The Facts of the Matter--Pt. 9

The Simple Facts of the Matter—Pt. 9

While Kes busied herself in the clutter explosion that was once the kitchen, Gorynych settled herself comfortably at the living room table.  There were chairs, but Gorynych doubted they could support his massive bulk, so he squatted on his haunches with his tail coiled around him.  He started looking around at the many interesting things adorning the room.  Beautifully made clothing of sewn pelts and embroidery hung from the walls as well as the rafters, along with all kinds of ornamented objects.  He also noticed numerous shelves full of old books on plants and animal identification, carpentry and home improvement, woodcrafts, bush lore and trapping.
"Golly," murmured Gorynych in amazement. "Feels like I'm in a museum here."
 Something warm and furry brushed against his foreleg.  Looking down, he saw it was a young cat, a black and white tom with very big feet and feathered wings.  Gorynych reached out a scaly paw and gently stroked between the cat's head.  The tom gave a squeaky little mew and fluttered up, making himself comfortably on the dragon's head.  Gorynych could hear the cat's throaty rumbling like a distant drum roll.
Another young cat of the wingless variety, a brown and white tabby stalked gracefully into the room.  Upon seeing Gorynych, she immediately ran up and began rubbing herself ecstatically against his side and forelegs.  Then she scurried up and curled herself into a ball between his folded parasol wings.
Kes came in a moment later, her hair now dried and tied back with a bright yellow ribbon that matched her eyes.  She carried a large tray laden with dishes of cooked meat, mushrooms, and stir-fried vegetables with fat winkie grubs.  From behind, came Sigrid bringing another tray with a pitcher of lemonade and three large mugs.
Gorynych stared, greatly astonished at the sight of Kes now dressed in a stunning orange and gold dress.  Compared to the simple buckskins she wore earlier, she looked like an Ainsel princess that just stepped from a history book.
"There's was a bumper crop of Faerie Ring Champignons," she announced.  Then added in an annoyed tone.  "Oh, and Dre ruined nearly my entire supply of flour and spice, and I'll have to get some more in town."
Catching sight of Gorynych with the cats draped over him, she nearly dropped the tray in surprise.
"By Gumbal!" she exclaimed. "They like you!  They actually like you!"
"Why not?" the big dragon grinned sheepishly. "Cats always took a liking to me, perhaps I'm just a soft warm cushion to them and besides, I think they really sense my deep adoration for them."
Kes nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I quite adore them too," she said, placing the tray on the table.  She waited till Sigrid placed the lemonade tray on the table before setting into the chair. "I find I like cats more better than I like people."
Sigrid gave an indignant yarp, did a small jig before taking his seat.
"Wow!" Gorynych exclaimed in great admiration.
"Oh, yes!" Kes clapped her hands. "We mustn't forget the dogs of the world, especially the ones with hands."
Gorynych watched fascinated as Sigrid carefully got his portion of food and lemonade.  However, his table manners were still doglike since he didn't use any silverware.
"That's one smart puppy," said Gorynych as he took a mug of lemonade. "Did you train him to act like a person?"
Kes shook her head. "No, I didn't," she replied. "He was like that when I found him…or rather he found me.  Told me he was from North Huewardia and that he got taken captive by this creepy traveling carnival led by this bokar guy, and they made Sigrid into a clown dog, forced him to dance in silly costumes and do crazy, dangerous stunts like jumping through a flaming hoop and walking across a very high tightrope with several rodents balanced on his head." An angry gleam appeared in her eyes. "And do you know what happens when a circus slave makes the slightest mistake; if they refuse to do something so outrageous or humiliating for the show, or even if they make the slightest misstep while entering the ring?  They get punished with muzzles, whips and zap prods!  You think that's bad?  It gets worse, much worse!"
Sigrid looked up at Kes, gave a low whine, and then stuck his nose back into his dish.
"Yeah, sorry," Kes muttered, feeling herself blush. "Sigrid doesn't like to talk about it.  It would be too long and depressing a story to tell you anyway; all you need to know is that he escaped and he's now free to live his own life."
Gorynych sipped his lemonade thoughtfully. "Why didn't he go back to the wild after running away from the circus?"
Kes was silent for a moment. "Maybe because as hard as life was in the circus, it was still better than living in the wild," she said finally. "Always being hungry and sometimes being forced to live on frogs and slugs, raw, cold and slimy frogs and slugs."
Gorynych nodded sympathetically.  He took his dish and began filling it with some modest portions of food.  
He already had a large breakfast earlier.  The dragon paused when he came to the grub stir-fry.
Kes smiled, seeing his hesitation. "Go ahead," she said, "have all you want.  They won't bite.  I took the precaution of removing all their little claws and nippers."
Satisfied the dragon got enough grubs, Kes began filling her plate until it resembled a miniature mountain.
Gorynych stared at her with dismay as he very neatly speared a piece of venison with some chopsticks.  For such a small slim person, Kes ate a lot and with such gusto.  Living out in the woods can sure work up an appetite, he thought. I wonder if she was an athlete once, she's certainly built like one.  He also wondered how old she was.  His skin was flawlessly smooth and unlined, not like what you expect to find in a forester.  She was the most beautiful thing he'd seen since coming to this floating continent.  Well, almost; there was that leafy drakaina who was in his Organic Architecture class.
"So you name is Kes Allyntahl," said Gorynych quizzically.
"Uh-huh," said Kes, munching on greens.  Hesitantly, Gorynych ate a grub; it tasted buttery with a hint of wood.  He tried another one. "That name wouldn't happen to be an Ainsel name, by any chance?  It sounds like something an Ainsel might use."
