A Red Sun Also Rises

10. THOOMRA

As we left the clearing, the new pupae began to emit the soft and incomprehensible sounds that gave the forest its name.

“Perhaps they’re dreaming of what they’ll become,” Clarissa suggested.

We returned to the bank of the river where we collected a number of bamboo-like reeds. Following Colonel Spearjab’s directions, we pounded some of them with stones until they split, then extracted long fibrous strands, which we used to bind large thorns—broken from the roots of the Ptoollan trees—to the ends of the others. Thus, in addition to the pikestaff, we were now armed with makeshift spears.

We pushed on eastward, following the watercourse upstream. I told my companions about Gallokomas and his generosity. “If he’s at all typical of his race, then perhaps we can persuade the Zull to help us.”

“You intend us to trek all the way to their eyries?” Clarissa asked.

“I think they’ll be watching out for us. I hope so.” I looked back at the Heart of Blood. “It’ll take too long to get there on foot.”

After much walking, we climbed out of the valley and traipsed onward, eventually traversing an area of thinning forest until we finally emerged onto rolling savannah.

I swatted away a cloud of tiny globe-shaped creatures that had decided to swarm around my face and said, “If we keep the sun at our backs, we’ll be going in the right direction.”

“I say! The river flows from the Shrouded Mountains,” Colonel Spearjab put in. “I’d prefer to stay close to it, if you don’t mind. Humph! I have to moisten my skin from time to time. Moisten, I say! Ha ha!”

The colonel’s welfare was important to me, so I acceded to his request.

I noticed that Clarissa was gazing back the way we’d come, her eyes levelled at the sky above the forest. She looked perplexed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Something in the air over the trees. Do you see it?”

“I see steam rising from them. Is that what you mean?”

“No. There’s a sort of—a sort of a kink in the atmosphere. A fold. It reaches up as far as I can see—disappears into the heavens. It’s drifting slowly back and forth. I think it’s Yissil Froon’s rupture, Aiden, though it appears inactive at the moment.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t detect anything unusual, and neither could the colonel.

We pressed on with our journey. It was interminable. We stopped and slept at least eight times—I lost count—and successfully defended ourselves against attacking predators on numerous occasions. We ate what non-poisonous fruits and berries we could find, and we drank from the river.

Finally, Clarissa uttered a cry and pointed to a distant cloud, dark against the red sky. Peering at it, I saw it was comprised of little dots that were wheeling and darting around a Yarkeen.

“How shall we attract their attention?” Clarissa asked. “With a fire?”

“I don’t think it’ll be necessary. Some of them are coming this way.”

We stood and watched as eight dots detached from the flock and flew toward us.

“They must have eyes like eagles,” my companion noted.

“Four each!” I added.

The Zull drew closer, circled us, swooped down, and landed a few yards away. In form, they were identical to Gallokomas, but unlike my friend, whose inky-blue skin had been unmarked except for a white patch on the face, these were covered from head to foot with tattoos, all bright yellow, linear, and somewhat maze-like in design.

One of the Zull walked forward and addressed me in Koluwaian. “You are the Thing, Aiden Fleischer?”

“Yes. I’m pleased to meet you. My companions are Clarissa Stark and Colonel Momentous Spearjab. He is a Mi’aata. Did you learn of me from Gallokomas?”

“We did. All the Zull have been watching for you. My name is Artellokas. I presume you have been cast out of Phenadoor?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“You are welcome to make your home in Thoomra.”

“That is the name of your eyries?”

He nodded. “We will carry you there, if you choose.”

“That would suit us very well, thank you, Artellokas.”

The Zull looked from me, to Clarissa, to the colonel, then back at me. Its mandibles opened slowly then clicked shut.

Clarissa said, “Yes, Colonel Spearjab and I have these—” she touched the bumps on her forehead “—but our friend does not.”

Puzzled, I turned to her. “What?”

“It’s the obvious explanation, Aiden.”

“For—?”

Clarissa looked confused. “For why Artellokas can’t discern what you are—are—Oh!” She put a hand to her head and addressed the Zull. “Did you—did you—?”

There was a moment of silence, then she gasped and took a step back. Colonel Spearjab announced, “Clear as a bell! As a bell, I say! We had them in New Yatsillat, don’t you know. Bells, that is. Harrumph!”

