but growl my response. “Your people decimated the Yatsill and drained blood from the Koluwaians.”
“Yatsill? Koluwaians? I do not know these things. The Mi’aata are peaceful. We have little contact with the other species of Ptallaya. Certainly, we do not attack or consume them.”
“I witnessed it with my own eyes, Koozan-Phay.”
The Mi’aata stood silently for a moment, then said, “This is very disturbing. As a simple merchant I cannot perceive where the truth of the matter might be situated. It must be placed before the Quintessence. Come.”
I stood and followed him to the pearl panel, watched it dissolve before my eyes, then stepped after him through the portal and into an arched passageway. We moved along it, passing other Mi’aata, all intent on their various tasks, until we came to a junction. Here we turned left and exited the vessel through a round door. As we descended a ramp, I looked back at Underconveyance 202, then at the chamber in which it had docked.
The ship, settled on the surface of an inlet, was smooth, silvery, and shaped somewhat like a long, narrow fish. On top of its midsection, a crystal dome bulged outward, and from it a bright orange light glowed.
I realised that I was going to have to completely revise my impression of the Blood Gods, for the vessel was obviously far more advanced than anything my own race had created.
The inlet lapped at the edges of a spectacular grotto, an irregularly formed cavern of bluish rock veined with white crystals that flashed and glinted, illuminating everything within. When Koozan-Phay heard my exclamation of wonder, he said, “Our scholars tell us that when Ptallaya was young, Phenadoor fell to it from Tremakaat Yul.”
We crossed the dock and entered a jewel-encrusted tunnel.
“What is Tremakaat Yul?”
“The purple eye that circles this world.”
The moon with the dark blotch. There was no astronomical terminology in the Koluwaian lingo, but the concept that something could “fall” from Tremakaat Yul suggested to me that the Mi’aata might possess some knowledge of celestial matters. Perhaps, then, they would better understand the explanation of my and Clarissa’s origins than the Yatsill had done.
The tunnel sloped upward. We frequently passed openings to the right and left, and encountered many other Mi’aata, to whose fearsome appearance I was now becoming more accustomed. They weren’t the octopus-like cephalopods I’d initially taken them for. Upon closer inspection, I saw the same hints of a skeletal structure I’d spotted in the creature that burst out of Mademoiselle Crockery Clattersmash, and their six tentacles—which appeared to be interchangeable as arms or legs—were multi-jointed rather than boneless. Their “faces” were similar to those of the Yatsill in that they were four-eyed with a vertical mouth. The eyes, though, were far more expressive, each being possessed of an iris and sideways-blinking lids. The mouth was merely a slit, which made a horrible trembling motion when the things spoke.
That the Mi’aata were more intelligent than the Yatsill was suggested by the various instruments and contraptions—all constructed from crystal—which lined the tunnel and various chambers we passed through. Where the Yatsill were mimics, the Mi’aata were obviously innovators, and had created a mechanical science based—I later learned—on “resonating frequencies.” It was certainly more sophisticated, quieter, and less odorous than the engineering of my own world. Whether it was any more reliable, though, remained open to question, for I saw that many of the devices were under repair—either being dismantled by Mi’aata or put back together. This was true of the rooms and corridors we passed through, too—their walls, floors, and ceilings appeared to be in a constant state of renovation, so much so that I was prompted to ask Koozan-Phay whether Phenadoor was suffering some sort of structural decay.
“Not at all,” he replied. “We renew because the Quintessence says it is necessary.”
He led me into a small room. A pearl panel materialised in the doorway behind us, then, moments later, vanished again to reveal a different corridor beyond. Presumably the room was a passenger lift, like the ones used in New York, but I’d felt no sensation of movement and had no idea whether we’d gone up or down.
We traversed more corridors and chambers until we entered a long and narrow space with many doors set in its sides. A Mi’aata stepped forward and greeted us. “Is this Aiden Fleischer?”
“It is,” Koozan-Phay confirmed.
“He will wait in Cell Nineteen.”
“Very well.”
I was escorted into a square compartment.
“I will come for you when the Quintessence wills it,” Koozan-Phay said. “Eat