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//-->The Dancers at the End of Time Book 5A Messiah at the End of TimeorThe Transformation of Miss Mavis MingByMichael MoorcockKindle me to constant fire,Lest the nail be but a nail!Give me wings of great desire,Lest I look within and fail!… Red of heat to white of heat,Roll we to the Godhead's feet!Beat, beat! white of heat,Red of heat, beat, beat!— George MeredithThe Song of TheodolindaBOOKS BY MICHAEL MOORCOCKTHE DRAGON IN THE SWORDTHE ETERNAL CHAMPIONTHE SILVER WARRIORSTHE ICE SCHOONERThe Elric SagaELRIC OF MELNIBONÉTHE SAILOR ON THE SEAS OF FATETHE WEIRD OF THE WHITE WOLFTHE VANISHING TOWERTHE BANE OF THE BLACK SWORDSTORMBRINGERThe Chronicles of Castle BrassCOUNT BRASSTHE CHAMPION OF GARATHORMTHE QUEST FOR TANELORNThe Books of CorumTHE KNIGHT OF THE SWORDSTHE QUEEN OF THE SWORDSTHE KING OF THE SWORDSTHE BULL AND THE SPEARTHE OAK AND THE RAMTHE SWORD AND THE STALLIONThe Dancers at the End of TimeAN ALIEN HEATTHE HOLLOW LANDSTHE END OF ALL SONGSLEGENDS FROM THE END OF TIMEA MESSIAH AT THE END OF TIMEFROM ACE HARDCOVERTHE CITY IN THE AUTUMN STARSACE BOOKS, NEW YORKA little something for Alfie BesterYou can join the Michael Moorcock fan club! Write to:Nomads of the Time Streams:TheInternational Michael Moorcock Appreciation Society, P.O. Box 451048, Atlanta, GA 30345-1048.British edition published under the title ofThe Transformation of Miss Mavis Ming.This Ace Book contains the complete text of the original edition.A MESSIAH AT THE END OF TIMEAn Ace Book / published by arrangement with the authorPRINTING HISTORYBritish edition published 1977DAW edition / February 1978Ace edition / January 1989All rights reserved.Copyright © 1977 by Michael Moorcock.Cover art by Robert Gould.This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, withoutpermission.For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, NewYork 10016.ISBN: 0-441-13664-8Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York,New York 10016.The name "ACE" and the "A" logo are trademarks belonging to Charter Communications, Inc.PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA1In which your Auditor gives credit to his SourcesThe incidents involving Mr Jherek Carnelian and Mrs Amelia Underwood, their adventures in Time,the machinations of, among others, the Lord of Canaria, are already familiar to those of us who followavidly any fragment of gossip coming back from the End of Time.We know, too, why it is impossible to learn further details of how life progresses there since theinception of Lord Jagged's grand (and some think pointless) scheme, details of which have beenpublished in the three volumes jointly entitledThe Dancers at the End of Timeand in the single volume,companion to this, calledLegends from the End of Time.Time travellers, of course, still visit the periods immediately preceding the inception of the scheme.They bring us back those scraps of scandal, speculation, probable fact and likely lies which form thebases for the admittedly fanciful reconstructions I choose to term my "legends from the future" — storieswhich doubtless would cause much amusement if those I write about were ever to read them (happily,there is no evidence that the tales survive our present century, let alone the next few million years).If this particular tale seems more outrageous and less likely than any of the others, it is because Iwas gullible enough to believe the sketch of it I had from an acquaintance who does not normally journeyso far into the future. A colleague of Mrs Una Persson in the Guild of Temporal Adventurers, he does notwish me to reveal his name and this, happily, allows me to be rather more frank about him than wouldhave been possible.My friend's stories are always interesting, but they are consistently highly coloured; his exploits havebeen bizarre and his claims incredible. If he is to be believed, he has been present at a good many of thebest-known key events in history, including the crucifixion of Christ, the massacre at My Lai, theassassination of Naomi Jacobsen in Paris and so on, and has often played a major rôle.From his base in West London (20th century, Sectors 3 and 4) my friend has ranged what he termsthe "chronoflow", visiting periods of the past and future of this Earth as well as