Artellokas looked at him and asked, “That noise you are making is a language?”

“Humph!” the colonel responded.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s called English.” I looked from one to the other of my companions. “What’s happening?”

“He can speak to us!” Clarissa said. “Without making a sound!”

Artellokas clicked his mandibles again and said, “The Zull often converse nonverbally. I am curious, Aiden Fleischer, that I can neither hear your thoughts nor communicate my own to you.”

“But you can feel my emotions, yes? It was the same with the Yatsill and the Mi’aata.”

“We will limit conversation to the audible. What are Yatsill? From whence is this thing called English?”

“There is much to discuss, Artellokas.”

“Then let us go to Thoomra at once.”

Zull stepped over to us, but those that approached Colonel Spearjab hesitated and fidgeted skittishly. The colonel backed away from them.

“You’re nervous of contact,” I noted. “The Zull, Mi’aata, and Yatsill all possess an instinct to avoid one another. Can you overcome it? Colonel Spearjab isn’t at all dangerous.”

“Harmless!” Spearjab agreed.

One of the Zull nodded and said, “We shall try.”

He moved cautiously over to the Mi’aata, followed by two others. They were visibly trembling. The one who’d spoken reached out, gingerly touched Spearjab with a fingertip, then turned to the others and said, “I am uninjured.”

Reluctantly, they gathered around the colonel and took a hold of him. Others lifted Clarissa and me, and we were all swept up into the air and away toward the far-off mountain range.

The huge sun had just touched the horizon and was rippling and wavering like a paper lantern impacting the sea and crumpling in on itself.





The eyries were magnificent.

Thoomra consisted of thin columns of rock—hundreds upon hundreds of them—all about a mile high, which flared out into broad flat surfaces at their tops, their edges almost touching. On these, the Zull had created farms and small clusters of exquisitely fashioned buildings, decorated with delicate curves and flourishes, almost like works of art.

Zull society was based on an extremely simple but effective principle, it being generosity of spirit. Each individual cultivated an awareness of what his fellows required and did whatever he could to provide for them, while, in turn, making no secret of his own wants and accepting whatever help was offered. Pride, selfishness, and avarice were non-existent. Thus goods, materials, and services quickly found their way to wherever they were needed. Every Zull willingly contributed whatever he could to society and automatically strove to do the best work possible without expectation of reward. There was no central government, no unions or committees, no king or prime minister, president or chieftain.

I was reminded of how the flocks of Zull flew in a similar manner to Earth’s starlings, a great mass of them manoeuvring through the air, somehow avoiding collisions. Such cognisance of one another appeared miraculous in flight, but even more magical in the settled community, for I knew of no human population that could match it. My species is too fearful to focus on giving and too haughty to admit to any deficiency, believing that to do either would, one way or another, lead to a loss of all one’s resources.

Upon our arrival at the eyries, we were given a house to live in, food to eat, water and a wine-like beverage to drink, and told to rest and recover our strength. I asked to see Gallokomas and, in short order, he floated down onto the terrace where I was relaxing with my companions. His skin now bore the same markings as the rest of his race.

After making introductions, I gripped his hand and said, “It is very, very good to see you again, my friend!”

“Thing! I am happy you are here,” he replied, “though saddened that you, too, have been banished from Phenadoor.”

“Phenadoor is not the blissful place you imagine, Gallokomas. You lost your memory of it when you left, but mine is not impaired, and I must tell you that there’s much danger associated with the crystal mountain, and the threat extends even to Thoomra.”

His jaw mandibles twitched and he cocked his head slightly to one side. “In what manner?”

“Am I correct in thinking that the population of Zull is falling?”

“You are. I have learned this since my arrival. Our numbers are chronically reduced and the situation will soon have serious consequences if it continues. Do you have an explanation?”

I gestured toward Colonel Spearjab. “How do you feel about this Mi’aata, Gallokomas?”

He contemplated my companion for a moment, before answering, “Peculiar. There is a vague sense of familiarity, yet also an awareness that such a reaction is somehow a transgression.” The Zull suddenly switched from Koluwaian to English. “I’m sorry, Colonel Thing, I mean no offence, but I find you repugnant, though I can’t explain why.”

