the loathsome things scuttled over. It bore a jagged gouge running down the left side of its body—an old wound.
Yazziz Yozkulu turned to it. “Have we gathered enough Dar’sayn, Tsillanda Ma’ara?”
“We have. I will be glad to depart. I find the forest repellent.”
“As do I. I always feel a sense of trespass when we come here. However, the Saviour demands it, and the Ptoollan trees have served us well, so I suppose the diversion was worth the effort. Look at these misshapen things, though!” The creature gestured at Clarissa and me. “I don’t know what to make of them!”
“I think we have encountered a potential dissonance, my Yazziz.”
“Perhaps so. You have greater sensitivity to such matters than I. Should we withdraw from the Ritual of Immersion?”
“If you will it.”
“Do you advise it?”
“No. I recommend we proceed as normal. These new ones are curious but the dissonance I sense is fledgling. Let us take them with us. When we return to Yatsillat, we can present them to our fellow Wise Ones.”
“Very well. Saviour’s Eyes, but they are peculiarities, though!”
The Yazziz—it appeared to be a title rather than a name—lifted the hollow rod it held and very gently prodded Clarissa with the blunt end. “The other ones will feed you if you require it.”
“The other ones?” my friend asked.
One of the Koluwaian women leaned forward and touched my companion’s shoulder. “Us. Do not be concerned. We are children of the Saviour, and the gods are kind.”
“That is true,” Yazziz Yozkulu said, then addressed the woman. “Take your people back to the Ptall’kor. We will join you presently.” The beast scurried away with the one called Tsillanda Ma’ara following behind.
A shrill giggle escaped me, and I heard a sharp edge of madness in it.
Clarissa reached out, groped for my hand, and held it tightly. “Aiden, what’s wrong? I don’t know where we are, but at least we’re not with Iriputiz, and the people seem well disposed toward us.”
“People!” I screeched. “They’re not people, Clarissa! They are—they are—monsters! And this place—it’s a nightmare! A nightmare!”
The islander who’d spoken before said, “My name is Kata. This is Ptallaya. Those with us are the Wise Ones. Come. I will lead you to the Ptall’kor.”
She stood, as did the other islanders. I helped Clarissa to her feet and we followed the group through the trees.
“How far are we from Koluwai?” Clarissa asked.
“As far as can be,” Kata responded. “Ptallaya is where the gods dwell.”
A few moments later we came to the edge of the forest, and here I was confronted by yet another paralysing sight. It was a living thing, floating in the air, but whether animal or vegetable I couldn’t say. In shape, it was similar to a mermaid’s purse—the egg case of a shark or skate, dried examples of which I’d seen in bric-a-brac shops—but a powdery brown, and massive, at least a hundred feet long and thirty wide. Seaweed-like ribbons rose high into the sky from its corners, buoyed up by gas-filled sacs, and from the thing’s underside a great many tendrils dangled to the ground, about twenty feet below. Each of these had finger-like appendages at its end, which gripped the grass, appearing to hold the thing down.
“It is a Ptall’kor,” Kata explained. She emitted a trilling whistle and the thing responded by sinking down. There were Koluwaians and more of the mollusc creatures sitting on its back.
Following the islanders, I guided Clarissa up onto it and we settled on its chitinous hide. My companion let go of my hand and pressed her palms against her eyes. “It won’t do. It won’t do at all. I need my goggles. You must detail everything, Aiden. I must know our circumstance. Tell me! What is around us?”
Feeling drunk and remote, I started to speak mechanically, my emotions disengaged. I described the weird forest and its mumbling fruits, the Ptall’kor, and the landscape beyond the trees.
“The sky is pale yellow, Clarissa. There are four moons overhead and two small suns close together and very low, just above the horizon, which, incidentally, is too far away.”
“Atmospheric illusions?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What else?”
I looked down at my limbs and, at last, emotions registered—embarrassment and humiliation! I was naked! Completely naked! But my exposure also revealed that my body was covered from head to toe in small, thin white scars—Iriputiz and his knife, but healed already? How could that be possible?
“Reverend Fleischer!” my companion barked.
“I—I can’t. It’s too—too—”
She gripped my arm, almost viciously. “Be my eyes!”