It was a strange relief to feel solid ground under his feet again, and to see the waves breaking impotently on the white sand instead of waiting below to engulf him. His legs felt stiff and painful as he walked along the beach towards Doggins and Milo, but each step on the damp sand gave him pleasure. Fifty yards further away, Simeon and Ulic were struggling to pull their balloon clear of two palm trees between which it had jammed itself.
Doggins was in a state of wild elation; he threw an arm around Niall’s shoulder and squeezed him, gesturing with his other hand at the moonlit beach.
“What do you think of that? Smack on target!” He chuckled. “I told you I felt lucky.”
It took them half an hour to unload the balloons, and then to drag them, folded, into the shelter of the trees. A hundred yards away, Milo found a rocky pool fed by a small stream; in this they deposited the porifids and emptied a container of grubs in after them. After the long journey, they were all beginning to feel a certain affection towards the evil-smelling molluscs.
The palm trees ran along a ridge that formed the limit of the beach; on the far side of this, there was a sandy hollow covered with marram grass; here they dragged their baggage and the sacks containing the Reapers and the fire-bombs. Milo and Ulic, who were in a state of noisy euphoria, wanted to light a fire to cook a meal, but Simeon advised against this; it could attract unwelcome visitors from the interior of the Delta. Niall, meanwhile, used his knife to scrape a shallow depression in the sand, with a hollow for his hip, and lined it with the plastic garment that he had brought from the white tower. He made a pillow from a folded blanket, and covered himself over with another blanket that was still slightly damp from the rain. No bed of leaves or esparto grass had ever felt more luxuriously comfortable; within a few minutes he was sound asleep.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was grey with dawn, although the sun was not yet visible. The first thing he noticed was the smell, the distinctive smell of the Great Delta. It was not simply the odour of rotting vegetation; here, at close quarters, there was another smell that was harder to define, a smell that made him think of damp black earth and of white funguses. And as he concentrated on this smell, trying to define its essence, he became aware of the vibration. It was not even necessary to withdraw deliberately into a state of inner relaxation. Here, on the edge of the Delta, the vibration was clearly perceptible, like the breathing of some enormous animal.
The others were all apparently asleep; but when he pushed himself up on to one elbow, Simeon turned towards him and smiled. He had evidently been awake for some time.
“Hungry yet?” Simeon spoke softly, so as not to wake the others.
“Yes, I am.” He realised that he was ravenous.
“That’s the trouble with the Delta.” Simeon pushed off his blanket, stood up, and beckoned to Niall. “Let’s see if we can find some breakfast.”
From his pack he took a long knife, whose machete-like blade was obviously designed for slashing vegetation. He also took a large canvas bag with a shoulder strap. Then, treading carefully around the sleepers, they made their way to the top of a row of sandhills that lay on the far side of the hollow. Now, as the light increased, Niall was struck by the greenness of the vegetation, and by the rich colouring of the flowers; the leaves on the low bushes looked as if they had been sprayed with some glossy green paint, while the red, yellow and purple flowers that grew abundantly from the sandy ground seemed to be trying to call attention to themselves, like the moist lips of an attractive girl. Niall found the effect at once appealing and curiously repellent.
From the top of the sandhills, the view over the Delta was impressive. From here they could see that it was a lowland basin, about fifty miles across at its widest point, bordered by hills to the east and west. At the moment most of it was in shadow, since the sun was only just climbing above the eastern horizon. A silvery mist lay above its central region, whose main feature was a low, forest-covered hill. He could also distinguish the gleam of a river winding its way among the rich green vegetation. At this hour of the morning the Delta looked at once harmless and romantic; only its distinctive smell seemed to carry a note of menace.
They walked down into another valley, whose sides were covered with a carpet of glossy green vegetation that resembled a kind of overgrown watercress; it crunched under their feet, and gave off a pungent but not unpleasant odour. On the far side of the valley there were a number of low bushes with heart-shaped leaves and a globular yellow fruit with streaks of purple.
Simeon pointed. “That’s what we’re looking for — the sword bush.”
“Is the fruit good to eat?”
“No. It tastes horrible.”
They approached a bush whose dewy leaves glistened in the sunlight. Niall started to reach out towards one of the fruits, but Simeon caught his wrist.
“Wait. If you want to survive in the Delta, never obey your first impulse. Almost everything you look at contains some kind of trap.”
Simeon reached into the pocket of his tunic, and took out a leather glove. He placed this on the end of the long knife, then reached out with it so it touched one of the fruits. In the depths of the bush there was a sudden movement that made Niall jump; then he saw that the glove had been transfixed by a long black spike. Swiftly, Simeon withdrew the knife blade from the glove, and slashed downward. The glove fell at their feet; Simeon picked it up, and pulled out the spike. It was made of a hard, glossy wood, and its point was as sharp as a needle. Simeon replaced the glove on the knife, and this time reached out towards a fruit at ground level. Once again, a spike leapt out from behind the fruit and impaled the glove. Once again, Simeon withdrew the blade and slashed off the spike. He repeated this procedure three times more. But when he did it a fourth time, nothing happened. Simeon tried it once more, and when there was no response from the bush, he reached out and picked the fruit. He dropped half a dozen of these into his shoulder bag.
“You see? The plant learns quickly. Don’t do that!” Niall had bent down to peer into the bush, to try to see the origin of the spikes; Simeon’s warning made him jerk back his head. “It’s learned that a hand is dangerous, but it might still try to put your eyes out.”
“But what does it do with the things it’s killed?”
“Pulls them back into the middle of the bush and lets them go rotten. Then it somehow absorbs them.”
Niall looked with distaste at the harmless-looking bush. “It seems somehow. . . dishonest.”
“But understandable. How would you like to have both your feet planted in the earth so you couldn’t move?”
Niall pointed to the rich green leaves underfoot, with their sappy, slightly medicated odour. “Is this dangerous?”
“Only if you fell asleep on it. This smell is a narcotic. You’d go into sweet dreams and never wake up. Like that thing over there.” He pointed to a low mound covered with the glossy vegetation.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know — perhaps a warthog — they wander down from the rain forest.”
Niall bent and peered at the mound more closely, moving some of the leaves aside. He could see a few fragmentary remains of fur, but the pale white stems had taken root in the flesh, so that most of it was indistinguishable from the soil. Simeon said:
“Once they’re asleep, this stuff grows all over them within hours. It’s eating them while they’re still alive.”
They moved on back towards the camp. Simeon suddenly halted. “Ah, that’s what I was looking for.”
He led the way towards a clump of bushes with brightly coloured flowers. As they came closer, Niall saw that Simeon seemed to be interested in a twisted grey shrub covered with spiky globes, each one about three inches in diameter.
“What is it?”
“We simply call it the protector.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Only if you blunder into it without seeing it. The spines are poisonous — they cause very painful swellings.”
Simeon raised the knife and chopped off one of the globes; it fell to the earth like a decapitated head. Simeon pulled the glove on to his hand, and carefully picked up the globe by one of its spines. Then, holding it against the ground, he proceeded to chop at the spines until every one had been removed or broken half-way. He then dropped it into his bag, and went on to collect half a dozen of the globes. He said with satisfaction: