primarily tourism, because the planet is beautiful and unspoiled, and crystal-growing, because the planet sprouts the things like weeds. Kids in the street can scoop up handsful of pyratitanite or shellamine; on Asher Tantine such gems are two a penny. Not so upon other worlds, of course, where a single splinter of pyratitanite will sell for more than a fleet of night-cruisers with luxury trim. What a happy circumstance it would be if the traveller could pop such street-littering treasures into his pocket before taking his leave of the place. Unfortunately, this is impossible and we can thank the same technology that prolongs my youth for that. No one gets a toe out of Asher Tantine’s atmosphere in possession of a single stone. They have ways of detecting them and heavy corporations from larger worlds who have a commercial interest in Asher Tantine supply effective weaponry to act as a deterrent. I must admit it’s discreet. I never saw a single sign of surveillance the whole time I was in Violet Way.

  Walking through the brightly lit streets, past noisy casinos thronged with glittering catamites and women of the blight, I found my thoughts straying to the subject of Lenora Sabling. It had been a mistake to let her get involved with me. Why I should still be thinking about her was an enigma. Only on reflection did I realise it was a portent. She was a hairdresser; that alone should have warned me. I disliked her personality at once, but if she kept her mouth shut she looked mysterious and vampiric. We looked good together. She complemented my appearance like my hair, my jewellery, my brindled hounds. Out of those items, all I’d got away from her with was my hair. As far as I knew she was still in triumphant possession of the jewellery and hounds. Ah well, no use sighing. I’d earn more than enough from the Amberny woman to replace my lost belongings.

  I checked into the Hotel Evening, a delightful palace of subdued lighting and crystal encrustations that looked like plants. The receptionist stared at me rather rudely. Obviously, Asher Tantine was quite a provincial place on the planetary scale. I doubt whether many Pleasure Givers award the Hotel Evening their custom.

  I dialled Mrs. Amberny as soon as I was installed in my suite. The screen displayed, as usual, an inoffensive graphic design instead of the face of the person I was speaking to. Mrs. Amberny was very cagey. I recognised her breathy yet clipped tones. ‘Tavrian Guilder,’ she said. ‘How relieved I am to hear your voice. You sound so close.’

  ‘I am, Mrs. Amberny. I’m at the Hotel Evening,’ I replied.

  ‘Good, good!’ She laughed, which sounded like an exhalation of tension. What did this woman want of me? I was quite intrigued. ‘Come to my house tomorrow before lunch,’ she said. ‘The hotel should be able to provide you with transport.’

  ‘I’ll be there, Mrs. Amberny.’ I paused a moment to indicate that what followed was slightly distasteful to me. ‘Perhaps we could broach the subject of remuneration at this point?’

  Mrs. Amberny laughed nervously. ‘No need for concern, Mr. Guilder. You will be recompensed beyond your expectations if your work proves... satisfactory. Perhaps we can discuss this further, once I’ve briefed you on what will be involved.’

  ‘Very well, Mrs. Amberny. I look forward to doing business
with you.’

  ‘Yes.’ She laughed again. ‘Goodbye.’ The screen fuzzed and whined. I broke the connection.

  In sunlight, the following day, I discovered that the streets of Violet Way are not quite so glitzy as they appear at night. Crystal trees lining the pavements looked dusty and chipped and I could see that all the buildings were crusted with a grey scale of encroaching unpolished grisacite. I sat in an open-topped hovercar and the inhabitants of the town stared at my unusual colouring. Perhaps they thought I was a new strain of crystal. Anything is possible nowadays. My driver took me to the outskirts of the town, where large residences squatted amid brittle, crystal-scoured trees of gem-like hues. Beyond these manses, I could make out the shimmer of fertile crystal-fields crawling up the sides of gentle hills; above them a cloudless sky of lilac blue. The landscape of this world was beautiful, even if somehow sharp and unwelcoming. That day the air seemed full of salts and minerals that left a metallic taste on the back of the tongue; a contrast to the prior night’s balm. I presumed it not to be toxic.