Kes shrugged as she sampled some cuts of pork, leaning over so that her plate would catch the drips.
"I haven't the foggiest idea where the name originated," she replied. "All I know is that it's from a character in a popular detective series."
"Oh?" Gorynych's literary interests were soon piqued. "What series would that be?"
"The Inspector Basilarth series by Pinkie Burn and Ploffinborf."
Gorynych's eyes widened like green saucers.  He spluttered on his lemonade. "Wait, that famous detective writing duo from Tweedsmuir, New Enfield?  The very same geniuses that came up with wildly inventive bobby traps and a gallery of formidable supervillians?"
"Oh, those villains were nothing," said Kes, waving her head dismissively. "Compared to the lady cat burglar, Kes Allyntahl, they were all just a small-minded bunch of fairground carnies.  At least she had depth as well as sheer brilliance.  Quite different from other villains in the series like the Skomorokh in that she was never a killer or evil."
"Yes, yes, I remember now," Gorynych laughed. "Quite a character she was.  Always in creepy mime makeup and wearing that black leather getup with the infrared goggles on her hood, and those retractable metal claws on her gloves and boots.  I always saw her as a kind of femme fatale who was always running circles around the rather bumbling policemen and detectives trying to catch and reform her.  No wonder Inspector Basilarth called her 'La panthère fantôme (The Ghost Panther).'' He then gave her a baffled look. "Why would your parents name you after a supervillianess?"
"They didn't name me that," said Kes, flaring her nostrils indignantly. "I renamed myself.  I happened to be a great admirer of that anti-heroine character because she was feisty, independent, and didn't care at all about proper lady etiquette…"
"So you decided to name yourself after an über-lady vamp/anarchist in a detective novel?" Gorynych stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.  "At the risk of me sounding like a snoop, what on Relmar possessed you to do that?"
Kes sighed wearily and buried her nose in her mug of lemonade.
"My old name wasn't a free name," she explained after a moment. "The Society, from which I'm from, gave me that name and with that a duty—to defy that duty and follow a new way was to invite trouble from the Ongrank."
"Ongrank?"
"Secret Police," Kes looked grim. "In my country, you don't mess with them.  So anyway, I changed my name and left to a new place so that trouble won't follow me by my old name."  She wiped her mouth fastidiously with a cloth napkin. "My old life isn't worth mentioning.  I'm free now.  I hunt in these hills and woods and roam about whenever I please with only the fur people and Ruk or company."
"Who's Ruk?" Gorynych asked.
"Oh, he's my Booberie bird," Kes proudly boasted, "he's the one who carried me and my cats from that sorry excuse of a homeland.  We crossed the entire Eastern Ocean till we got to this floating landmass with the giant funny balloons.  If you like, I could introduce him to you right now..."
She soon noticed Gorynych's crest looking a rather pale green.
"Ehh...begging your pardon," said Kes worriedly, "but you don't look at all well.  Are you sick?"
"The truth is," Gorynych admitted gloomily, "that Booberie birds regarded very young dragons as a real delicacy."
"Oh," said Kes startled. "Gee, I didn't know that.  The ones I know about are carrion and fish eaters.  I never heard of one attacking any livestock or people." She looked disappointed. "A Booberie bird's beak is pointed with a bit of a curve, rather than sharply hooked,like that of a Racori Audi.  This makes them poorly adapted for tearing prey to pieces.  Besides, Ruk may be big, but he's certainly not a fierce hunter of dragons, large or small."
Gorynych's crest fluctuated from light green to a lavender-gray.  It was rather interesting to watch.  Kes assumed that the color change was an indicator of the dragon's emotional state.  Blue and yellow was mellowness, green was fear, while lavender-gray meant slight unease.
"Well," said Gorynych greatly relieved, "you had me worried there, Kes.  For a moment there, I thought you brought over one of those fearsome hook beaks.
Kes frowned.  She was embarrassed and a trifle annoyed at the dragon's lack of ornithological knowledge.  Just because she lived in a city for most of her life didn't mean she was ignorant.  From memory alone, she could, with annoying accuracy, identify almost any bird or bird song at the snap of the finger.
Surely this dragon would know more than a humble Gerdin.  He was probably born surrounded by wilderness, instead of the while sterile walls of a public nursery.  Surely he would not get a small, but fearsome Racori Audi confused with a gigantic, but gentle Booberie bird, not unless he was a very young and foolish creature.
"So how old are you exactly?" she asked abruptly.
Gorynych pricked his pink seashell ears in surprise at Kes's directness.
"I'm fifty-seven, still a teenager in dragon terms," he answered, "I'm also a sophomore at the Grosvern State University."
"You'll never guess how old I am," said Kes in a teasing tone.
Gorynych looked at her more closely.
"Twenty?" he hazard. "Twenty-one?"
Kes shook her head.
"Eighteen?  Nineteen?"
Gorynych rubbed the back of his neck.  
"Okay, okay.  I give up?" he said finally. "How about giving me a few hints?"
Kes laughed. "I was born in the Month of the Spiral Tiger in the Year of the Black Auroch.  My birthday starts around the same time as the same time as the Festival of the Rising Unicorn."
Gorynych thought for a while. The Month of the Spiral Tiger in the Year of the Black Auroch?  That would be in the Gerdin calender, the month of March, 1971.  While the Festival of the Unicorn celebrates the vernal equinox.
He gazed at her, incredulously. "You're thirty-eight?"
