and high-reaching trunk that divided at its top into horizontal branches. These divided again and again, thinning until the tips were almost invisible. The lower portions of the plant were the colour of suede leather; the upper parts a creamy white.
Gripping at the thick central branches, our vehicle slid over them and entered a second valley, through which the river flowed more rapidly. Its banks were thick with big white flowers that sent clouds of yellow pollen into the air, making the atmosphere misty.
Something was happening to the Yatsill. They’d started to twitch in a peculiar manner. I mentioned this to Kata, and she told me, “The reflections surround them. We will see them soon, too. It normally takes a bit longer for us. The meat is more difficult for us to digest.”
Clarissa asked, “What do you mean?”
“Our sight must adjust. The future is—”
Kata suddenly stopped talking and her face went slack. Her shoulders jerked. I looked at the other islanders and saw they all bore the same blank expression and were making inexplicable movements.
“Clarissa,” I said. “I think we’ve been drugged.”
Her reply, whatever it was, sounded like the deep chime of a bell. Its tone soaked into my skin and took the weight out of me. My will to move became entirely insignificant. The atmosphere wafted straight through my body and I saw, all around, intersecting planes and angles, as if the pollen was settling against invisible surfaces. The rays of the suns filled my eyes with gold, and the ringing in my ears merged with the light as my senses blended together. Suddenly I could see the lemony tang of the air; feel the lingering flavour of the Yarkeen meat like petals brushing my skin; smell the sunshine; taste the colours.
Parts of the air became reflective, as if shattered fragments of a giant mirror were floating around me. I saw myself in them, a tall, skinny man with untidy blond hair and pale blue eyes, stumbling along in a fogbound alley. Its surface was cobbled, but with seashells rather than pebbles, and the tenement buildings to either side of it were eccentrically designed and leaned inward in an exaggerated manner.
The atmosphere darkened, the yellow becoming the deepest of reds.
I was in fog. Very dense. I was lost in it. I began to feel afraid.
The soft glow of two gas lamps—or twin suns?—shone through the pall and illuminated the legs of a Yatsill. The creature was on the ground, lying face up. It had been wearing woman’s clothing, but these garments were now rent and tangled, ripped away from the body, the front of which had been shattered. I felt, heard, smelled the crushed splinters of its carapace, the ripped innards that had been torn from it, the red blood that puddled outwards, oozing along the channels between the inset shells of the road.
A large broken section of the thing’s torso swam into sharp focus. It bore a long mark on it—the furrow of an old wound. The corpse was that of Tsillanda Ma’ara.
I looked down and saw that my hands were wrapped around the grip of a long sword. Its guard was fashioned with ornately carved and curved quillons, and its pommel was large, heavy, and studded.
Blood dripped from the blade.
Darkness pressed against me.
The weapon. Tsillanda Ma’ara. The blood.
“I can’t be!” I moaned. “I can’t be!”
° °
4. IMMERSION AND TRANSFORMATION
I lay still, with my eyes shut. The citrus air whispered past my ears. The yodel of an animal echoed from the far distance.
Kata’s voice: “Sometimes it is this way. The Valley of Reflections can be difficult.”
Clarissa: “You should have warned us. Had I known the meat would affect us in this manner, I would have refused it.”
“But it is tradition. The valley cannot be traversed without first tasting Yarkeen.”
My mouth felt dry and there was an unpleasant sensation in my stomach, as if I’d swallowed a ball of tobacco. I opened my eyes. “Clarissa.”
“Aiden! Are you all right?”
I sat up, blinked, and saw that the Ptall’kor was gliding through an area of rocks and bubbling springs and waterfalls. The air was filled with pollen and steam. My skin was wet with perspiration.
“No, I’m not. Do you remember Jekyll and Hyde?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“There is a darkness in me, Clarissa. I’m afraid it can rise to the surface and take over, just as Hyde did with Jekyll. I think it has a name.”