  Just as I could see the gates of Mrs. Amberny’s house, Violet Way Villa, the road was blocked by a group of people holding banners, milling their way towards the town centre. I leaned forward to speak to the driver. ‘What is this nuisance? I’m expected at Mrs. Amberny’s before lunch.’

  ‘I apologise Mr. Guilder,’ the driver replied. ‘It’s the church, you see.’

  ‘Church? What do you mean church?’ I was irritated and decided not to hide it.

  ‘The New Church of Infant Jesus.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake! What are they doing?’

  ‘Singing, Mr. Guilder. They like to sing about sin.’

  ‘As do we all, driver. Is there no way we can get the car through them?’

  ‘Not without injuring them, sir, and I advise against that because the Church of the Infant Jesus has considerable voice on Violet Way Council and it might be looked on as an offence if we mow them down.’

  ‘Perhaps it might be quicker to take a detour.’

  ‘As you wish, sir.’ The car purred and rose and swung around. I caught a last glimpse of ecstatic, smiling faces in full tongue. It was not a sight conducive to a healthy appetite. There was a banner that proclaimed, ‘Denounce the spawn of Satan in our midst’. Perhaps it was a welcoming committee for me, I thought.

  So, by necessity, I arrived at the back gate to the Amberny estate. This caused confusion with the servants, who had all been looking out of the front. The car swept grandly up the rear drive. As I alighted from the vehicle, a fussing gang of white-gloved retainers swooped on me and ushered me towards window-doors that led into a sun-lounge at the rear of the house. My driver was shooed away. The gardens were splendid. Long lawns of furry verdaline threads were groomed by huge, white birds wearing collars. Fountains tinkled and plants grew in strained formation over trellises. A woman came hurrying out onto the terrace holding a tall glass clinking with ice. She was tall and skinny, wearing a spare but concealing lilac gown. ‘I’m Mrs. Amberny,’ she said, but I’d guessed that already.

  ‘Tavrian Guilder at your service,’ I said and extended my hand.

  She looked at it quizzically before taking it in her own, which was cold and damp from holding the glass. She was a mature and elegant creature, with coils of upswept red hair and exquisite make-up, but was clearly a stranger to the processes of holding age at bay. ‘Won’t you come into the house,’ she said, directing the way with a graceful hand.

  I walked beside her.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me, Mr. Guilder, but you aren’t quite as... well, you don’t look as masculine as I thought you would.’

  ‘Forgive me, Mrs. Amberny, but I don’t remember you stating any preference as to my appearance.’

  She shrugged. ‘No matter. You are male, aren’t you?’

  ‘In a universe of shifting ambience, I am as male as I can be, Mrs. Amberny. What exactly do you require of me?’ We were now in the lounge.

  ‘Do take a seat,’ she said. ‘Have you eaten? No? Splendid. Lunch will be served shortly. I hope you like Asher Tantine cuisine.’

  I made some polite remark and sat down on a low couch, brushing aside the fronds of a prodigious fern that stood on a table next to it.

  Mrs. Amberny took a stance against a high, white fireplace, where no fire burned. She leaned on the mantelpiece and lit a cigarette; an old-fashioned addiction. At her gesture, a servant flicked to my side and mumbled a list of drinks available for my consumption. I expressed my preference and he glided away.

  ‘What do I require of you?’ Mrs. Amberny took a long draw off her cigarette, squinting into the smoke she exhaled on the next breath. She spoke without taking another. ‘It is difficult for me, Mr. Guilder, because of certain... circumstances. Of course, I appreciate that in your profession you must come across many unusual requests.’

  I nodded with a smile. ‘If you are afraid of embarrassing me, don’t be.’

  She smiled back. ‘That isn’t what I’m afraid of, Mr. Guilder. What I want you to do is, well, I regret that it is against the law in Violet Way.’

  ‘Really? How intriguing. What is it?’

  She sighed and folded her arms. The servant returned with my drink on a tray. Mrs. Amberny kept one eyebrow raised until he had left the room. ‘What is it? Well, first I had better explain some of the background to the legal situation. You are aware of our Church of the Infant Jesus?’ There are few people who have the knack of speaking in italics. Mrs. Amberny was one of those privileged with the talent.

