A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3

Resuming the march rejuvenated and refreshed but acutely conscious of the ominous presence of the sun lurking just over the eastern horizon, they entered an area of the salt pan that was not flat. Merged as it was with its identically tinted surroundings, it was not surprising they had missed seeing it from a distance. Though equally devoid of food or water, it at least gave them something new to look at and comment upon.

Towers of salt rose around them, not numerous enough to impede their progress but sufficient to alter it from time to time. Worn by the wind and the occasional infrequent storm, they had been weathered into a fantastic array of shapes. Amusing themselves by assigning names to the formations, the travelers competed to see who could identify the most outrageous or exceptional.

Pointing sharply to a column of whitened, translucent halite that had been undercut by the wind, Hunkapa Aub conveyed childlike excitement in his voice. “See that, see there! An ape bowing to us, acknowledging our passage.”

Simna cast a critical eye on the structure. “Looks more like a pile of rubbish to me.”

“No, no!” Moving close and nearly knocking the swordsman down in the process, Hunkapa jabbed a thick, hirsute finger in the column’s direction. “It an ape. See—the eye is there, those are the hands, down at the bottom are the—”

“Ask it if it can show us a shortcut out of here,” Simna grunted. Nodding to his left, he singled out a ridge of distorted, eroded salt crystals. “Now that looks like something. The jade wall of the Grand Norin’s palace, complete with open gates and war turrets.” He gestured with a hand. “If you squint a little you can even see the floating gardens that front the palace over by …”

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