Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet by Mike Resnick Page A

starting to worry about you.”
    “There were a number of new exhibits,” explained Gold. “They've even added a pair of tigers from Earth itself.” He watched with a weary smile as his grandson began enthusiastically reciting all the wonders he had seen.
    Christina listened to her child for a moment while Gold put his feet up on a hassock, then sent the boy off to wash his hands and change his clothes.
    “He seems to have had a good time,” she said when he had left the room.
    “We both did,” replied Gold. “The zoo is a wonderful place to take children.”
    “I always suspected it might be,” she replied with a smile.
    Gold sighed. “I know. I wish I had had more time to spend with you and your brother when you were growing up, but I felt called upon to do the Lord's work.”
    “You still do.”
    He nodded. “But age and gravity catch up with all of us sooner or later. I've slowed down.”
    “I wonder if the Vainmill people think so,” she said with an amused smile.
    “They're the enemy,” he replied. “They get my adrenaline flowing. I'm like an athlete who's nearing the end of his career: I can get up for the big games, but I coast too much of the time.” He paused, an ironic expression on his face. “Still, even coasting can find some favor in the eyes of the Lord. More than halfway through my life I've discovered the joy of being a grandfather.”
    Christina laughed aloud and shifted her position on the well-worn sofa. “I'd say you're coasting about as much as that Seattle horse did last week.”
    “What do you know about that?” asked Gold, surprised.
    “The holos of the race were broadcast on all the networks,” she answered. “I gather that it was the sporting highlight of the month, except for a couple of prizefights.”
    “Even out in the Albion Cluster?”
    She nodded. “We're not quite the uninformed rustics that my brother seems to think we are.”
    “Did they show the trophy presentation?” asked Gold.
    Christina nodded. “In all its glory.” She paused. “Fiona Bradley doesn't look all that formidable.”
    “She won't be after this Friday,” predicted Gold confidently.
    “The madam looks like an interesting lady, though,” she continued in a bantering tone.
    “She isn't. She's just a businesswoman who doesn't seem to realize that she's working for Satan.”
    “Anyway, it was an exciting race. I think I could become a fan.” She smiled mischievously. “Simon tells me that you won a bet on it. He sounded very disapproving.”
    “Your brother talks too much,” said Gold. “It was done to put a rather nasty man in his place, and I've apologized to God for it.” Gold grimaced. “But sometimes Simon is a little less forgiving than the Lord.”
    “Only sometimes?” she said sardonically. “He must be improving.”
    Gold chuckled. “What can I say? I wanted a godly son to carry on my work. I got one.”
    She shook her head. “ You're godly. Simon's just a pompous ass.”
    “You're wrong,” said Gold, suddenly serious. “He's a better Christian than I am. If I seemed critical of him, it's the sin of envy; I compare myself with him and wish I had his dedication.”
    “Well, I compare him with you, and wish he had your humanity,” responded his daughter earnestly.
    “If Fiona Bradley could hear you say that, she'd probably put a hit out on him.”
    “Vainmill doesn't actually hire assassins, does it?”
    “Vainmill does whatever Vainmill thinks is necessary, whether it's eradicating entire alien civilizations or bribing government officials or rigging elections.”
    He noticed her sudden concern. “There's no need to worry,” he said reassuringly. “Your brother is one of our best-kept secrets; I doubt that Vainmill even knows he exists.”
    “I wasn't worried about Simon.”
    “Don't worry about me, either,” said Gold. “I don't plan to die while I have so much of the Lord's work left to do—and if God should happen to decree my death, I guarantee