  ‘Yes. Some of its devotees were singing in the street outside. We had to take a detour.’

  Mrs. Amberny nodded. ‘Mmm. Quite. Their founder Matthew Breed came to Violet Way about a year and a half ago. He came here to Spread the Word.’ She raised her arms and rolled her eyes. ‘A cursed day, one might say.’ Then she paused suddenly, her arms drooping. ‘I hope I’m not offending you, Mr. Guilder. Do you have any religious beliefs?’

  ‘That depends on whether it’s necessary for the job or not.’

  She smiled. ‘Then I’ll continue over lunch. This way please.’

  A servant had come to hover in the doorway and preceded us to another room. It was entirely white, the dining table an astounding piece of furniture cut from a single gigantic crystal. The only colour was provided by the steaming tureens of vegetables and meat standing in the middle of the table. We sat down and the servant began to spoon helpings of the fragrant food onto our plates. Mrs. Amberny smiled appreciatively as I complimented her on the meal. In truth, I found it rather bitter.

  Mrs. Amberny took a glass of wine and twirled the stem in her hands. ‘As you no doubt realise, Asher Tantine is not a heavily populated little world and Violet Way is not a large town. We need tourists to survive.’

  ‘I would have thought the crystal farms brought in more than enough revenue,’ I said, taking a large mouthful of wine to help cope with the food.

  ‘Of course they do, but they virtually run themselves. There is no need for manual labour and the farm owners jealously guard their land. I should know; I’m one of them. Thus we have a population of people whose families have lived here for hundreds of years with very little to do. Tourism is their livelihood. We sell them crystal stock at a cheap rate (inferior quality naturally) and they produce curios for off-worlders to purchase. On top of that, we have the hotels, the wilderness package firms, the casinos, and a host of other trades that support the industry.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Mrs. Amberny. Where do I come in?’

  She tapped her wineglass with long, lacquered nails. As yet, she’d made no move to begin eating. ‘I told you this request might be unusual. You’ll have to bear with me, Mr. Guilder.’

  I made a contrite gesture. ‘I apologise for the interruption.’

  ‘Matthew Breed is a dangerous man,’ she said acidly and lit another cigarette, before taking a small forkful of food. Perhaps nicotine improved the tas
te. ‘He comes here with his talk of sin and salvation, his resurrected religion and his unbelievable, unshakeable charisma. He talks to our young folk. He infects them and fills their heads with his sanctimonious claptrap! He reviles the evils of drinking, gambling, whoring and dancing. He rants and they listen. It’s astounding. At first, he had a following that consisted only of all our subnormal degenerates. They hadn’t a hope in the world till he took an interest in them. Now he commands hundreds of our people. An army! Terrifying! The man is an absolute pest! A threat to the livelihood of Violet Way. Of course, as an elder of the town, I’ve had parents coming to me begging for help, but what can I do? The wretched man nicey-niced his way into the town council. At least a third of the councillors are enchanted by him! Now there’s talk of setting up religious retreats on Asher Tantine, of closing the casinos and clubs.’

  ‘But Mrs. Amberny,’ I just had to interrupt, ‘why haven’t you had him seen to? It’s not a Pleasure Giver you need, it’s an Annihilator.’

  Mrs. Amberny made an irritated gesture. ‘You don’t understand, Mr. Guilder. He has too many followers for that. If we had him removed tomorrow, it would only increase the zeal and determination of his devotees. Then you’d be talking about civil strife rather than a potential threat of inconvenience.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what you expect me to do. Seduce him?’

  Mrs. Amberny gave a bitter laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Guilder. I doubt that even you, with all your reputed talents, could lower the trousers of Matthew Breed. He is above reproach. Don’t think we haven’t looked into the possibility of trying to discredit him. We have. But there’s nothing. He’s left a trail of happy Christians right across the galaxy. That might be fine on other worlds, but Asher Tantine is just not big enough to take it. Violet Way certainly isn’t. Mr. Guilder, it is said that every known form of depravity is an accomplishment with you...’