“Harrumph! Harrumph! Harrumph! No offence taken!” Spearjab responded. “The sentiment is mutual—and regrettable. What! What! Regrettable, I say!”

“Gallokomas, how do you know English?” I asked.

“It is in the colonel’s mind. In Miss Stark Thing’s, too.”

“And in mine.”

“But yours is inaccessible.”

I made a sound of understanding and gestured toward Spearjab. “The colonel speaks English because he was once a Yatsill, and the Yatsill learned the language from Miss Stark. As do all his kind, he transformed into a Mi’aata and went to Phenadoor, which they inhabit. When the Mi’aata’s lifespan is ending, they journey to the Forest of Indistinct Murmurings and there transform into Zull.”

Gallokomas remained silent. His silvery eyes sparkled as he contemplated this revelation.

I continued, “And when the Zull go to the Shrouded Mountains to die, they deposit tiny creatures into the waters. These attach to the Yatsill, which are a separate species, bestow intelligence upon them, and cause their slow metamorphosis into Mi’aata. You are all parts of a long life cycle. You are an intertwined species.”

Still there was no response.

I told him how Pretty Wahine had unintentionally interfered, resulting in fewer Yatsill transforming, and had caused the death of many Zull before they were able to hatch from their cocoons. I then explained how her actions had also given rise to Yissil Froon, who’d subsequently cast his destructive spell over generations of Mi’aata.

“Now he intends to use them to conquer my world. My people will, of course, resist the invasion. Thousands of Mi’aata will die, which means a further and much more dramatic drop in the Zull population. Soon, this remarkable species of yours, which goes through so many distinct phases of life, will not be able to sustain itself. Extinction beckons, Gallokomas. We must stop Yissil Froon.”

The Zull raised his four hands to his head and held it. “Thing! You are putting many strange and disturbing thoughts into me!”

“I am telling you the truth.”

“I believe you, but I do not like it.”

Colonel Spearjab said softly, “My goodness! The unutterable has been well and truly uttered. What!”

“You told me you are from a place called New Yatsillat, Thing,” Gallokomas said. “Now you say you are from another world.”

“We lived in New Yatsillat after we were transported to Ptallaya.”

“Transported? By what means?”

“There is a rupture in space, one end of which opens over the Forest of Indistinct Murmurings, the other over a small island on my world. It becomes active on Ptallaya at each sunset, compressing an unimaginable distance and making travel between the worlds possible. Yissil Froon’s ally—who traversed the path so many times he gained the ability to do so even when it was dormant—planned to reposition the far end over a populated area of my world by means of this crystal.” I lifted the stone that hung around my neck. “I stopped him.”

“So the plan is defeated, Thing?”

“No, Gallokomas. Yissil Froon is inconvenienced, but I think it very likely that he’ll still send his war machines to Earth. He’ll have to start his invasion from the island, that is all. He’s lost the advantage of surprise. It’s not enough to stop him.”

The Zull floated a few inches into the air.

“He’ll begin when the suns change?”

“Yes.”

“I will share this news with the rest of my kind. We must commence our preparations at once.”

“Will you send a patrol to watch over the forest?”

He nodded. “Give me the crystal. You have already met Artellokas—he is one of our scientists. Perhaps he and his fellows can discover a way to use it against Yissil Froon.”

I hesitated, then slipped the cord over my head and handed the gem to the Zull. He took it, inflated his flight bladder, rose into the air, and zipped away.

It might appear paradoxical to claim that a sense of urgency overtook the eyrie before then observing that the equivalent of a week or so passed during which my companions and I rested, healed, and familiarised ourselves with the Zulls’ remarkable culture, but, though the red orb was setting, it was sinking at such a snail’s pace that we had plenty of time to spare while our hosts mobilised.

Thankfully, Clarissa and I were given new garments, though these were a far cry from anything that Earthly standards of decency demanded. In my case, they consisted of nothing more than a kilt and sandals that laced up to my knees, and in Clarissa’s, a short, light dress, a wide girdle, and footwear similar to my own. She wore her goggles pushed up high over her forehead to hold back her thick mane of hair.

The colonel remained unclothed and spent most of the period lazing in a bath—“Meditating! Meditating, I say! It’s the old noggin. Still somewhat befuddled, what! There’s a lot to take in! Yatsill! Mi’aata! Zull! I hardly know where or what I am any more! Harrumph!”

