Manetho picked up the pink flower; it immediately tried to close on his hand, but was too weak to exert any grip. Manetho tore off a strip of petal, and put it into his mouth.
“Excellent. Better than the other one.”
“It should be. That plant was more dangerous.”
They divided the petals among them, and ate them with the biscuits and dried meat. The flavour as Manetho had said, was richer than the one they had tasted earlier. Niall was intrigued to observe that, in spite of the honey-like fragrance, there was a flavour that reminded him of fresh meat. The juicy petals made a delicious accompaniment to the dried meat and biscuits.
Doggins glanced up at the sun.
“Time we moved on.”
As he spoke, Niall experienced a tingling sensation against his right thigh; he recognised it immediately as the peculiar vibration of the telescopic rod. He reached into his pocket. The electrical tingling was so strong against his fingertips that he almost snatched his hand away. Then, as he was about to take the rod out of his pocket, it ceased.
Simeon had noticed his change of expression.
“Is anything the matter?”
“Nothing.” Niall decided it must be some freak effect of the atmosphere of the Delta.
Milo stood up. “I’m going to sit under the tree for a moment.”
Simeon said: “Hurry up. And take your Reaper.”
“Reaper?” Milo looked surprised.
“Never take risks in the Delta.”
Niall decided that a few minutes under the tree might dissipate the drowsiness induced by the food. He picked up his Reaper and followed Milo. Manetho also rose to his feet.
As Milo bent to duck under the branches, Niall saw them shudder. His sense of danger was suddenly alert; the shudder was like the eagerness of a hungry animal. He halted and called: “Be careful.” But, even as he spoke, the tree shut like a trap. It was as swift as the leap of a trapdoor spider. Milo screamed as the branches closed in on him, with a downward movement like the closing of a hand.
Niall raised his Reaper, but checked the impulse to fire. In that writhing mass of branches, which had now closed down against the trunk, it was impossible to know where Milo was situated. But the frantic scream of “Help me!” banished his hesitation. He pointed the Reaper at the top part of the tree, pulled the trigger, and moved the weapon sideways. The tree hissed like an angry snake as its topmost branches suddenly crashed down, and Niall was sprayed with drops of liquid sap. But the lower branches continued to grip and squeeze. They had now closed in so tightly that the roots of the tree were exposed. Niall pointed the Reaper downward, and pulled the trigger. The tree shuddered convulsively, and some of the branches thrashed like frantic arms. As the tree fell towards him, Niall jumped backwards; at the same moment, Milo stopped screaming. One of the branches lashed at Niall, knocking him off his feet. The tree crashed down a few yards away.
The branches resisted as they tried to tear them apart; it was like trying to force steely fingers to relax their grip. Then Manetho pulled one of them aside by sheer strength, and shouted: “I can see him. Give me a Reaper.” Niall handed him his own; Manetho took aim, and carefully sliced off the top six feet of the tree. The branches suddenly released their hold. Simeon pushed them aside and dragged Milo clear. His face was blue, and his clothes were soaked in blood.
Simeon bent over him, tearing open his tunic; he bent down and placed his ear against Mile’s chest.
“He’s still breathing. Bring some water.” Doggins brought his water bottle. Simeon splashed water on Milo’s face, using his hand to clean away the blood. Niall struck furiously at a horse-fly that tried to settle on Milo’s chest, and knocked it several feet away. Milo opened his eyes, and tried to turn his head.
“Are you all right?”
He tried to speak, but his voice choked. The horse-fly made a second attempt to settle on him, and was slammed to the ground by a blow of Manetho’s huge hand; a moment later, it had been crushed underfoot; the air filled with a peculiar, bitter odour.
They removed Milo’s tunic, and washed his body in cold water; when the blood had been cleared away, they could see that his skin was covered with tiny bruises and puncture marks. It looked as if his flesh had been pierced by a thousand thorns. He was also bleeding from both nostrils. As Simeon prodded and squeezed his limbs, looking for broken bones, he gasped and winced; then he fainted.
