Julian's eyes were inscrutable. He had not been asked what effect was to be achieved, or indeed how he wished to be changed. True, nothing of an organic nature had been attempted. But he was not used to this.
The Ganymedean designer, whatever it was, was a great artist. Great enough to take liberties, or else possessed of the effrontery of genius. But then, Julian meditated, Ganymedeans were like that. There were times when one didn't know whether to slay them or leave them. Then it occurred to Julian that perhaps the instructions of the Dekka had been specific. But dismissed the thought with a wry smile. Even the Dekka's instructions as to the actual disguise would have been quietly ignored by this creature. It was a work of art, and in that realm, Ganymedeans listened to no one. But his meditation was cut short by the gestures of the artist, which clearly indicated that Julian tilt his head. In his hands he held a tiny bottle, and something like an eye-dropper.
"I said nothing organic!" Julian reminded him coldly.
"A tint, nothing more," the Ganymedean spoke for the first time in soft, slurred accents. "It will only last a few days, then disappear. And, without it, the work is incomplete." Julian submitted reluctantly.
The artist was at last finished. One graceful hand motioned toward a huge moon of a mirror suspended by anti-gravitic means, and Julian turned curiously to see what the creature had transformed him into.
His astounded gasp was audible in the silent alcove. For he saw a tall, disdainful Martian whose violet eyes looked coldly out a face he couldn't recognize as his own; a mane of ruddy, curling ringlets fell to the neck-line, while thin, cruel lips curving slightly expressed unutterable boredom. For the rest, his body was sheathed in palest silver-green, of a texture like human epidermis—satiny, rippling with his every movement, while a great belt of Panagrans circled his narrow waist.
The Ganymedean held up an expressive finger, then flew to a drawer hidden beneath the folds of the costumes. He extracted something and came swiftly back. Julian felt a sharp pain in his left ear-lobe, then the icy sensation of a cauterizer stanching the capillary flow, and something was fastened to his ear. When he gazed into the reflecting moon, he saw a huge, solitary Starliman swirling green fire from his left ear-lobe. The picture of a ruthless, interplanetary fop was superbly complete. Only a Neuro-Graph machine could possibly have revealed his identity now.
Julian went over to where his former garments lay on the floor, and fastened his Power-rapier to the jeweled belt, then extracted the vial he had taken from Fermin, taking care that the designer didn't see it, and secreted it on his person. When he straightened up again, the Ganymedean was holding a cloak of rich ocelandian fur which Julian threw about his shoulders. The artist gazed at him for a brief instant, with something like a smile in its brilliant eyes—all that could be seen of his masked face. Then as silently as he had come, he literally walked into a section of the panelling which gave way before him and disappeared in the endless labyrinth that was the Paradisiac. The door of the circular room opened soundlessly. Julian's hand flew to the electro-beam under his arm-pit, but no one came. It was a mute invitation to depart.
The long corridor led him to the balcony overhanging the Public Rooms. Below him was a hall so vast, built on a scale so great, that it imparted a feeling of limitless distances, yet he knew this was an illusion. To his right, a crysto-plast conveyor spiralled down in a swirl of imprisoned waters, foaming like a rushing stream, while at the bottom, freed by the deliberately lessened gravity, the worst and best from all the inhabited worlds sat at individual platforms or revolved lazily in the upper levels. The enchantment of fantastic harmonies wove a subtle spell of desire and nameless longings. But although he felt the magic of the extravagantly honeyed chords, Julian reminded himself that was not there to propitiate the eternal caprice of the flesh.