When the golden Felirene sprawled on the fabulous rug twitched its plumed tail and narrowed its lambent eyes to slits of emerald fire, Fermin, the Arch-Mutant did not move. He did not raise his head.
The silver-grey eyes remained fixed, the slightly narrow skull immobile; outwardly, he seemed absorbed in the photo-plastic record. But the long, fragile finger of his hand pressed one of the gems that studded the milky whiteness of the Jadite chair on which he sat. Imperceptibly the jewel depressed. In the open hearth before him, a burning log of aromatic wood crackled and sent up a shower of sparks like shooting stars against the blue glory of the aquamarine glass columns that flanked it.
"The slightest movement means death!" Fermin said softly, in a voice that was calm and poised and unhurried. "Even a spoken word might set it off." In the brooding silence, the subdued hissing of the flames could be heard.
"You see, intruder, you're standing in a radio beam that controls a Neuro-flash. The slightest movement disturbs the beam, which in turn releases the "flash." A most deplorable accident...." His voice trailed into a melodious undertone faintly etched with laughter. Then he rose and flung back the folds of his jewelled scarlet robe, bright as fresh blood, with a gesture of fastidious elegance.
"Come, Sappho ... let us welcome our guest!" he bade the now crouching, six-foot-long beast whose formidable claws were bared. "This is a memorable occurrence!" He moved with an effortless surety remarkable in its economy of movement; there was something oddly regal and imperturbable in his stride. Beside him, Sappho, the feral creature, paced with a fluid motion almost like flight, its golden fur gleaming with firelight reflections.
Across an invisible, if lethal barrier they met.
Fermin gazed into the inscrutable eyes, blue-grey and silvered, almost like his own. He appraised the astonishing shoulders of the man, the golden hair with the unmistakable rising tide of silver. Noted the absence of weapons except for the usual power-rapier. "What a magnificent addition to our cause," he meditated. Unhurriedly Fermin retraced his steps to the chair, and depressed another flashing gem that shut off the radio-beam, then came back to the silent man. "How," he inquired in a voice like ice, "did you get in here?" Inwardly Fermin was torn between the desire to let Sappho display her peculiar talents, and that of adding yet another valuable recruit to the cause. He smiled slowly as if reading the intruder's thoughts: "It is safe to speak now," he pointed out. "I've shut off the power."
"My entrance is but a detail," Julian answered. His eyes traveled slowly, noting the shock of translucent hair, the silver eyes, then paused briefly at the power-rapier hanging from Fermin's belt. For a second he had an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh at the ghastly irony of it. After waiting for hours in the secret passage, he had to blunder headlong into the presence of the one being in all Ganymede he would have avoided at all costs!
"I sought sanctuary and there was the Temple-nave. It's inviolate, isn't it?" (The point was, should he brazen it out or fight.)
"Of course!"