Kes beamed at him. "Chronological age," she explained. "Physically, I'm about sixteen.  That's what you get from sampling an Eastern island curry dish with magical properties.  Even my cats got a helping, and would you believe they were like eighteen when they first left Orrim."
"Really?" said Gorynych thoughtfully.
Tabitha had now wound herself round the dragon's neck like a striped stole while Grinçant was still asleep on his huge head.
"Looking at the cutie pies," said Gorynych, "I find it hard to believe they are both old fogies."
Yeah, he thought skeptically. I find it hard to believe there's even a curry of youth.  Sounds like a really tall tale tome.
Gorynych thought for a while. "Well, now that you're sixteen again," he said, "don't you want to go back to school, perhaps even get a teaching degree?"
Kes gave him an annoyed look.  Gorynych didn't blame her.  What difference did it make what she did with the rest of her life.
"I never had a chance to be a kid," she said sullenly, "never got a chance for actual fun.  Just put in long hours with little sleep to passing exams just to enter some prestigious private school.  I decided I wasn't going to be part of a system that teaches people to be slaves.  No way I was going to be trapped in some office job or in some arranged marriage.  So I took my cats and left it all behind."
Kes sighed.  She gazed down at the cup in her closed hands.  She could feel the gloominess closing silently about her in the room that had been so perfect, so bright and cheerful. No wonder I don't like having visitors.  Visitors just want to know everything about.
"But don't you feel bad about leaving all your friends behind." Gorynych looked at her with a worried frown. "Your family, the one that raised you...?"
Kes shook her head.
"No, I don't miss them one bit," There was bitterness in her voice. "I had no real friends nor family, only overseers and snitches.  I don't even know where my real family is even.  They're either dead or defected to somewhere."
Sigrid who was silent throughout the entire conversation whined sympathetically.
Kes took another sip of her lemonade. "Let's talk about something else for a change... like about the previous owner of my house—this Asira Ing."
"This used to be her study," said Gorynych reflectively as he gazed around the living room. "The last time I was here was in '59 when I was a wee hatchling of seven.  My parents brought me here to get my copy of her latest Sammy Bodger book autographed.  I still have it."
He gently removed the winged cat "hat" from his head.  Grinçant had been caught in a hectic mouse dream, and he accidentally nicked the delicate crest. "The place was a real mess.  The furniture was beyond repair--sagging, battered-looking things held together with horsehair.  The carpeting too was awful, rotted with mold and moths.  These was hardly anyplace to walk even, the floor was nearly covered with stacks of moldering brown books and dusty scrolls."
Kes raised an eyebrow. "Sounded like she was a hoarder."
"She was a hoarder and a hermit," Gorynych replied, "also a bibliophile who didn't give a damn about housekeeping or what people thought about her.  It's a wonder she didn't burn the place down--all those cheap tallow candles and oil lamps about the place."
Kes polished off her pile of mushrooms. "Probably didn't get a lot of visitors on account of the mess," she mumbled between mouthfuls. "Wonder what her cooking was like?"
Gorynych shuttered. "Oh, it was terrible!  Asira Ing's cooking would probably get the third worst cooking in the World reward, and possibly even the known Universe with the second and third category going to the trolds and the Gibblians on account of their food being raw or partially cooked."
Kes stared at him. "You're kidding me."
"I kid you not," said Gorynych defensively. "I remember on the day of my visit when she made these big round cookies for the week of Brax." He held up his scaly hands as if measuring an imaginary fish. "Blooming huge things the size of dinner plates and half an inch thick too.  They were simply dreadful--hard to chew, tasted like cardboard unless they were crammed thick with raisins, plums or dates.  Also she would throw a heck of a fit if you were 'rude and ungrateful' enough not to try one of her 'wholesome snicker doodles.'"
"Sounded like she might have had a few screws loose and rattling," Kes remarked thoughtfully.
"She was fine around her fans and fellow fantasists," Gorynych explained. "It's just she didn't get along well with the rest of her family."
"Nothing unusual about that," said Kes, now pushing her empty plate aside. "Lots of people don't get along well with their families.  Look at me, for instant.  I got a heap of problems with my assigned folks.  None of which is my fault, of course.  I was taken away from my real parents when I was a cub, because I was a twin and the government decreed that one twin be immediately separated and given to another family to raise, even if they're non-identical. " She sat back and folded her arms. "What I don't get is why this Asira Ing woman's known as a hermit.'  She doesn't strike me as an actual hermit to me; a true hermit craves no company.  Besides why would she go through all the trouble inviting people to her filth pile of a house?"
"Well, a person who's pretty outgoing could at the same time be a hermit," Gorynych replied, "while Asira was polite to visitors and was able to discuss a great deal on literature with them, she was at the same time, a bookish reclusive individual who lived here all alone.  Definitely not the rough-and-ready sort like you, instead she was sickly and rather scatter-brained."
"Probably from a lack of proper exercise," Kes muttered.  She brushed the crumbs of food that had fallen onto her tunic. "Was she a city person?"
"No, local woman," replied Gorynych, "she moved out of the mansion she had inherited from her aunt and into this place.  Around 1921 it was.  According to local gossip, Asira got more than enough to live on from the inheritance, but because of bad health and constant dread of road accidents, she never traveled much nor far from her hometown.  Her aunt was pretty much to blame for this because she was one of those over-protective and doting people, so it was no wonder that Asira wanted nothing to do the Ing Mansion.  Too many bad memories I guess."
"Ahh, the ties that bind," said Kes, nodding grimly. "I heard of the same thing.  That's one way to ruin a kid, fuss over it, at the same time stifle its freedom."
