As they passed the hollow where they had killed the giant saurian, Niall experienced a momentary rush of panic when he saw the same white bones gleaming in the sunlight. But when he used his second pair of eyes, he saw with relief that this was exactly what it seemed: the skeleton of a dead animal. Not the slightest vestige of flesh remained on the bones; they had been picked clean.
When they reached the top of the slope, they paused for breath. Niall, without thinking about it, sat down on the grass. It produced a faintly pleasant tingle where it touched his damp flesh, but seemed otherwise like any normal grass.
Doggins gave him an odd look, then also sat down.
“Did you forget?”
Niall shook his head. “Not exactly.”
It was true that he had forgotten; yet he had also known, subconsciously, that the grass was now safe.
They were staring out over the brown marshlands, with their high reeds, to the distant hills where the others were waiting for them. It was encouraging to be within the sight of their objective.
Doggins gave him a long sideways glance.
“You know something that I don’t. What is it?”
Niall did not pretend not to understand. In a sense, he had been waiting for the question ever since they set out two hours ago. He pointed over the great bowl of the Delta, with its steaming jungle and swampy marshland.
“The spiders and beetles regard this as a sacred place, the temple of the goddess Nuada. We came into it armed with weapons of destruction, and the Delta was prepared to destroy us. Now we’ve abandoned the weapons, and the goddess is allowing us to go in peace.”
Doggins said slowly: “There was a time when you’d have been burnt as a sorcerer.”
Niall shrugged. “It isn’t sorcery, just common sense.” He stood up. “We’d better move if we want to get back before dark.”
The second part of their journey was oddly uneventful. In the marshes, they followed the trampled path through the reeds. The sun beat down on them from a blue sky that seemed to ripple with its own energy, yet neither of them felt tired; they seemed to be sustained by some inner force. Dragonflies more than a yard long buzzed down towards them then flew upward again, creating a welcome draught with their powerful wings. In one place where the ground was swampy, green gnats, each one as big as a finger-end, made a shrill noise as they whirled around their heads, sometimes making them wince with alarm when they flew too close to their ears. Yet neither of them sustained a single bite.
As the sun dipped towards the western hills, Niall observed that the insects were becoming less active, and that even the sounds of the birds had taken on a drowsy note. He himself was experiencing a pleasant heaviness in his limbs. The empress plant was withdrawing its energies, allowing them to sink with the sun; Niall’s drowsiness was an indication of how far he had become reliant on the vibration of the plant. But by turning the thought mirror, he was able to restore his alertness and concentration. Unlike the other creatures of the Delta, he was not dependent on the energies of the empress plant; his source of energy lay inside himself.
By the time the dusk fell, they could see over the tops of the reeds to the green space that ran between the marsh and the treeline at the foot of the eastern hills. And as they emerged from the reeds, both of them saw the rising sparks that marked the presence of a campfire. Doggins halted, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted “Simeon!” The sound echoed back from the hillside, and alarmed birds flew up from the tree-tops. A moment later, there was a faint shout in reply. As they hurried up the green slope towards the trees, they saw a light advancing towards them; this soon resolved itself into Simeon, carrying a burning torch in front of him. When they were ten yards apart, he laid it carefully on the ground, then ran forward to embrace them. He hugged Niall so fiercely that Niall thought his ribs would crack.
“Thank God you’re back. We didn’t think we’d see you again.” The voice was as gruff and controlled as ever, but Niall could sense that it concealed immense depths of relief.
The leaping flames of the bonfire made the clearing almost as bright as day. But Niall could see at a glance that little had changed since they left. Milo was lying on a makeshift couch of leaves and grass, wrapped in blankets; Manetho was standing beside the fire, smiling, but when he moved towards them he did so with the uncertain steps of a blind man. As Niall embraced him, he caught a glimpse of white eyeballs below the grotesquely swollen eyelids.
Half an hour later, Niall was relaxing on his own improvised couch of branches, sipping a cup of wine as he watched Simeon chopping vegetables for a stew. Nearby, on the ground, lay the skin of an animal Simeon had shot that morning, and whose flesh was now simmering in the cooking pot; it had the snout of a pig, but was covered in soft grey fur, and had the long, powerful hind quarters of a hare. The smell from the cooking pot made Niall’s mouth water.
Doggins asked Milo a question; when there was no reply, they saw that he had fallen asleep. Simeon said quietly: “It’s been like that since you left. He’s spent most of the time asleep.”
“When do you think he might be well enough to travel?”
“Not for several days, at least.”
Doggins said: “Then we’ll have to make a stretcher and carry him. We can’t spare that much time.”
Simeon poured the plateful of vegetables and roots into the simmering cooking pot.
“Are we hurrying back for any reason?”
Doggins shrugged and shook his head. It was the first time he had admitted, even tacitly, that the expedition had been a failure.
“We can’t stay away too long. You never can tell what the crawlies might do.”
Niall found himself falling into a doze; the heat of the fire made him drowsy, and it had been forty-eight hours since he had slept. Yet even as his mind filled with the voices of sleep, some element in him refused to abandon consciousness. For a moment, he seemed to hover in a dark limbo, as featureless as outer space. Then he realised that he was again slipping into the half-dream state, and was aware of the vibration of the empress plant. This time there was no communication; the plant did not even seem to be aware of his presence. But its soft nocturnal vibration filled him with a sense of peace. This, he realised was the purpose of the vibration: to bring relaxation and refresh the vital powers.
Then his consciousness seemed to reach out to the others, and he began to experience an acute sense of discomfort, as if a cold wind was draining away his warmth. After a moment, he was able to grasp that this discomfort proceeded from two sources. One was Manetho, who was sitting quietly by the fire, listening to the conversation. Because he could feel the firelight, but was unable to see it, Manetho was suddenly gripped by a black despair; the thought of spending the rest of his life in this darkness drained away all his courage.
The other source of discomfort was Milo, who was fast asleep. Now, suddenly, Niall was aware of what was wrong with him. It was not poison that was draining his vitality, but some form of living fungus in his bloodstream. The fungus was part of the sap of the Judas tree, and it was a parasite. As fast as Milo renewed his vitality with food and sleep, the fungus drained it away again. And Milo was helpless against it since his own vital forces were on a higher level than those of the parasite, and lacked the power of retaliation.
For Niall, the answer seemed obvious. All that was necessary was for Milo to tune in to the vibration of the empress plant, which was capable of attacking the parasite on its own level. But Milo was totally incapable of doing this; he was unaware of the power of his mind to control his vital responses.
But at least his mind was now passive, sunk in exhausted slumber. Niall allowed his own vital forces to blend with Milo’s until the two were synchronised. Then he set out to soothe Milo’s overstrained nerves and discordant spirits into a state of relaxation. Milo’s problem was that he was little more than a child; he had spent his life in the cozy security of the beetle city without any need to call upon his deeper resources; now he felt helpless and vulnerable. Yet because his mind was childlike, he was surprisingly easy to influence. As his breathing became soft and regular, his being relaxed until it had reached the same vibration-rate as the empress plant. Then the power began to flow quietly into his bloodstream, awakening the resistance of his own vital forces. At this point, Niall knew he could safely leave him to his own devices.