Then someone was shaking him by the shoulder. Simeon was leaning over him.
“Ready to eat?”
He yawned and forced himself into a sitting position. Simeon handed him a bowl of hot stew and a chunk of bread torn from the loaf. The fire was now a mass of glowing embers, in the midst of which a few recently-thrown logs were bursting into flame.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“About two or three hours.”
A voice from the shadows said: “Don’t I get anything to eat?”
Simeon looked round in surprise.
“You awake, Milo? There’s plenty of stew. How hungry are you?”
“Ravenous!” Milo’s voice was firm and clear; Doggins and Simeon exchanged glances. Simeon began to spoon broth into a bowl.
“Stay there. I’ll bring it to you.”
“I don’t want to stay here. I’ve been lying down long enough.” Suddenly, he was standing in the firelight. His tunic was creased and rumpled, and his hair was disheveled; but the color was back in his cheeks. He suddenly began to laugh. “What’s that horrible-looking creature?” He was looking at the skin of the animal.
“That’s what you’re going to eat. It may look funny, but it tastes all right.”
Milo took the bowl, picked out a leg with his fingers, and bit into it. “Mmm, delicious. Better than rabbit.”
It was true; the flesh of the strange creature had a curiously nutty flavor, and the texture of roast lamb.
Doggins asked casually: “Think you might be ready to set out tomorrow?”
Milo swallowed, nodding enthusiastically.
“That would be marvelous. I’ve had enough of this place.”
“Good. We set out at dawn.”
Simeon and Doggins stared at Milo as he ate, unable to believe the transformation. Milo, unaware that he had just returned from the brink of death, concentrated on his food with the absorption of a hungry child.
Niall finished his own soup, drinking the last dregs out of the bowl, then lay down and pulled a blanket round his shoulders. Within moments he had plunged into a deep and dreamless sleep. When he opened his eyes, the moon was still overhead, and the sky was blue with dawn. The others were packing their haversacks and folding their blankets; they had obviously let him sleep on. They ate a light breakfast of hard biscuits and fruit, sitting around a small camp fire. As the sky lightened, birds began to sing, and the tree-tops rustled with a dawn wind. Simeon and Doggins looked thoughtful; Niall guessed they were thinking about what would happen when they got home; Milo wore a cheerful smile, he was evidently elated at the prospect of returning. Manetho stared straight ahead of him as he ate, and spoke only when spoken to; when he looked at the expressionless face, Niall’s heart contracted with pity.
Simeon asked: “Have we decided which route we’re taking?”
Doggins said: “Back the same way we came, I suppose.”
Niall said hesitantly: “Why not straight down the valley?”
Simeon frowned. “It’s more dangerous. There are swamp adders and ortis plants and vampire bugs and God knows what.” He glanced towards Manetho, and the look implied: with a blind man in the party, we have no right to take risks.
As if he read Simeon’s thoughts, Milo said: “I don’t mind the risk.”
Doggins turned to Niall. “What do you think?”
Niall thought about it. “I don’t think we’d come to any harm if we went along the valley.”
Simeon looked questioningly at Doggins.
Doggins said: “If Niall thinks it’s safe, I’m willing to try it.”
Simeon shrugged; his look implied: in that case, don’t blame me.
They set out ten minutes later. By now the sun was above the tall conifers on the hilltop, and the mist was rising from the marsh and the jungle beyond. The empress plant looked like a great face staring seaward, with long hair descending to its shoulders. As he looked at it, Niall experienced a curious sensation of power; it flowed through his skin, causing an almost breathless feeling of delight, and a sudden vision of other places. The experience lasted only for a moment, but it left behind a glow of confidence and exhilaration. It also made Niall aware that his attitude towards the force had changed. Two days ago he had found it somehow vulgar and unsatisfying. Now he was aware that it was not being transmitted for his benefit, he could enjoy its sheer power as impersonally as he could appreciate the power of the wind or the sea.
They were now marching north, towards the sea, along the strip of grass that separated the tall reeds and the forest. They walked in single file, with Simeon in front, followed by Doggins, then Manetho, then Niall and Milo. Their progress was slow, for where the ground was uneven, or where shrubs and bushes impeded their way, it was necessary to take Manetho by the arms and guide him. None of them wanted to show too much concern; Manetho insisted that he could see dim shapes in the sunlight, and obviously wanted to believe that his sight was returning; but his stumbling and lack of direction made it clear that he was totally helpless.
A mile further on, the reeds gave way to swampland with pools of scum-colored water and clumps of prickly dark-green grass; the ground underfoot became soft and spongy. The character of the forest also changed; the trees to their right became twisted and stunted, and there were many prickly bushes, among which Niall recognized the dangerous sword bush, with its yellow fruits streaked with purple. These were interspersed with a larger bush with yellow fleshy leaves and dark-green, pumpkin-shaped fruit, each one as big as a large grapefruit. Some of these fruit had split open, revealing a coral-coloured interior with large seeds and a syrupy liquid that dripped on to the ground. The smell was rich and inexpressibly pleasant. Niall asked Simeon:
“Do you know what these are called?”
“No, but I wouldn’t trust them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they smell too good.”
They had come to a halt, enjoying the rich odour. As they stood there, one of the fruits burst open with a faint plopping noise, and its two halves slowly separated like an opening mouth. A stick insect, lured by the delicious smell, landed delicately on the skin of the plant, and lowered its head to taste the syrupy juice. Suddenly, the fruit had become a globe again, and the insect was struggling wildly, its head trapped inside the mouth that had closed as swiftly as the blink of an eye. The plant could evidently exert suction for, as they watched, the insect was drawn inside inch by inch, until its struggling back legs vanished.
Milo said: “Surely they couldn’t harm human beings.”
Simeon shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Niall made an effort to see the bush with double vision. What he saw made his skin crawl with alarm. The bush suddenly exuded an air of menace, like a death spider prepared to sink its fangs into its prey; he could see that, beneath the large, fleshy leaves, which presented such a harmless exterior, the branches were flexible and prehensile, like tentacles, and that each one of them had a concealed sting at the end. As they moved away, he could sense its disappointment; it had been waiting for one of them to try and pluck its fruit.
The ground had become increasingly soft, and as they descended into a broad, shallow basin, was so spongy that they sank in up to the ankle with every step. It was necessary to tighten the straps around the tops of their boots to prevent them from being sucked off. They could have moved on to firmer ground by simply walking up the slope into the trees; but all felt instinctively that this would be dangerous. Most of the ground under the trees was hidden under a tangle of undergrowth, yet in other places, the earth was covered only with a light layer of pale green moss. Niall already knew enough about the Delta to guess that such places almost certainly concealed a trap. It was safer to squelch on through the relative safety of the marsh, even though each step released an odour of decay. When he made the effort to induce double vision — which became increasingly difficult as his tiredness increased — he felt that they were being studied by unseen eyes. Yet apart from birds, and the occasional snake, they saw no living creature.
Two hours later, with the sun high overhead, fatigue had made their progress so slow that Niall began to wonder if the valley had been a wise choice after all. Then they noticed that the ground was becoming firmer as it sloped gently upward, and that the spiky swamp grass was giving way to the coarse marram grass that grew on sandy soil. Suddenly they found themselves on top of a low eminence, looking down on a pool of brown peaty water; it was about five hundred yards across, and was surrounded by gorse bushes. Doggins threw his pack on the ground, and sank down beside it with a sigh of relief.