My companion and I left him to it, enjoyed each other’s company, and puzzled over the Zulls’ various machines, which were so mystifying they might have operated on principles of magic rather than science. Many were hidden within the walls of the buildings, and upon closer inspection—achieved through the removal of panels—were revealed to have no moving parts at all, nor any elements I could recognise or understand. One of these baffling contraptions functioned to disseminate information, which was displayed on a large surface of concentric circles affixed to a wall in the community room of each dwelling. Like the mechanism itself, the display was so arcane as to be impossible to grasp, consisting in the main of overlapping shapes, clustered points of light of various hues and intensity, and sequences of symbols that were, Gallokomas explained, numerical in meaning.

“The apparatus is called the Life of Thoomra,” he said. “It supplements our instinctive awareness of who requires what by monitoring the production and availability of resources.”

The Life of Thoomra also transmitted the spoken word across distances, like the newly invented telephone device I’d read so much about prior to my departure from Theaston Vale—the Zull could only communicate telepathically when in close proximity.

Shortly after I’d assured Gallokomas that Clarissa, the colonel, and I were all in a fit state of health, the device was employed in this manner to relay to the rest of the community a meeting between us and a small group of Zull. The gathering was somewhat akin to a council of war. Clarissa had already been questioned about the machines she and Lord Hufferton had designed, and had redrawn many of her blueprints from memory. The contraptions all required coal to power their engines, but as this was an unknown resource on Ptallaya, Artellokas speculated that Yissil Froon would find a way to use Phenadoor’s own technology. He held up Iriputiz’s crystal and said, “In theory, the frequencies that characterise stones like this could be amplified and adjusted to cause water to boil. The engines would thus be rather less cumbersome than those you have devised, Miss Stark.”

“Making the machines lighter and more manoeuvrable,” my friend muttered.

“Oh yes, very much so. They could even travel underwater and in the air. However, while the crystals are a great advantage, they are also the machines’ most serious weakness.”

“Why so?”

“Because by interfering with their transmissions, we can cripple the engines.”

“You have a method?”

“We think so. We are creating weapons that will project a narrow beam of sound. The frequency will automatically adjust until it resonates with whatever crystal it’s aimed at. When that resonance is achieved, the sound will intensify until the gem cracks. This will render it useless.”

“Like an opera singer breaking a glass,” I mused. “It’s going to be a noisy battle.”

“I don’t know what you are referring to, but no, the sound will be well beyond the range of hearing.”

Artellokas informed us that Thoomra’s manufacturers—who were more artisans than industrialists—were already producing prototypes.

After the scientist had finished his report, a Zull who’d been keeping watch over the forest joined us and revealed that underconveyances had been landing a large number of Mi’aata at the mouth of the river. “But they are unarmed and appear sick. They go into the trees and become still among the branches.”

“The Discontinued,” I said. “They are not a threat. In fact, they will become Zull.”

The meeting finished after it was decided to send a party to New Yatsillat to recover any surviving Koluwaians. Due to the likelihood that, like Gallokomas, the Zull would find it difficult to enter the remains of the city, the responsibility fell to Clarissa and me. We’d be landed at the lip of the bay and would then make a foray into the ruins while our escorts circled overhead.

Before we set off, my two companions and I were carried to a particularly broad-topped eyrie, crowded with workshops, and were ushered into the presence of a Zull who proved to be a medic, scientist, and tattooist. Without causing me the slightest pain, he etched onto my inner right wrist a small spiralled design. He then did the same to Clarissa before adding the odd little symbol to one of Colonel Spearjab’s limbs. When the procedure was finished, Artellokas, who’d accompanied us, said, “Apply pressure to the centre of the symbol and speak Miss Stark’s name into it.”

Mystified, I raised my hand, pressed the middle of the spiral with my thumb, and said, “Clarissa Stark.”

Clarissa gave a squeal and jumped about a foot in the air. My voice had sounded from her wrist!

“It will enable you to speak across a distance with anyone you know who also carries the device,” Artellokas said. “Just press the symbol and say their name to contact them. There is no limit in range, but the tattoo will wear off in time. Most of us have them renewed each cycle.”

