Star quest

of lungs.
    "One thousand and twenty-five," Tohm said, shivering in expectation of defeat.
    M. Glavoirei frowned, spat on the ground. "I have only a thousand bills with me. I will write a voucher—"
    "No!" Tohm found himself shouting. "This is illegal. No checks or credit cards. The terms are cash."
    "He is right, M. Glavoirei," Rashinghi said.
    "Then permit me to call for more funds. They will arrive within the hour."
    "He must have my permission to delay the auction," Tohm said, remembering what he had learned from Triggy Gop's books. "I deny him that permission."
    "Then," Rashinghi said, turning to Tohm, "she is most certainly yours."
    The rich man's friends set up a howl of protest. Rashinghi waved them to silence. "It is only fair. Peasant, I will have her bathed and anointed to join ye at the fountain." He turned and clapped for the entrance of the next item on the agenda.
    Tohm scanned the crowd for the head of Tamilee. He had won the fight to speak with her. His mind was full of questions.
    "One thousand and twenty-five bills, dear sir," she said from beside him.
    He looked down quickly. "Tamilee!"
    Her mouth opened slowly. "How do you know my name?"
    "I am Tohm."
    "Tohm who?" she asked, suddenly impatient.
    "Your Tohm. Your man."
    She looked back at him, her eyes wide. "You are not Tohm. Tohm is dark. You are fair."
    "That's true. But I am Tohm. I was killed after the Romaghins kidnapped us—rather, my body was killed. But they saved my mind, and I have a new body now."
    "You speak nonsense. One thousand and twenty-five bills, please."
    He took he by the shoulder. "Look, Tarnilee, I—" Take your hands off me, please, dear sir." hesitantly, he removed his hand. "Look, I can prove it. Do you remember the red-leafed trees, the one above our hut. We lived and loved on a grass mat which you always said was filled with patterns that resembled people, faces. We were to be married in a month."
    She looked at him a moment "That I said, and that we were. Where did you learn all of this?"
    "I am Tohm!"
    The bidding was getting heated on the latest girl. Numbers were called out to cheering on both sides while Rashinghi urged them higher and higher. Tohm talked louder. "Do you remember the sea and how it talked? I used to listen to the sea, converse with it while we sat on the beach. You said I was insane but that you loved me anyway."
    She twisted the money bag anxiously in her small hands. "So what. So what… what if you are Tohm?"
    "So what? You can come with me. That's so what I've crossed Hell a dozen times getting here."
    There was a sudden gleam in her eye, and her voice changed subtly. "But how are you sure I am Tarnilee?" go
    "But you just said—"
    "My name is now Rashinghiana."
    "You have assumed the feminized version of Rashinghi?"
    "My name is Rashinghiana."
    He felt himself swaying. "Tarnilee, you're not married to that… to that-"
    "My name is not Tamilee," she said firmly.
    "But why him?"
    "He is good to me."
    "I was better."
    She frowned. "You never showed me the wonders of the universe, the foods, the wines, the places and the things."
    He sighed, wiped perspiration from his upper lip. "Look, Tarnilee. I just discovered these things myself. I never knew of them.
    "My name is not Tarnilee. Besides, if it were, and you were Tohm, you are nothing but a peasant. You could not fill the desires these new things have raised in me; you could not feed the hungers."
    His mind was aching with the new order, the clearer understanding of human nature that was suddenly being thrust upon him. This was an old scene—thousands of years old, but he did not know that. The sun seemed like a huge candle whose melting wax was dropping upon everything, hazing over the buildings and the people, seeping through his ears and encasing his brain. He clutched her arm, dug his nails in. "Look, Tarni— okay, Rashinghiana. In a few days, you're going to be stuck with a smaller, different universe. I don't understand how, but I know the Muties are going to—"
    "Muties?" she said. "You associate with them? You're a pervert?"
    He dug his nails deeper, hoping that, beneath the toga, blood was seeping. "Listen—"
    "Help!" she shouted. "A pervert. Mutie-lover!"
    The crowd turned. Several rich bidders surged toward him. Clutching her even tighter, he brought the gas pistol into his free hand. M. Glavoirei was the first to go down, his leg a shattered hunk of meat worse than anything one might see in the open-air meat