"Definitely, apron strings in this case," Gorynych replied solemnly. "Poor girl never got free of them when she was growing up, never was allowed out by herself, rarely ever got a chance to play with the other children, not only that her two older sisters hated her.  Twin terrors they were and still are; I'm afraid.  I guess they were extremely jealous since they were rather homely-looking as well as being awkward, and ungainly. "
"Was Asira pretty?" Kes asked, licking her lips for stray crumbs.  She didn't envision the woman as pretty.  In her mind, Asira was a mousy bespectacled individual whose hair and skin was as gray as wet clay—kind of like a trow.
"She was," Gorynych replied, "very pretty by Ainsel standards, a High One and Full Blood too so she wasn't subjected to the aging effects of humans and half breeds.  She would have been 121 today—a full adult destined to live many centuries more. You wouldn't think of her as someone who lives deep in the woods.  She was pale and delicate-looking with reddish-gold hair.  She had only one flaw, however, and that was her nails."
"Why was that?" asked Kes.
"She had a nasty habit of biting them," Gorynych replied, cradling his teacup between his hands. "When ever she got nervous, she would open her mouth, pop them in, and start gnawing.  Chewed them way back."
"Now, that's really disgusting," she remarked with a grimace. "I thought Ainsels showed more class than that."
"Ainsels can be just as flawed as ordinary humans," said Gorynych, looking deeply into her eyes. "That's what you get from being born mortal.  But Asira was a saint compared to her twin sisters.  Lying cheats and spendthrifts, definitely not paragons of Ainsels virtue.  Without their pointy ears and lightning quickness you might even mistaken them as humans."
"So what eventually happened to Asira Ing?" said Kes, looking at Gorynych inquiringly. "You said earlier she might have died here."
"Nobody knows for sure," Gorynych answered with a solemn shrug. "She just disappeared."


Kiki, meanwhile, was still on the phone, but she was now bawling.
"Grandma, could you come get us, please?" she cried. "My purse is in my backpack, which is still in the luggage cart, and they're still soaking and fumigating it."
"Now calm down, honey," said Grandma Esmé, consolingly. "What about your sister?  Doesn't she have money?"
Kiki sniffled and wiped away her tears with her sleeve.
"Not very much," she answered. "Mom thinks she going to splurge it on sweets and other worthless junk"
"And does she?" asked Grandma Esmé.
"Not to my knowledge," replied Kiki.
Grandma Esmé sighed heavily.
"I think your mother overreacts sometimes," she said.
"Well, Tullugaq tends to do some really obnoxious things," said Kiki, reflectively. "So, it isn't surprising the Mom tends to watch her closely."
"Too closely, if you ask me," muttered Grandma Esmé .
"What's that, Grandma?" asked Kiki.
"Oh, nothing, dear," Grandma Esmé replied. "Just clearing my throat."
Kiki turned and looked at the scene behind her.  The smoke had pretty much dissipated from the thoroughly soaked carriage.  The fire company was rolling up the hoses, while the exterminators were busily sweeping up the lice and putting them in large sacks.  They were now whistling and singing off-key an old Bluggerwart song called "The White Cliffs of Dover."  Kiki wished they would sing something else.  She felt quite ill when she thought about what would have happened had she been caught under that crawling, ravenous carpet.
A few minute later, the fire truck left.  As soon as the barricades were taken down, the passengers crept cautiously forward, anxious to collect their bags, but nervous about any stray lice lurking about.
"Oh, I think they're letting people get their stuff," said Kiki, cheering up a bit. "I hope the luggage inside didn't get wet."
"I'm sure it didn't," said Grandma Esmé, hopefully. "Listen, you just wait till the bug smoke has cleared up a bit.  The stuff can really be noxious.  Oh, can you find a place to wait, say, within the vicinity of Lugar?"
"Well, how about The Gourmet Insectivore?" said Kiki. "There's some benches out front, I could just wait there.  I don't think if they're going to let people back on that bus again."
"Most likely not," said Grandma Esmé, "I can still hear that Greebik driver.  I think his nerves are just about frazzled.  Look, try finding Tullugaq first.  By the way, did you have some lunch?"
"Yes," replied Kiki, "I think it could last me through an hour and a half of waiting."
"All rightly then," said Grandma Esmé. "I'll meet you girls in front of The Gourmet Insectivore at about half-past five.  It might take me awhile, because I have to go and get dress."
"Okay," said Kiki. "I'm going to get my stuff now, then I'll go look for Tullugaq."
"Oh, right, dear," said Grandma Esmé. "Just be careful when you go looking.  I don't want you getting hit by a car, or getting snatched by some demon or slomgath.  Evil people are most polite when they're going to do something nasty."
"All right, Grandma," said Kiki, rolling her eyes. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." She then added. "It's Tullugaq you should be more worried about.  She doesn't have enough commonsense."
"Listen to me carefully, Kiki," said Grandma Esmé, firmly. "Tullugaq has plenty of commonsense, as well as wild sense.  It anyone tried to grab her, they'll get a face full of claws and fangs for their troubles.  This is your first time to be stranded in a strange town, so take care until I get there."
"I'll be careful," said Kiki, sulkily.
She wanted to argue, but she knew it wouldn't do any good.  Grandma was a lot like Tullugaq in her youth-mischievous and ornery.
"Good," answered Grandma Esmé . "I'll be there at about five-thirty, I promise.  See you soon."
"See you," said Kiki glumly.
