et, and stay out
of sight, and you can live like a County Duke. Food's the hardest, but
here--"

The red-cheeked girl reappeared, a tray balanced on one arm, a heavy cup
and saucer in the other hand. She clattered them down on the table.

"Took you long enough," the red-head said. The girl sniffed, opened her
mouth to speak--and the red-head darted out a stiff finger, jabbed her
under the ribs. She stood, mouth open, frozen.

Brett half rose. "He's crazy, miss," he said. "Please accept--"

"Don't waste your breath." Brett's host was looking at him triumphantly.
"Why do I call it 'it'?" He stood up, reached out and undid the top
buttons of the green uniform. The waitress stood, leaning slightly
forward, unmoving. The blouse fell open, exposing round white
breasts--unadorned, blind.

"A doll," said the red-head. "A puppet; a golem."

* * *

Brett stared at her, the damp curls at her temple, the tip of her tongue
behind her teeth, the tiny red veins in her round cheeks, and the white
skin curving ...

"That's a quick way to tell 'em," said the red-head. "The teat is
smooth." He rebuttoned the uniform, then jabbed again at the girl's
ribs. She straightened, patted her hair.

"No doubt a gentleman like you is used to better," she said carelessly.
She went away.

"I'm Awalawon Dhuva," the red-head said.

"My name's Brett Hale." Brett took a bite of the sandwich.

"Those clothes," Dhuva said. "And you have a strange way of talking.
What county are you from?"

"Jefferson."

"Never heard of it. I'm from Wavly. What brought you here?"

"I was on a train. The tracks came to an end out in the middle of
nowhere. I walked ... and here I am. What is this place?"

"Don't know." Dhuva shook his head. "I knew they were lying about the
Fire River, though. Never did believe all that stuff. Religious hokum,
to keep the masses quiet. Don't know what to believe now. Take the roof.
They say a hundred kharfads up; but how do we know? Maybe it's a
thousand--or only ten. By Grat, I'd like to go up in a balloon, see for
myself."

"What are you talking about?" Brett said. "Go where in a balloon? See
what?"

"Oh, I've seen one at the Tourney. Big hot-air bag, with a basket under
it. Tied down with a rope. But if you cut the rope...! But you can bet
the priests will never let that happen, no, sir." Dhuva looked at Brett
speculatively. "What about your county: Fession, or whatever you called
it. How high do