like pearls in the shimmering gloom.
I looked out from the peak in all directions. At times,
the curtains of gray would part, present a flash of some
strange scenery. It was as if all parts of the world were
equally near at hand from this summit—but a mile at
most. I saw green fields and a silver river cutting through
them like the winding body of a python. I saw a cold
white plain where there was snow and where slabs of ice
jutted upwards like broken teeth. I saw what seemed to be
stretches of impenetrable jungle, black flowers blooming
on the dark green foliage. I saw endless miles of sand, burnt
white beneath a relentless sun, columns of the dried earth
stirred upwards into the sky and winding erratically across
the barren landscape. There was a land of broken ebony
mountains where sunlight was reflected from polished
Stygian surfaces and came back brown.
It was clear that I would have to explore all these places
if I were ever to find the way out—if there happened to be
a way out. I rose from the earth and left the four stone
pillars, began the trek down the mountainside once more.
I was a third of the way down when the dark-winged
creatures descended through the fog, swept by me, cutting
the air with a sharp and unpleasant whine. I looked down
where they had disappeared through the lowest layers of
the mist. As I watched, they reappeared, rising gracefully
toward me. There was a smooth coating of black down
over their large, batlike bodies, giving them a warm,
smooth, gentle look. Set in each of their faces were two
wide eyes, deep brown things which looked back at me
with an almost unbearable melancholy.
They settled onto the trail before me, their wings curling
in on themselves, rolling into closed scrolls on their backs.
Distorted, many-fingered hands reached on tiny arms from
the point where their shoulders and wings connected: use-
less arms.
“Where do you go?” the largest creature asked me.
“To all the lands,” I said.
“They are wide. And many.”
“I have time.”
“That is true.”
“Where do you come from?” I asked. I knew they were
creatures fashioned by Child’s mind, just as he peopled all
the landscapes with animals of eerie forms. I was intrigued
by their seeming intelligence.
“We are from—from the place where he is trapped.”
“Where Child is trapped?” I asked,
“Yes,” the smaller one said.
“Why doesn’t Child come himself? Why must he take
the form of birds?”
“He is trapped. He wants out, but there is no way but
except through the dumb animals of his landscapes. He
can reach into us and make us more than we once were
and thus monitor this land through others’ eyes.”
“Can you take me to where Child is trapped?” I asked.
“We don’t know.”
“He can tell you.”
“He doesn’t know either,” the smaller one said.
“Yet both of you are Child,” I said. “In essence, you
are your master.” The wind buffeted us, but we did not
mind it
“I suppose,” the larger bird said. “But there’s really very
little we can do about it. We can help him as he wishes. But
he can only impart his general intelligence and psychic
power to us. He cannot fully acquire us and speak through
us in the direct manner he might wish.”
The smaller bird stepped forward and bent conspiratori-
ally. “You are aware, of course, that he is mad. And being
mad, he has become separated from total control of this
inner world of his. It remains, and he keeps it functioning.
But he does not share the harmony of it any longer.”
“I understand,” I said. “But why did you come to me?”
“We live in the mountains,” the larger one said. “While
you were here, it was our duty to speak with you about
your journey.”
“Speak,” I said. It was raining slightly, a warm rain.
“We don’t know what to say,” the large bird said. “We
have his general urgency in mind. We understand that he
wishes us to say something to you concerning your idea to