Prophet by Mike Resnick Page A

restaurant when the Iceman returned to the spaceport.
    "Everything go okay?” asked the Iceman.
    "I'm a little bit sore,” replied the Kid. “He used a local anesthetic, and it's starting to wear off."
    "Small price to pay to be the fastest gun in the galaxy,” said the Iceman wryly. “Now if you were only the most accurate gun as well..."
    "I'm working on it,” the Kid assured him.
    "It'll take a lot of practice."
    "Practice is for losers. I'll do it with chips.” Suddenly he grinned. “I'm the Silicon Kid, remember?"
    "I'll try not to forget again,” said the Iceman sardonically.
    "How was your day?” asked the Kid after a momentary silence.
    "Not good,” said the Iceman, frowning. “Not good at all."
    "Oh?"
    "There's no sense standing here talking,” said the Iceman. “Let's get some dinner, and then we'll take off."
    He summoned the maitre d' , who led them past a multi-colored fountain in the middle of the floor and escorted them to a secluded table toward the back of the restaurant.
    The Kid immediately picked up a menu and studied it. “Everything seems imported,” he noted. “You'd think a temperate world like this could grow its own food."
    "That's not what this world was created for,” replied the Iceman.
    "But it's so expensive to do it this way."
    "If you live on Sweetwater, you don't worry about prices."
    "I suppose you're right,” said the Kid, surveying his surroundings and toying with his crystalline wine and water glasses. “It's a pretty nice place."
    "I've seen worse,” said the Iceman. “See those shellfish in that tank?” he added, pointing to a saltwater tank that was discreetly place against a wall.
    "Yeah?"
    "Those are mutated shellfish,” said the Iceman. “They come from the Pinnipes system.” He paused. “I can't pronounce their name, but they're supposed to be the best-tasting seafood in the galaxy."
    "I've never been a seafood fan."
    "Well, take my word for it,” said the Iceman. He looked across the room. “And those are real Hesporite paintings on the wall, not fakes,” he continued.
    "How can you tell?"
    "Watch when a waiter passes in front of them,” said the Iceman. “They'll glow wherever his shadow falls."
    "How come?"
    "They use the larvae of some phosphorescent insect in their paints,” answered the Iceman. “They look like oils in the daylight, but they glow in the dark."
    "I never knew that."
    The Iceman smiled. “There are probably a lot of things you never knew. Live long enough and you'll learn some of them."
    "I get the feeling that you don't have much use for anyone younger than the Gravedancer,” said the Kid wryly.
    "Not much,” agreed the Iceman. He signaled a waiter and ordered an Antarrean wine, while the Kid requested a beer.
    "You know, I'd never seen a live waiter until I left Greycloud,” remarked the Kid. “Now I've seen them twice in a week."
    "They're like most luxuries,” responded the Iceman. “You pay for what you get—and you pay plenty at a place like this."
    "Uh ... until I figure out exactly what I'm going to do on the Frontier, I'm on a budget,” said the Kid.
    "No problem,” said the Iceman. “When you travel with me or work for me—and right now you're doing both—I pick up the tab."
    "Are you that rich?"
    "As a matter of fact, I am."
    "How does someone get to be as rich as you?” asked the Kid.
    "Live a long time and don't do anything too stupid,” replied the Iceman with a smile.
    "There it is again,” said the Kid.
    "There what is?"
    "This contempt for people my age."
    "Not for all of them,” answered the Iceman. “Right now the most dangerous person in the galaxy is a 28-year-old woman named Penelope Bailey. She's probably been the most dangerous person since the day she was born."
    "I never heard of her."
    "Yes, you did,” said the Iceman. “You just never knew her real name."
    "Who is she?"
    "At various times she's been known as the Soothsayer and the Oracle."
    "The Oracle?” asked the Kid, suddenly