Eddie asked.
Jake and Roland shook their heads. Roland had his big iron with the sandalwood grips. Jake was armed with an AR-15,
but the bag of Orizas was once more hung over his shoulder, and not just for good luck. If all went well, he and Roland would be using them soon.
FOUR
Like most men with what's known as "house-help," Pimli Prentiss had no clear sense of his employees as creatures with goals, ambitions, and feelings-as humes, in other words. As long as there was someone to bring him his afternoon glass of whiskey and set his chop (rare) in front of him at six-thirty, he didn't think of them at all. Certainly he would have been quite astounded to learn that Tammy (his housekeeper) and Tassa
(his houseboy) loathed each other. They treated each other with perfect-if chilly-respect when they were around him, after all.
Only Pimli wasn't around this morning as "'At's Amore"
(interpreted by the Billion Bland Strings) rose from Algul Siento's hidden speakers. The Master was walking up the Mall, now in the company of Jakli, a ravenhead taheen tech, as well as his Security Chief. They were discussing the Deep Telemetry, and Pimli had no thought at all for the house he had left behind for the last time. Certainly it never crossed his mind that Tammy Kelly (still in her nightgown) and Tassa of Sonesh (still in his silk sleep-shorts) were on the verge of battle about the pantry-stock.
"Look at this!" she cried. They were standing in the kitchen, which was deeply gloomy. It was a large room, and all but three of the electric lights were burned out. There were only a few bulbs left in Stores, and they were earmarked for The Study.
"Look at what?" Sulky. Pouty. And was that the remains of lip paint on his cunning little Cupid's-bow of a mouth? She thought it was.
"Do'ee not see the empty spots on the shelves?" she asked indignantly. "Look! No more baked beans-"
"He don't care beans for beans, as you very well know-"
"No tuna-fish, either, and will'ee tell me he don't eat that?
He'd eat it until it ran out his ears, and thee knows it!"
"Can you not-"
"No more soup-"
"Balls there ain't!" he cried. "Look there, and there, and th-n
"Not the Campbell's Tamater he likes best," she overrode him, drawing closer in her excitement. Their arguments had never developed into outright fisticuffs before, but Tassa had an idea this might be the day. And if it were so, it were fine-oh!
He'd love to sock this fat old run-off-at-the-mouth bitch in the eye. "Do you see any Campbell's Tamater, Tassa o' wherever-yougrew?"
"Can you not bring back a box of tins yourself?" he asked, taking his own step forward; now they were nearly nose-tonose, and although the woman was large and the young man was willowy, the Master's houseboy showed no sign of fear.
Tammy blinked, and for the first time since Tassa had shuffled into the kitchen-wanting no more than a cup of coffee, say thanks-an expression that was not irritation crossed her face.
It might have been nervousness; it might even have been fear.
"Are you so weak in die arms, Tammy of wherever-^ow-grew, that you can't carry a box of soup-tins out of Stores?"
She drew herself up to her full height, stung. Her jowls
(greasy and a-glow with some sort of night-cream) quivered with self-righteousness. "Fetching pantry supplies has ever been the houseboy'sjob! And thee knows it very well!"
"That don't make it a law that you can't help out. I was mowing his lawn yest'y, as surely you know; I spied you sitting a-kitchen with a glass of cold tea, didn't I, just as comfortable as old Ellie in your favorite chair."
She bristled, losing any fear she might have had in her outrage. "I have as much right to rest as anyone else! I'd just warshed the floor-"
"Looked to me like Dobbie was doing it," he said. Dobbie was the sort of domestic robot known as a "house-elf," old but still quite efficient.
Tammy grew hotter still. "What would you know about house chores, you mincy little queer?"
Color flushed Tassa's normally pale cheeks. He was aware that his hands had rolled themselves into fists, but only because he could feel his carefully cared-for nails biting into his palms.
It occurred to him that this sort of petty bitch-and-whistle was downright ludicrous, coming as it did with the end of everything stretching blackjust beyond them; they were two fools sparring and catcalling on the very lip of the abyss, but he didn't care. Fat