those of other Earthswhich, he would have us accept, co-exist with ours in a complex system of intersecting dimensionsmaking up something called the "multiverse".Of all the temporal adventurers I have known, my friend is the most ready to describe his exploits toanyone who will listen. Presumably, he is not subject to the Morphail Effect (which causes most travellersto exercise the greatest caution regarding their actions and conversations in any of the periods they visit)mainly because few but the simple-minded, and those whose logical faculties have been ruined by drink,drugs or other forms of dissipation, will take him seriously.My friend's own explanation is that he is not affected by such details; he describes himself ratherwildly as a "chronic outlaw" (a self-view which might give the reader some insight into his character). Youmight think he charmed me into believing the tale he told me of Miss Mavis Ming and Mr EmmanuelBloom, and yet there is something about the essence of the story that inclined me to believe it — for allthat it is, in many ways, one of the most incredible I have heard. It cannot, of course, be verified readily(certainly so far as the final chapters are concerned) but it is supported by other rumours I have heard, aswell as my own previous knowledge of Mr Bloom (whose earlier incarnation appeared in a tale, told tome by one of my friend's fellow Guild members, published variously asThe FireclownandThe Windsof Limbo,some years ago).The events recorded here follow directly upon those recorded inLegends from the End of Timeand in effect take up Miss Ming's story where we left it after her encounter with Dafnish Armatuce andher son Snuffles.As usual, the basic events described are as I had them from my source. I have re-arranged certainthings, to maintain narrative tensions, and added to an earlier, less complete, draft of my own which waswritten hastily, before all the information was known to me. The "fleshing-out" of the narrative, theinterpretations where they occur, many of the details of conversations, and so on, must be blamedentirely on your auditor.In the previous volume to this one I have already recounted something of the peculiar relationshipexisting between Miss Ming and Doctor Volospion: the unbearable bore and that ostentatiousmisanthrope.Why Doctor Volospion continued to take perverse pleasure in the woman's miserable company,why she allowed him to insult her in the most profound of ways — she who spent the greater part of herdays avoiding any sort of pain — we cannot tell. Suffice it to say that relationships of this sort exist in ourown society and can be equally puzzling.Perhaps Doctor Volospion found confirmation of all his misanthropism in her; perhaps she preferredthis intense, if unpleasant, attention to no attention at all. She confirmed his view of life, while heconfirmed her very existence.But it is the purpose of a novel, not a romance, to speculate in this way and it is no part of myintention to dwell too much upon such thoughts.Here, then, for the reader's own interpretation (if one is needed), is the tale of Miss Ming'stransformation and the part which both Doctor Volospion and Emmanuel Bloom had in it.MICHAEL MOORCOCKLadbroke Grove,November, 19752In which Miss Mavis Ming experiences a familiar DiscomfortThe peculiar effect of one sun rising just as another set, causing shadows to waver, making objectsappear to shift shape and position, went more or less entirely unobserved by the great crowd of peoplewho stood, enjoying a party, in the foothills of a rather poorly finished range of mountains erected somelittle time ago by Werther de Goethe during one of his periodic phases of attempting to re-create thelandscape, faithful to the last detail, of Holman Hunt, an ancient painter Werther had discovered in one ofthe rotting cities.Werther, it is fair to say, had not been the first to make such an attempt. Werther, however, held tothe creed that an artist should, so far as his powers allowed, put up everything exactly as he saw it in thepainting. Werther was a purist. Werther volubly denied the criticisms of those who found such literalwork bereft of what they regarded as true artistic inspiration. Werther's theories of Fidelity to Art hadenjoyed a short-lived vogue (for a time the Duke