Her eyes wide, Clarissa put her wrist to her mouth, pressed the tattoo, and said, “Aiden Fleischer. Can you hear me?”

Despite myself, I gave a yelp and jerked sideways as her words issued from my arm. “Unbelievable!” I cried out. “This is simply astonishing! How can it possibly work?”

“It is a difficult process to explain,” Artellokas answered.

Clarissa asked, “Will you teach us the principles of Zull science once we’ve dealt with Yissil Froon?”

“I will. Come. We have more to give you.”

We were next taken to a studio, on the same eyrie, where Artellokas presented us with beautifully crafted and ornate pistol-like contrivances fashioned from wood and a brass-coloured metal. Their barrels flared out like that of a blunderbuss. “They discharge a burst of sound that will render any opponent unconscious,” he explained. “The Zull do not kill.”

I slipped my “sound gun” into its holster and belted it around my waist. Clarissa and Colonel Spearjab followed suit.

Artellokas crossed to a bench, picked up a long, heavy object wound with material, then returned and handed it to me. I unwrapped it to reveal a beautifully crafted scabbard in which a perfectly balanced sword was sheathed.

“This Zull awareness of the needs of others, and willingness to provide for them, will never cease to amaze me,” I exclaimed, for I’d been feeling strangely naked without a blade at my hip.

Next, Artellokas produced three objects consisting of tangled belts and skins. He led us outside and asked me to extend my “forelimbs.” I held my arms out sideways. Artellokas slipped the belts around me and affixed them until I was tightly harnessed. The skin drooped down my back like a cape. He directed my attention to a large metal disk at the point where the straps crossed my chest.

“Slide a digit upward across it.”

I did so. The skin instantly inflated and, with a yell of surprise, I began to float into the air.

Clarissa laughed as I kicked wildly, struggling to regain my balance.

“What ho! What ho!” Colonel Spearjab bellowed. “Hup-hup!”

Artellokas floated up to me. “Slowly slide a digit down the control.”

I did so and gradually lost altitude.

“Cover it with your hand,” he said.

The action brought me to a halt about six feet from the ground.

“Slide up to go higher. Slide down to sink lower. Tap to go fast. Press to slow down. Cover to stop. Touch the top edge to go forward, the bottom edge to go backward, the right edge to go right, the left edge to go left.”

I experimented as directed and was soon shooting about, unable to resist the temptation to holler in delight. In no time at all, I felt I’d mastered the contraption, though when I tried to land, I found myself stumbling to my knees and skidding to an undignified halt in front of Clarissa.

“Splendid!” I cried as she assisted me to my feet. “Simply marvellous, Artellokas!”

“You feel the need to engage with the enemy,” he said. “This will allow you to fight alongside us.”

Clarissa and the colonel eagerly donned their harnesses and were soon flitting about overhead with many an exhilarated scream and bawled, “What! What!”

We practised until we considered ourselves proficient, then left Artellokas and raced each other home, where we were met by Gallokomas and a large flock of Zull. Without further ado, we all set out for New Yatsillat.

It was now that I—like my companions—discovered how clumsy a flier I was, for the Zull appeared incapable of maintaining a straight line, instead swooping and darting around and about one another in such a dizzying fashion that I began to lose track of up and down. Whatever instinct allowed them to avoid collisions was sadly lacking in me, and my attempts to emulate it caused nothing but trouble. Had I maintained a steady course, all would have been well, but every time a Zull swept close to me, I couldn’t help but try to steer clear, and in doing so inevitably bumped into another, losing my balance and becoming thoroughly upended. For the initial part of the flight, I tumbled and spun through the air like a leaf in a tempest. Had I been stable enough to look for Clarissa and Colonel Spearjab, I’d have seen them in similar straits.

I was becoming thoroughly queasy when a couple of Zull came to my assistance and, by grasping my legs and holding me steady—refusing to let me dodge this way and that as was my wont—soon had me convinced that no one was going to collide with me. Finally, I was able to fly smoothly and unaided, and saw that my friends had benefitted from similar attention.

