allowed her to counter it by suppressing the Yatsills’ metamorphosis. The natural evolution of the species was almost completely halted.”
With a jerk of my hand, I ordered the witch doctor to the door. Clarissa followed him, limping slightly, and I fell in behind. We exited the room. The guards were still in a stupor. We passed them without incident and started up the ramp.
“Yissil Froon was the first Yatsill to drink Dar’sayn,” I said. “He took it in large amounts. It gave him greater mesmeric control—and insight. He saw the true nature of the relationship between the Yatsill and the Mi’aata. That’s when he approached you, isn’t it, Iriputiz? After he realised.”
The Koluwaian swallowed nervously and nodded.
“And what did he do?” Clarissa asked.
“Answer her!” I barked.
Iriputiz moaned and said, “Some of my people fell through the rupture. They were brought to Yatsillat. When the Heart of Blood rose, what few Mi’aata hatched fed off their blood and fled to the sea. Yissil Froon could listen to their thoughts. He could influence their actions. With his mind, he followed them and discovered Phenadoor.”
We came to the door that led to the platform where the flier was parked. I pushed Iriputiz through it, whirled him around to face me, and kept shoving until he was standing with his heels at the very edge of the precipitous drop. I repeated Clarissa’s question. “And what did he do?”
Glancing fearfully down at the streets far, far below, the old man stammered, “He—he—he sent me back through the rupture to fetch more people.”
“For the new Mi’aata. To make them insane. To make them susceptible to his influence.”
“Y-yes. Pretty Wahine had disappeared. We could not find her. But she was still interfering. Even so, some Mi’aata were born at every rising of the Heart of Blood. They required food.”
I placed my right forefinger in the middle of the witch doctor’s chest and held it there while addressing Clarissa.
“Yissil Froon knew of Earth from this hound. And he knew from the sick Mi’aata that Phenadoor was scientifically advanced. He realised that, with its manufacturing power and the growing number of Divergent, he could create an invasion force.”
“Surely you don’t mean that he intends to attack our world, Aiden!”
“I mean exactly that. Get into the vehicle, please.”
I applied a slight pressure to the Koluwaian’s chest. He swayed backward, his arms windmilling as he fought for balance.
“Please!” he yelled.
“Clarissa,” I said. “Can justice be evil?”
So softly that I could barely hear her, she replied, “If it’s true justice, I don’t see how it can be, Aiden.”
I gave a grunt of agreement and pushed.
The witch doctor’s eyes went wide, his mouth opened, and he toppled backward and vanished from sight. A long receding wail rose from below and quickly trailed away to nothing.
I turned, paced over to the flier, climbed in, and began to manipulate the controls.
Clarissa remained silent.
“There are certain matters,” I said, quietly, “that I am beginning to see in black and white.”
The vehicle moaned quietly and rose into the air. I steered it high over Zone Four.
“Is there a way out of here?” I asked.
“To the left. A shaft of red light is shining in—there must be an opening.”
I spotted the beam and directed the craft toward it. The light was streaming into the cavern at an angle that suggested the red sun had made considerable progress across the sky since I’d last seen it.
“I was Yissil Froon’s plague carrier,” I called back to my friend. “His means to overcome Pretty Wahine’s influence. He needed me in New Yatsillat. So when Yarvis Thayne tried to raise opposition to our presence, Froon had him murdered.”
“By whom?”
“The same Yatsill that attacked you, I expect. My guess is he dominated them mentally and made them train to fight. I doubt they really understood what they were doing. Froon made a show of supporting those who wanted us banished from the city, but in reality, the only one he wanted gone was you.”
“Because I was trying to find a cure?”
“And also because the Yatsill were mimicking your inventiveness. You weren’t meant to be transported to Ptallaya—and you certainly weren’t meant to be a host for the parasite. He was afraid your level of intelligence, transmitted to the Yatsill, might lead them to realize what he was up to. That’s why he tried to have you banished to the Whimpering Ruins, and why, having failed, he then orchestrated the attempt on your life. Later, in surreptitiously investigating your mind, probably in search of