Sighing heavily, she hung up.  She then noticed a frog-faced Marsh-Dweller waiting impatiently outside, tapping his foot and frowning.  Staring grumpily at her, he pointed to his pocket watch.
Embarrassed, Kiki hurried out of the phone booth and into the summer sunshine.  She sighed again as she walked back toward the stranded Greebik.  
Where, thought Kiki irritably, is that wretched Tullugaq?
At this very moment, Tullugaq was making her way back up Lugar.  Having completely recovered from her close encounter with Wilkie, she was even more determined to get her satchel back.  Loping through the forest of legs as a bloodhound, she searched the ground with her droopy muzzle.
The smells flowed up from the pavement like spirals of dust.  Her nose took all of these in, sorted them out, and then filed them to memory.  She didn't find what she wanted, but still pressed on determinedly.
Seconds later her luck turned when her extremely sensitive nose caught the whiff of tanned and oiled cowhide.  Snuffling loudly, Tullugaq reexamined the tantalizing fragrance.  A gleam of triumph arose in her rheumy eyes and her tail began to waggle rapidly.  There was no mistake; somewhere up ahead was the satchel, as well as the thief who smelled strongly of apple blossoms.
The interior of The Gourmet Insectivore was comfortably decorated; elaborated, warm-colored woodwork blended with the cultivated palm and ferns, cushioned seats and booths added to the cozy atmosphere.
"Three teas, please," Asp said to the Whirlblee waitress, when she seated them at their table, "and three orders of Wilarrie grubs."
"Make mine a glass of gall and vinegar instead," murmured Wilkie, still recovering from his fright.
The Whirlblee ruffled her feathers in agitation." Sir, we only serve a selection of bug juice and fine beverages."
"All right, bring me a glass of millipede juice then," said Wilkie.
"Very well, sir."
As soon as the waitress left, Asp said in a skeptical tone.  "You sure you weren't hallucinating, Wilkie?  You spent half the afternoon shut up in a bottle, which possibly had some unwholesome residue leftover from one of Arthur's potions."
Wilkie shook his head rapidly. "I wasn't hallucinating!" he exclaimed furiously. "I really did see a slomgath!"
"Hey, keep your voice down!" Arthur was looking around furtively, making sure they weren't being overheard. "You want the forces of darkness to know you're onto them?"
"So you say you saw a slomgath?" said Asp.  He leaned back in his chair and regarded Wilkie narrowly. "Could you tell me what this evildoer looked like exactly, cause I wasn't there?"
The ghul and Ainsel glanced at each other.  Wilkie fidgeted, while Arthur unfolded his napkin.
"Uh, Gerhardt," said Wilkie nervously, "why, don't you tell him?"
Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Sorry to disappoint you, Wilkie, but all I saw was shapely blonde sylph with a tongue that would shame a chameleon."
"What?" Wilkie burst out. "You didn't see her face change?"
"Well, " Arthur replied gravely, "I was reeling from nearly being swallowed whole at the time."
"I don't believe this!" Wilkie threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes upward. "From the way you were buzzing around her, I thought you were onto something," he said disgustedly. "Now it turns out you were just ogling like an old goat!"
"I was doing nothing of the sort!" Arthur protested indignantly. "I just got this creepy feeling about her, and she was also afraid of flies."
"Well, there's a sure sign of evil," said Asp sarcastically, "insectophobia (fear of insects).  I have a cousin who's really afraid of mushrooms, and he's a harmless biologist."
"I know it doesn't sound like much," said Arthur firmly, "but according to the legends, slomgaths have a morbid fear of insects, and also of some birds-owls, ravens, chimney swifts, parrots.  It's believed that these creatures have the ability to detect and defeat a slomgath's evil magic."
"Ahh, excuse me," Asp interrupted, "but I'm still waiting in suspense for Wilkie to tell his blood-curdling tale."
Wilkie shuddered.  He was silent for a moment, and when he did speak, it was barely above a whisper.
"Did I just imagine the whole thing?" he said. "If Arthur and a whole lot of other people didn't see it," He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands, "does that mean I'm going bonkers?"
"No, it simply means you have the ability to see past this creature's disguise," Asp reassured.
"Oh good," said Wilkie, feeling quite relieved. "I thought being stuck in that wretched bottle for so long might have addled my brain. "Turns out I wasn't hallucinating after all."
The waitress arrived with the hot tea, millipede juice, and three large dishes of sliced Willarie grub.  When she went away, Asp said impatiently, "Well, go on.  What did this thing look like then?"
"Like a unwrapped mummy," Wilkie replied promptly, "with ragged black hair and eyes sockets full of red squiggly worms, and it smelled terrible too-like Death dried up three times over."
Asp's eyebrows went up. "If it was that kind of thing," he said, surprised, "then I don't know why you were so terrified of it?  You're a ghul for Kuriki's sake, I thought you people weren't suppose to afraid of dead things; let alone living dead things."
"Well, this was different," said Wilkie with a slight shiver. "What confronted me on that street was no annoying escapee from some cemetery.  This was something far more worse.  I didn't know it at first, I thought she was just a nice, charming Ainsel woman wanting to return some Changer girl her satchel…"
"Tullugaq?" exclaimed Asp, sitting up in his seat. "The girl in the green dress?  You met her?"
Wilkie nodded. "Sure did.  She rescued me from the bottle, but took off before I could thank her.  Rather skittish, I must say."
"Uh-huh," said Asp, eyeing him skeptically.  He was pretty suspicious about the "skittish" part.  The ghul must have been pretty crabby when he finally emerged from his prison, and probably a fearful sight to his rescuer.