The flock proceeded in a westerly direction, and the sun, now swollen to even more gigantic dimensions, glared directly into our eyes. We first passed over the hilly and forested land that stretched between the eyries and the Shrouded Mountains. The shadowed valleys below were cut through with streams and rivers, which, reflecting the crimson sky, reminded me of the rivulets of blood I’d seen trickling between the cobbles of Buck’s Row, causing me to wonder whether Jack the Ripper was still at his grisly work in London.

The climate had by now settled. There were no more rains or strong winds. Instead, a stifling humidity closed around us, which, in collusion with the sun’s awful illumination, seemed to compact the wide-open spaces, as if the sky was pressing down. Even when we reached the mountains and soared high over them, there was no sense of increasing distance between the ground and the heavens.

“A lid has been placed over Ptallaya,” I shouted across to Clarissa, who was at that point flying alongside me, “and we are cooking beneath it!”

We swooped through the clouds of steam that bubbled up from the peaks, emerged from them, and saw the Valley of Reflections below us. I recalled my horrible vision and thought again of the Whitechapel killer. The notion that I was Jack the Ripper appeared totally absurd now, but had been such a potent impression at the time that Yissil Froon had been able to take it, exaggerate it out of all proportion, and use it to cripple my ability to properly assert myself.

I gritted my teeth. I had a score to settle!

The rocky terrain flattened into broad savannah. Herds of animals moved far below us—most, it appeared, fleeing from predators. Off to our left, I saw eight Yarkeen drifting slowly over a patch of forest, their tendril-like appendages ripping at the foliage.

We flew at a terrific speed. The air, which now held the odour of burned toast, whistled past my ears. As far as I was able to estimate—though I must admit that by now my sense of time was almost entirely lost—it took us less than two Earth days to cover the same distance that the Ptall’kor had required perhaps months to traverse.

We landed just once. Clarissa, the colonel, and I stretched and worked the kinks out of our shoulders, ate a light meal, then rested for a short period before Gallokomas ordered the flock back into the air.

More savannah, then the Mountains That Gaze Upon Phenadoor rose over the horizon, silhouetted black against the harsh purple sunset. The terrain became increasingly familiar to me. The Yatsill farms slid into view.

“Let’s set down in the fields,” I shouted to Gallokomas. “We should take a look at the nurseries.”

While the rest of the flock circled overhead, my companions and I spiralled down and came to rest beside one of the papery structures. The Zull and Mi’aata both hastily backed away from it.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Gallokomas moaned.

“Dashed uncomfortable, what!” Spearjab agreed. “Familiar, though, I must say. Harrumph!”

“You’re repulsed by the nursery,” I noted. “Excellent!”

Gallokomas twitched his mandibles. “Excellent, Thing? Why excellent?”

“Because if you’re made uneasy, then the nursery must be occupied.”

“Ah, I see. It is very queer, this aversion.”

I gripped a fold that served as the structure’s door and eased it open. Moist heat was expelled from within. Squinting into the darkness, I saw a crowd of Yatsill squatting motionlessly, apparently asleep, though their fingers were moving incessantly.

“The children are safe,” I told the others. “This is very good news. When the yellow suns rise, they’ll make their migration to the Cavern of Immersion. Some will be made Aristocrats. They’ll transmit a degree of intelligence to the rest, and in generations to come, as the Mi’aata and Zull populations are slowly restored, so too there’ll be more seed parasites, until, at some point in the future, all the Yatsill young will play host to them, and the life cycle will be healthy again.”

“Which means we must never again return to this area,” Clarissa commented. “When this lot are made Aristocrats, I don’t want them delving into my mind and overreaching themselves like their forebears did. This new generation will be free of Pretty Wahine and must also be free of me.”

After we’d checked on two more nurseries and found them similarly well stocked, Gallokomas and Colonel Spearjab rejoined the circling flock while Clarissa and I flew out over the devastated city.

The campfires were still burning on the fifth level. We made our way down to them, gliding above the awful rubble and mud until we reached the flat space where the Koluwaians and surviving Yatsill had gathered. They greeted us as we landed, and Baron Hammer Thewflex—sans mask—and Kata pushed their way to the front of the crowd.

“Hallo! Hallo!” the baron exclaimed. “You’re back, hey! Indeed you are!”

“Hello, Baron,” I said. “I’m glad to see you.” I addressed the Koluwaian. “Kata, we’ve come to take you and your fellow Servants away. We can’t allow you to remain here as food for the Blood Gods.”