of Queens had been an earnest acolyte) but his fellowshad soon tired of such narrow disciplines.Werther, alone, refused to renounce them.As the party progressed one of the suns eventually vanished while the other rose rapidly, reachedzenith, and stopped. The light became golden, autumnal, misty. Of the guests but three had paused toobserve the phenomenon: they were Miss Mavis Ming, plump and eager in her new dress; Li Pao, blandin puritanical denim; and Abu Thaleb, their host, svelte and opulent, splendidly overdressed."Whose suns?" murmured Abu Thaleb appreciatively. "How pretty. And subtle. Rivals, perhaps…""To your own creations?" asked Li Pao."No, no — to one another.""They could be Werther's," suggested Miss Ming, anxious to return to their interrupted topic. "Hehasn't arrived yet. Go on, Li Pao. You were saying something about Doctor Volospion."A fingered ear betrayed Li Pao's embarrassment. "I spoke of no-one specifically, Miss Ming." Hisround Chinese face became expressionless."By association," Abu Thaleb prompted, a somewhat sly smile manifesting itself within his pointedbeard, "you spoke of Volospion.""Ah! You would make a gossip of me. I disdain such impulses. I merely observed that only theweak hate weakness; only the wounded condemn the pain of others." He wiped a stain of juice from hissevere blouse and turned his back on the tiny sun.Miss Ming was arch. "But youmeantDoctor Volospion, Li Pao. You weresuggesting…"A tide of guests flowed by, its noise drowning what remained of her remark, and when it hadpassed, Li Pao (perhaps piqued by an element of truth) chose to show impatience. "I do not share yourobsession with your protector, Miss Ming. I generalized. The thought can scarcely be considered aspecific one, nor an original one. I regret it. If you prefer, I retract it.""I wasn'tcriticising,Li Pao. I was justinterestedin how you saw him. I mean, he has been verykindto me, and I wouldn't like anybody to think I wasn't aware of all he'sdonefor me. I could still be inhis menagerie couldn't I? But he showed his respect for me by letting me go — that is, asking me to behisguestrather than — well, whatever you'd call it.""He is a model of chivalry." Abu Thaleb stroked an eyebrow and hid his face with his hand. "Well, ifyou will excuse me, I must see to my monsters. To my guests." He departed, to be swallowed by hisparty, while Li Pao's imploring look went unnoticed.Miss Ming smoothed the front of Li Pao's blouse. "So you see," she said, "I was only curious. Itcertainly wasn't gossip I wanted to hear. But I respect your opinions, Li Pao. We are fellow 'prisoners',after all, in this world. Both of us would probably prefer to be back in the past, where we belong — youin the 27th century, to take your rightful position as chairman or whatever of China, and me in the 21st to,to…" Inspiration left her momentarily. She contented herself with a coy wink. "You mustn't pay anyattention to little Mavis. There's no malice in her.""Aha." Li Pao closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.Miss Ming's sky-blue nail traced patterns on the more restrained blue of his chest. "It's not inMavis's nature to think naughty thoughts. Well, not that sort of naughty thought, at any rate!" She giggled."Yaha?" It was almost inaudible.From somewhere overhead came the distant strains of one of Abu Thaleb's beasts. Li Pao raisedhis head as if to seek the source. He contemplated heaven.Miss Ming, too, looked up. "Nothing," she said. "It must have come from over there." She pointedand, to her chagrin, her finger indicated the approaching figure of Ron Ron Ron who was, like herself andLi Pao, an expatriate (although in his case from the 140th century). "Oh, look out, Li Pao. It's that boreRon coming over…"She was surprised when Li Pao expressed enthusiastic delight. "My old friend!"She was sure that Li Pao found Ron Ron Ron just as awful as everyone else did but, for his sake,she smiled as sweetly as she could. "Howniceto see you!"Ron Ron Ron had an expression ofhauteuron his perfectly oval face. This was his usualexpression. He, too, seemed just a little surprised by Li Pao's effusion. "Um?"The two men contemplated one another. Mavis plainly felt that it was up to her to break the ice. 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