When he was gone I turned immediately to Jor—constrained to assure her of my surprise. I had expected that Master Gatsu-be would be a reserved and robust person in his middle years.

"Who is he?" I demanded. "Do you know?"

"He's just a warrior named Gatsu-be."

"Where is he from, I mean? And what does he do?"

"Now you're started on the subject," she answered with a wan smile. "Well,—he told me once he was a sage’s disciple."

A dim background started to take shape behind him but at her next remark it faded away.

"However, I don't believe it."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," she insisted, "I just don't think he studied that way."

Something in her tone reminded me of the other girl's "I think he killed a Demon Lord," and had the effect of stimulating my curiosity. I would have accepted without question the information that Gatsu-be sprang from the swamps of the unclaimed lands or from the lower East Side of New Citadel. That was comprehensible. But young men didn't—at least in my provincial inexperience I believed they didn't—drift coolly out of nowhere and buy a palace on The Island Sound.

"Anyhow he gives large slaying parties," said Jor, changing the subject with an urbane distaste for the concrete. "And I like the large parties. They're so much better for cultivation. At small parties there isn't enough ether to spread around."

There was the boom of a cannon, and the voice of the adventuring party leader rang out suddenly above the echolalia of the garden.

"Warriors of all types and skills," he cried. "At the request of Master Gatsu-be we are going to release for you Master Vlad Tostoff's latest monster simulacrum which attracted so much attention at The Hall of Carnage last spring. If you heard the reviews you know there was a big sensation." He smiled with jovial condescension and added "Some sensation!" whereupon everybody laughed.

"The creature is known," he concluded lustily, "as 'Vlad Tostoff's Monster Simulacrum of the World.' "

The nature of Master Tostoff's creation eluded me, because just as it appeared my eyes fell on Gatsu-be, standing alone on the marble steps and looking from one group to another with ascertaining eyes. His tanned skin was drawn attractively tight on his face and his short hair looked as though it were trimmed every day. I could see nothing sinister about him. I wondered if the fact that he was not cultivating helped to set him off from his guests, for it seemed to me that he grew more correct as the fraternal collaboration increased. When the "Monster Simulacrum of the World" was defeated iron cores were putting their heads on each other’s shoulders in an exhausted, supporting way, rogues were flowing backward swiftly into shadow's embrace, even powerful groups braced each other in fatigue—but no one braced in fatigue on Gatsu-be and no helmed head touched Gatsu-be's shoulder and no martial quartets were formed with Gatsu-be's head for one bout.

"I beg your pardon."

Gatsu-be's butler was suddenly standing beside us.

"Miss Pan-ya?" he inquired. "I beg your pardon but Mr. Gatsu-be would like to speak to you alone."

"With me?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, madame."

She got up slowly, raising her eyebrows at me in astonishment, and followed the butler toward the house. I noticed that she wore her battle dress, all her clothes, like front-liners—there was a utility about her movements as if she had first learned to walk into coliseum matches on dry, blistering afternoons.

I was alone and it was almost two hours past the haunting hour. For some time confused and intriguing sounds had issued from a long many-windowed room which overhung the terrace. Eluding Jor's underling who was now engaged in an obstetrical conversation with two healer girls, and who implored me to join him, I went inside.

The large room was full of people. One of the girls in yellow armor was twirling her sword and beside her stood a tall, red haired young lady from a famous dojo, engaged in stylized kata. She had overloaded on a quantity of elixir and during the course of her kata she had decided ineptly that it needed to be very very slow—she was not just moving, she was shaking with strain too. Whenever there was a pause in the kata she filled it with shaking weakened stumble and then took up the movement again in a quavering larghissimo. The pain contoured around her countenance—not freely, however, for when it came into contact with her heavily focused eyes they assumed an inky color, and pursued the rest of their way in slow black rivulets. A cogent realization was made that she showed the signs of possession on her face whereupon she threw up her hands, a shadowy cloud burst from her mouth and eyes, then she sank into a chair and went off into a deep vinous sleep.

"She must have been possessed when she had a fight with a man who says he's her husband," explained a girl at my elbow.

The room was saturated within moments as the spray fountained from the women then fell quickly to the ground to spread. The particles of darkness flowed through the room with abandon. Some who noticed tried to move out of the way but others in the area blocked their path. Many failed to notice what happened and like a rampaging flood the shadows broke upon their legs. The shadows began to infect the people who were touched with a dark pallor of despair and hate.

I looked around. Most of the remaining women were now having fights with men said to be their husbands. Even Jor's party, the quartet from East Egg, were rent asunder by dissension. One of the men was quarreling with curious intensity to a young rogue, and his wife after attempting to parry both sides attacks in a calm and equal way broke down entirely and resorted to flank attacks—at intervals she appeared suddenly at his side like an angry diamond, and slashed her sword at his ear.

It was Gatsu-be’s butler who solved the issue. As the fighting grew louder and more violent, he seemed to appear from nowhere. His hands and arms where moving in intricate patterns and his mouth was uttering an incantation before I even noticed him. He finished his spell and knelt to slam his palm to the ground violently. Particles of indigo and emerald rippled from the point of impact. As it clashed with the bits of shadow it grew brighter and consumed the demonic energies. It splashed against legs just as the shadows had and removed the taint even quicker then it spread.

“Lords and ladies,” He announced blandly. “This evening events have concluded. Master Gatsu-be thanks you for your presence.” He bowed deeply at the waist with his arm held aloft toward the exit as the attendee’s groaned in displeasure and slowly made their way to the exit.

The reluctance to go home was not confined to wayward men. The hall was at present occupied by two deplorably weak men and their highly trained wives. The wives were sympathizing with each other in slightly raised voices.

"Whenever he thinks my chi is at the limit he wants to go home."

"Never heard anything so selfish in my life."

"We're always the first ones to leave."

"So are we."

"Well, we're almost the last tonight," said one of the men sheepishly. "The adventurers left half an hour ago."

In spite of the wives' agreement that such malevolence was beyond credibility, the dispute ended in a short struggle, and both wives were left bickering into the night.

As I waited for my cloak in the hall the door of the library opened and Pan-ya Jor and Gatsu-be came out together. He was saying some last word to her but the eagerness in his manner tightened abruptly into formality as several people approached him to say goodbye.

Jor's party were calling impatiently to her from the porch but she lingered for a moment to shake hands.

"I've just heard the most amazing thing," she whispered. "How long were we in there?"

"Why,—about an hour."

"It was—simply amazing," she repeated abstractedly. "But I swore I wouldn't tell it and here I am tantalizing you." She yawned gracefully in my face. "Please come and see me. . . . City directory. . . . Under the name of Mistress Sig Hugihard. . . . My aunt. . . ." She was hurrying off as she talked—her brown hand waved a jaunty salute as she melted into her party at the door.

Rather ashamed that on my first appearance I had stayed so late, I joined the last of Gatsu-be's guests who were clustered around him. I wanted to explain that I'd hunted for him early in the evening and to apologize for not having known him in the garden.

"Don't mention it," he enjoined me eagerly. "Don't give it another thought, old sport." The familiar expression held no more familiarity than the hand which reassuringly brushed my shoulder. "And don't forget we're going hydro-jumping tomorrow morning."

Then the butler, behind his shoulder:

"Delphos City wants you on the phone, sir."

"All right, in a minute. Tell them I'll be right there. . . . good night."

"Good night."

"Good night." He smiled—and suddenly there seemed to be a pleasant significance in having been among the last to go, as if he had desired it all the time. "Good night, old sport. . . . Good night."