She nodded wordlessly.

“Good show!” the baron exclaimed. “I think the bally invasion is over, old chap, but of course the fiends will return after the Saviour’s Eyes have looked upon us once more. Take the Servants, by all means. The poor things have been very unhappy since the city was destroyed.”

“And you, sir? What will you and your fellows do?”

Thewflex removed his top hat—careful not to catch it on his curling horns—and brushed dust from it. He waved it at the ruins. “We cannot rebuild here. No indeed! Even if we cleared away the debris, the land itself has slipped. I have it in mind to settle at the edge of the jungle on the other side of the farms. It’s not too far from the sea, and there are still a few Quee’tan in the trees. Perhaps we could capture the jolly old things and breed them. What do you think about that, hey?”

Clarissa said, “It sounds like a very good idea, Baron.”

Thewflex looked down toward the sea, where many of the Working Class were still frolicking in the water near the shore. “Perhaps if enough of the children are made Aristocrats, we’ll be able to restore some wits to that confounded rabble.”

We talked for a little longer, then bade the Yatsill farewell and led the Koluwaians up and out of the bay. Gallokomas and the colonel floated down to greet us. I drew Kata aside and said, “Each of you must decide whether to remain on Ptallaya or go through the hole in the sky to Koluwai. Those who choose to stay will be taken to the land near the Zull eyries. It is fertile and wooded and the Zull are very kind. They’ll help you to build a village and you’ll be able to live in peace.”

She nodded slowly and put her hands up to cover her heart. “And for those who’d rather go to the other world, sir?”

“We’ll try to send them, but I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. I should warn you, too, that the Blood Gods pose a danger to Koluwai. If we fail to stop them, the population of the islands will become their prey.”

“I will talk to my people.”

The islanders gathered together. It didn’t take them long to reach a decision. Kata returned to us and reported that the entire group had elected to remain on Ptallaya.

“None who arrived here from Koluwai remains, Mr. Fleischer. We were all born on Ptallaya. It is our true home, despite the traditions.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I think you’ve made the right choice. Gather food from the farms. Eat, then rest a while. We have a long journey ahead.”

We didn’t linger for long. The Heart of Blood was almost two-thirds sunk and time was running out. Shortly after the Koluwaians had filled their stomachs, the Zull flock descended and picked them up. We raced back to Thoomra.

The islanders were deposited a little to the west of the eyries, among the rolling hills and verdant forest. A large number of Zull remained with them and immediately set to work building houses in the trees and clearing land for vegetable farms. The rest of us continued on and found the eyries buzzing with activity. Thousands of Zull had gathered and weapons were being distributed among them. These “frequency cannons” had two parts. The first resembled a long straight tube. From the rear end of this, coiled cables stretched to the second, a box—ornate, in typical Zull fashion—with dials on its top and a plunger-like handle projecting from its side. To operate the device, one Zull balanced the tube on his shoulder and aimed it, while another, wearing the box strapped against his stomach, took readings and pressed the plunger to fix the sound output at the appropriate frequency.

Pistols, the same as those given to Clarissa and me, were also much in evidence.

I estimated that we had the equivalent of at least twenty-four hours to spare, so we returned to our house, where Colonel Spearjab immediately plunged into his bath and began to snore.

“He has the right idea,” I said. “We should sleep.”

Clarissa looked at me strangely.

“What is it?” I asked.

She stepped closer and rested her hands on my chest.

“You’ll really join the fighting?”

“Yes, of course. Our world is threatened.”

“Our world? Is it? I feel we belong here now. I don’t want to go back.”

My heart began to race.

“No. No, Clarissa. You’re right. I don’t want to return to Earth either. Nevertheless, we can’t allow it to be invaded.”

“But when the conflict is done, we can settle here, with the Zull?”

I thought about the man I’d been when she’d arrived on my doorstep, and recalled my parochial little vicarage in Theaston Vale with its dusty library and stultifying dullness. It filled me with disdain. It felt far more alien to me now than this world of three suns and bizarre creatures.

I put my hands over hers. “Yes, we can make our home here.”

“Together.”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

She sighed. “What you said.”

“Said?”

“When we were escaping from Phenadoor.”

I tried to respond but found myself unable to speak.