Simeon looked down at a swollen ankle. “No bones broken, as far as I can tell. But he’s not going to be able to walk for a few days.”
Doggins gave a groan of rage. “What are we going to do now?” “We’ve two alternatives. We could either make a stretcher, and carry him back. Or we could leave him here.”
Milo’s eyes opened. “You go on.” His voice was little more than a croak.
They looked at one another. Simeon said:
“I’d have to stay with him. He can’t stay here alone.”
Milo tried to force himself up on to one elbow. “Yes I can. I’ll be all right. It’s my fault anyway. . .”
Doggins glared at him savagely. “Yes, it bloody well is, you feeble-minded idiot.”
Niall said: “No, it’s my fault. The Steegmaster tried to warn me.” They looked at him with incomprehension. “The rod began to tingle a few seconds before he went under the tree.” He took it out of his pocket. “I should have realized.”
“Warn you?” Simeon looked blankly at the metal cylinder. “How could it know what was going to happen? It’s only a computer.”
“It can read minds.” He dropped it back into his pocket. “But I should have realised myself. I should have known when we sliced the head off that pink flower. It was ten times as fast as the other one. That’s because we’re closer to the centre of the force. So it doesn’t need to stun its prey with drugs — it can use sheer speed.”
Doggins said: “If you’re right, it should get more dangerous as we get closer to the centre.”
Niall shrugged but said nothing.
They sat in gloomy silence, watching Simeon tending Milo’s wounds. These continued to bleed as fast as they were washed. Milo himself looked down at his body with a curious detachment.
“I think that tree injected some kind of drug or venom. I’ve got a strange, numb feeling.”
A few minutes later, he lost consciousness again.
Simeon used up all the bandages in attempting to stanch the bleeding; within minutes, they were soaked. Simeon said:
“I’m afraid he’s right. The tree must have injected some kind of anti-coagulant. If this keeps on, he’ll bleed to death in less than an hour.”
Doggins asked: “Is there anything we can do?”
“Mud would help. And the leaves of the suva bush.”
“What do they look like?”
“Long leaves, with a kind of purple grape in the centre.”
Manetho said: “I saw something like that back up the trail. Very dark green leaves, the colour of ivy.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll go and get them.”
“For God’s sake be careful. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
When Manetho had gone, they tried to make mud in a canvas bucket with a mixture of earth and water. But the earth was oddly dry and friable, and the result was unsatisfactory.
Niall said: “I could hear a stream near the bush with that pink flower.”
Simeon looked despairingly at the blood that now dripped through the bandages.
“All right. Try it.”
Niall carried the Reaper in one hand and a canvas bucket in the other. He advanced with extreme caution, and made a wide circuit to avoid the bush with the pink flowers. Beyond this there was a grove of snake willows. He studied them carefully, made sure that they had grey moss clinging to the branches, and pushed his way through them. On the far side he found the stream he was looking for. It had deep, sloping banks, covered with rich green grass and tiny yellow flowers; the grass moved aside as he slid down the bank, revealing bare earth, and the flowers withdrew into the ground, leaving only the tops of their heads exposed. Niall trod around them carefully, to avoid crushing them.
The water was shallow, and was full of a green weed with shiny, cress-like leaves; when he stepped on this, his feet sank into glutinous mud. By tearing up the weed in handfuls, he was able to fill the bucket with a mud that had the consistency of sticky dough.
When the bucket was filled, he washed his hands in the muddy water, and straightened up. As he did so, he started with shocked dismay; scarcely six feet away a face was looking into his own; it had the protruding eyes and wide mouth of a frog, but was at least twice the size of a human face. His instinctive reaction was to reach out for the Reaper; but it was at the top of the bank. A moment later the face was gone, but Niall caught a glimpse of an upright body, whitish-grey in colour, vanishing into the trees on the far side of the stream. He stood staring intently for at least a minute, but saw no more sign of movement. His breath exploded in a long sigh of relief.