"Well anyway," Wilkie continued, "as I was saying before, as soon as Tullugaq left, this golden-haired woman showed up, wanting to return the girl's satchel.  As I was talking to her, she started to freak out because Arthur was buzzing around her, which wasn't at all surprising, seeing as he was a horsefly at the time.  I didn't actually see her try to eat him, because I was too busy giving directions.  But no sooner did she spit him out, she started having something like an allergic reaction, and that's when I saw her face change into that fright mask.  It happened only for a moment, but it was enough to give me nightmares."
Asp stared.  A ghul having nightmares?  Now this was something new.   He asked, "Did she say what her name was?"
Wilkie frowned, trying to remember. "Oh, Gods! What was her name?"  He muttered. "Was it Nell?  No, that can't be right.  Nina?"  Then his eyes lit up. "Niamh!   That's the one!  Niamh!  Niamh the Golden!"  
Arthur stopped chewing his grub steak. "Did you say Niamh?" he asked, with his mouth full.
"Yes," said Wilkie, curiously. "Does the name sound familiar?"
Arthur swallowed his food. "Yes, it does," he said. "It's from the old Irish legends of Earth."
"Oh," said Asp, surprisedly, "and this Niamh, was she an Ainsel?"
"A Tuatha," Arthur explained. "That's what they were called when they were at the height of their power; the Tuatha De Danann.  However, with the encroachment of humans and Christianity, they fled underground where they became the Daoine Sidhe.  But going back to Niamh of the Golden Hair, she was a Tuatha princess and her father was Manannan Mac Lir, the chief god of the sea."
"Where is she now?" Asp abruptly asked.
"Dead."
"Dead?" Asp repeated curiously "How come?  I thought the heroic kind of Ainsels lived forever."
"She died of grief after her mortal husband, Oisin went to visit his homeland and grew old when he accidentally touched earthly soil."
"Bummer," Asp muttered.
"Well, that's humans for you," Arthur sighed. "They never learn that time marches very slowly in Faerie."
"So this lady's been dead for how long?" Wilkie asked curiously.
Arthur shrugged. "I don't know exactly," he replied. "Two millenniums. Three millenniums.  It was in the days before recorded writing."
"So what I saw wasn't the real Niamh?"
"Of course not!" said Arthur crossly. "What you saw was a vile sorceress masquerading as an Ainsel of noble blood."
"Come to think of it," Asp said uncomfortably, "who is this phony Niamh?  The first time I heard of her was from Tullugaq's little sister, Kiki.  She mentioned she sat next to this woman on the bus."
"Well, why didn't you tell us this before?" Arthur demanded irritably.
"Because I just forgot," Asp said testily. "That's all.  I didn't think it was anything important at the time."
There was silence.  Arthur frowned, deeply puzzled.  "I wonder," he said finally, "is this slomgath just being a Good Samaritan by trying to return a lost satchel, or is she up to something?"
"Well, I don't see anything suspicious about wanting to return a lost satchel," Asp remarked, drumming his fingers against the table top.   "Perhaps we're greatly mistaken about this Niamh the Golden…she could be a reformed slomgath."
Wilkie gave Asp a disgusted look. "Aww, give me a break, Asp!" he snapped. "If you saw what I had seen, you'd have a much different opinion.  There was nothing friendly about that shriveled up, skin-and-bones thing."
Arthur nodded. "I'm Wilkie may be right," he said gravely. "Slomgaths are treacherous by nature, and can never be trusted.  They're meaner than a rabid hyena with a toothache.  A slomgath would rather bite your face off than wish you a good morning."
"What I want to know is," Asp said philosophically, "how this slomgath get a hold of Tullugaq's satchel?  And why would she take it in the first place?"
"Well, that's not too hard to explain," Arthur replied, "seeing Tullugaq in her fancy green dress, Niamh the Golden AKA 'The Slomgath' made the assumption that she was a rich kid.  Being a diligent and intellectual kind of criminal, Niamh decided to wait for the right opportunity, and that came when Asp decided to get even with a pesky horde of Gibblians…"
Asp stared hard at Arthur. "How in Draumgurgle did you know about my revenge spell?" he asked sharply.
"My pointed ears picked up everything," Arthur explained cheerfully, "I may be old and wrinkled, but my hearing's still in tip-top condition.  Anyway, going back to my theory, Niamh snatched the satchel, thinking there was a purse of money cached away in there…"
"Yeah, but why draw attention to herself by trying to return the spoils?" Asp asked abruptly. "For a thief, that's a rather foolish thing to do.  Why not just leave the loot under a bush or turn it in the nearest lost-and-found?"
Arthur looked thoughtful. "Good point," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "Well, all I can say is."
"She's not after money," Wilkie cut in. "She's after something else of Tullugaq's."
Arthur stared at him. "What on Relmar do you mean?" he asked, bewildered. "You're making absolutely no sense!"
"I'm making perfect sense!" said Wilkie disdainfully. "It's you who's greatly mistaken.  You seemed to think that the forces of evil operate solely on the principle of greed."  Then turning to Asp, he asked, "Did you happened to see what Tullugaq had in her satchel?"
Asp shrugged. "Just a stuffed Wymble," he replied. "That's the reason why I laid that curse of Everlasting Cooties upon those Gibblians' heads.  They were playing 'keep away' with her favorite toy."
Wilkie nodded, staring at him. "Did she show you anything else?"
"Well," said Asp, thinking back, "she showed off some stuff she got in Neptha Bay.  Bought them from this mess of a store called 'The Cheerful Dragon's Antique and Books.'"