Clarissa smiled.

“I love you, too, Aiden Fleischer.” She leaned forward and put her lips to mine, then took me by the hand and led me into her room.





Clarissa was already awake, nestled against my shoulder, when I opened my eyes.

“You are most definitely not the man who answered the door to me all that time ago,” she whispered.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” I said drowsily. “Look at you!”

She giggled, and, after stretching a shapely leg into the air, sat up. “My metamorphosis is cosmetic, Aiden. As is yours—” Turning, she ran her fingers across the muscles of my stomach. “But with you there’s something more. A far deeper change.”

The last vestiges of sleep cleared. I propped myself up onto my elbows and looked into her startling eyes.

After a moment of thought, I said, “Cain and Abel.”

One of her eyebrows arched at this unanticipated turn in the conversation, creasing the skin around the little bump above it.

I went on, “It’s said that evil begets evil. I’ve always believed that, but it caused a crisis of faith in me, for, as you once pointed out, if you trace evil back to its source, you can’t stop at Cain but must continue on to God.”

“And how can we worship a God who’s capable of evil?” Clarissa responded.

“We can’t. And as the creation of one who begets evil, would we not all be Jekylls, liable to transform into Hydes at any moment?”

She suddenly blinked rapidly, gave a small exclamation, and said, “Gallokomas has just arrived on our terrace.”

The Zull’s voice sounded from my wrist. “Fleischer Thing!”

I pressed the tattoo and said, “Yes, Gallokomas?”

“The flock is gathering. Will you and your companions prepare yourselves, please?”

“Very well. We’ll be with you in a moment.”

Clarissa and I got up. She entered the washroom while I went to alert the colonel. When I rejoined her, I continued our conversation. “The Quintessence offered a solution to the dilemma. It suggested that, rather than being a product of God, evil is an entirely equal and opposite power.”

She wiped her face with a towel and gave a disdainful snort. “That doesn’t surprise me at all, Aiden. The Quintessence considers itself perfect. It makes the Mi’aata slaves to a moribund society in which all construction is nothing but pointless repetition. True creativity is suppressed. The trinity is blind to the iniquity of such a system. For the Quintessence, wrongdoing always comes from an exterior source, never from itself.”

“Which is why I can’t give credence to the notion of opposing deities,” I replied. “It makes of us a battleground and allows us to disavow all responsibility for what happens.”

We finished washing and re-entered the bedroom where we began to dress.

“Nor does it answer the essential question,” I continued. “Which is, if God didn’t create evil, what did? Something else? Do we now have to deny that God is the creator of all things? No, it won’t do.”

I buckled on my flight harness, feeling the comfortable weight of the pistol on my right hip and the sword on my left.

“What then, Aiden?”

“A chain of logic. If God is the epitome of good, there can be no evil in Him. If all things spring from Him, then they, too, must be comprised wholly of good. Therefore, evil is not a thing.”

“Have you forgotten London? Jack the Ripper was unquestionably evil!”

“We have to make a semantic transmutation. We must say, instead, that Jack the Ripper was catastrophically lacking in goodness.”

My companion scrutinized me thoughtfully. “Yes,” she said, slowly. “Yes. I see the implication. Altering the perspective suggests a richer purpose to the business of living.”

“Precisely. If you consider goodness as a spectrum, then at one end we have the unadulterated rectitude of God’s creation, and it is toward this that we must travel in our thoughts and actions. But if we become selfish, if we indulge in our lusts, our gluttony, our greed, or any of the other deadly sins, then we turn away and move in the direction of diminishing virtue. Thus life challenges us to resist temptation and do the right thing. Every correct moral decision moves us closer to God. Every moment of weakness takes us farther away.”

“Have you found faith at last, Aiden?”

“I can’t have faith in God any more than I can have faith in the sky. He may be goodness manifest, but I’ve seen nothing to suggest that He’s an interventionist. You were right to suggest that I’ve changed. I have. I’ve realised that, whatever world we happen to be on, we cannot afford any degree of dependence on a divine plan. It’s up to us to address iniquity and injustice, and to succeed, we must indeed have faith—not in God,” I placed a hand on the hilt of my sword, “but in ourselves.”

Clarissa smiled and murmured, “The voyage is complete.”