Arthur's eyes widened. "Hey, I know that place!" he exclaimed. "That store's as hazardous as a booby trapped jungle temple!  Seems like every customer who shops there winds up with a string of bad luck or a shortened lifespan."
Asp gave Arthur a curious glance, then he continued, "There were two things; a strange mirror shaped like a lamp-chimney and a red book wrapped up in a white silk ribbon with this centipede seal on it.  Maureen said the book was just a fancy journey, but I had my doubts, especially after what Tullugaq told me next.   Have you ever heard of an monster artist named Jules Gurkle?"
"No," said Arthur.
"I have," said Wilkie with interest. "Wasn't he that chap they found mummified in his bedroom?  He was supposedly fooling around with some sort of black magic and whatever it was he called up got him."
Asp nodded. "Yep, he's the one.  Tullugaq claimed the stuff she bought once belonged to him."
Arthur gave a strangled sort of gasp that startled them both.  He clapped his hand to his mouth and sweet beads were breaking out on his forehead.
"By the Great River of Souls!" he exclaimed, trembling with horror. "I just remembered."
"What?" Asp demanded aggrievedly.
"What I was going to tell you guys just before I got woozy," Arthur replied.
"That was her!  The one I sensed earlier on the bus!  The one from Old Earth!  She after something, no doubt, and I bet you one hundred razoolies it's that book and mirror of Tullugaq's!" Abruptly he leaned forward, both Wilkie and Asp drew back nervously.
"We got to find Tullugaq before that slomgath does!" he went on excitedly. "Once we get a hold of that book and mirror!" He jumped as a shadow fell across him.
It was only Maureen, wanting to know why her husband was having a "tea party" when he should be helping her retrieve their luggage.


Kes's eyes grew wide with bewilderment.
"Di-disappeared?" she sputtered.
"Oh yes, disappeared this very same month," Gorynych affirmed, his crest turning lavender-gray with nervousness. "Very mysteriously too.  Happened in the middle of my sophomore year in high school in '69."
"Along with her stuff?" Kes abruptly asked. "Cause the house was totally empty when I moved in."
"Oh, well, her twin sisters eventually had all of Asira's stuff taken out and divvied up what they didn't sell, said Gorynych, rolling his eyes in disapproval. "As I said earlier, Asira and her sisters weren't very close.  They had absolutely nothing in common.  She was frugal and responsible and the other two were con artists and spendthrifts.  I think that was the main reason why the aunt decided to cut them out of her will as well kick them out the mansion.  Even when they came back to live as tenant-caretakers in that place when Asira finally moved out; they still came calling on her when they needed money "
"So are there any other surviving relatives besides these two sisters?" asked Kes.
"I think there might have been a cousin on their mother's side," he replied, "but they haven't been able to trace him."
Kes shook her head in perplexity. "So I guess the Ing Mansion automatically went to them then?" she said. "Though I think you have to wait seven years before someone's legally declared dead.  " She looked at Gorynych inquiringly. "So how long has it been since Asira's disappearance?"
"About forty-eight years ago," he told her. "Shortly after Asira went missing, the sisters tried turning their old ancestral home into a rooming house, had a lot of trouble with it though. The tenants who moved in stayed no more than a few days, and some didn't even bother packing all their stuff.  None of them gave a real reason for their hasty departure.  Just complained about various things--rising damp, an invasion of vermin, cold drafts late at night.   Eventually, they gave up on the place, and it's been deserted ever since."
"Wow, that's pretty weird," muttered Kes. "Hey, speaking of which, was Asira pretty weird herself?"
"Well, according to what I read; Asira Ing was a very peculiar woman," Gorynych went on, narrowing his eyes reflectively, "always went out dressed in a gray monk's robe with matching gray gloves and suede boots.  Only came to town for her weekly grocery shopping and to attend any important business with her publishers or the local Writer's Guild.   So when she failed to show up for three weeks, many people went looking for her."
"No known enemies, other than her two greedy sisters?"
"None what-so-ever.  It appears she was well-liked despite her numerous eccentricities."
Kes thought for a minute. "Perhaps she got eaten up by a owl bear," she suggested. "The owl bears around here can be awfully fierce."
"Highly unlikely," said Gorynych. "She was such a fierce little bird, and an awfully good shot with a needle gun too."
Kes was silent a bit. "You know," she said finally, "Asira could have just gotten tired of her sisters following her around and asking for money.  Maybe she just decided to up and leave one day.  Maybe go to the Wind-City."
"Yeah, but why leave all your stuff behind for your grasping siblings to grab?" Gorynych exclaimed. "Why suddenly travel if it makes you nervous and afraid?  And there's that bit of weirdness about the bathtub, not to mention the smell."
"Huh?" said Kes with widening eyes. "What's all this business about the bathtub and the smell?"
Gorynych leaned forward conspiratorially. "Look, I don't want to scare you with any of this creepy stuff," he cautioned, "but something really horrible happened in this very house."
"Please," said Kes, waving her hand dismissively, "you're talking to someone who has hunted owl bear and wild baedd with only a bow and arrow, who has been in the forest during a raging hurricane, and who once met a poisonous snarff while picking mûres fruit.  Why would I scared over a simply spook story?"
"Because this is a true story," said Gorynych with a noticeable shutter--his crest shifting a shade greener, "even though this all happened a long time ago."  Then he began telling her everything in very hushed tones.  "When the search party went to the house to see if anything was wrong, they found the front door locked.  After knocking several times, they finally forced open the door, they discovered the front door was not only was locked, but also glued and taped shut.  Walking through the house, they discovered every window was the same as the door—tape and glue all over every crack.  They started to smell something very faint. It was barely noticeable at first.  Going in, they found the back door in the same condition as the front and windows."
Kes suddenly felt all goose pimply.   Chez, will you get a grip, she told herself. Nothing supernatural happened here!  The lady was probably nuts, probably had paranoid delusions about burglars and her sisters stealing her stuff!
Gorynych paused long enough to finish his tea. "The whole house was also icy cold," he continued, "so cold that the people could see their clouds of breath, and the strange smell that was in the air grew more overbearing as they went toward the upstairs bedroom.  It was like something like stale meat yet soft scented like honey mixed with decayed tropical flowers.  However, nothing seemed amiss in the bedroom, just a messy bed and some clothes scattered around.
"Although there were recent signs of occupancy—a half-emptied bag of groceries in the kitchen and a log fire ready to be lit in the living room, no one had been there in quite a while.  They searched some more and soon discovered the door to the bathroom was also locked, and after knocking a few times and getting no response, they decided to force it open, and what did they find? Once again, glue and tape sealing up every crack.  When they looked in the tub, they discovered a disturbing sight…"  
"Asira dead clutching a large butcher knife in one hand and some deadly nightshade in the other?" Kes piped up.
"No, nothing like that."
Sigrid who was listening quietly to Gorynych's tale with his ears pricked, uttered a shrill tchrring sound.  
"A pile of well-chewed bones," Kes translated.
"Not even close."
"What then?" Kes asked impatiently.
"Asira's clothes in a pile and all her hair," was the reply.
A few minutes of silence followed.  Then Gorynych continued, his voice barely above a whisper.  "There was still some scalp still attached to the hair."
For a moment, Kes and Sigrid sat motionless, staring at Gorynych with wide bulging eyes.
"It had to be a joke!" Kes finally burst out, though she felt cold chills racing up and down his back.  "A great bloody joke!  Nothing creepy happened to that Asira lady!  She just staged an elaborate ruse to start a new identity somewhere.  Be rid forever of her two loathsome sisters and her embarrasing trash heap of a life! "
Gorynych nodded sagely. "That's what some say," he said quietly, "still other say it was the work of slomgath witches, and a few say that she was a slomgath herself and decided to discard her old body for a much newer model.  Asira into black magic?" His crest suddenly flared a deep violet red. "Idiot gossips!" he growled. "Asira may have been an eccentric, but she was definitely not crazy!"
"Oh sure, whatever you say," agreed Kes, although she knew very little about this woman other then she was an eccentric fantasy writer who was a lousy cook and house keeper, and had an on-going feud with her money-grubbing twin sisters.
The red flush soon faded from Gorynych's head, and he gave her a steady look. "However," he said under his breath, "there are those who say differently."
"Like what?" asked Kes, trying to ignore that prickling sensation at the back of her neck.
"Well," said Gorynych, "they say that she had been spirited away by a Sokhar."
Kes gave him a baffled look.  She had never heard of the name before. "And what pray tell is a Sokhar?" she asked. "One of those really ferocious pirates from the Eastern Seas?"
"Worse," Gorynych replied grimly. "One of the most nightmarish of monsters imaginable.  They are an old race, older than even my people.  It is said that they rule over that dread place known as Baalabreken, the Desert of the Dead Gods which is situated around Hell."
"So these things are actually fire spirits, like the ifrits and jinns?"
"Yes, I do believe they're in the same family.  They all came out of the molten earth at the beginning of time."
"Aren't ifrits and jinns dangerous too?" asked Kes.
"Yes," Gorynych answered, "both can be dangerous if provoked, but at least they have a conscience, and could listen to reason."
Kes frowned; still not convinced that such a fiend could actually exist. "And a Sokhar doesn't have a conscience?"
"Damned right they don't!" Gorynych exclaimed. "They're things of pure evil!  A Sokhar can swear by its right hand not to harm you, yet will stick you with its left fore-claw the moment your back is turned."
"Oh," said Kes, fidgeting uneasily.  Some week this was turning out to be.  First a skunk moves in under the house then some dragon pops in for a visit.  Now he's telling me that some monster from the spirit world may have made off with the previous house owner.  No wonder I'm suddenly developing a tic!
"Listen," she said, somewhat sheepishly, "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but I don't believe in evil spirits, just in misunderstood ones."
Sigrid nodded, chirping an agreement.
"Think what you like," said Gorynych crisply. "But the fact is, Kes, Asira Ing didn't just up and disappear on her accord.  Some eon-spawned evil made her disappear."
Kes stared at him in dismay. "You really are serious about these things?"
Gorynych nodded grimly. "Quite serious.  There have been similar disappearances all over the world.  Coincidence?  I don't think so."
"I think you're just trying to scare me," said Kes rather skeptically. "You're trying to get me to move because of those troublesome twin sisters."
"I'm trying to make sure the same thing that happened to Asira doesn't happen to you," said Gorynych soberly. "There's evil at work in the world, just because you live on a floating island doesn't make you immune to it."
Kes decided it was time to change the subject. "What do these things look like anyway?" she asked.
"They're shape-shifters," Gorynych replied. "They can look like just about anything--"
Kes's eyes popped open. "Anything?" she blurted. "Does that mean including inanimate objects?" She looked wildly about the living room.  Any one of those furnishing might be a lurking Sokhar in disguise.
Sigrid bristled slightly, whimpering nervously.
"You don't have to worry about your belongings," Gorynych reassured her. "They can only take on the forms of people and animals."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Kes cried, still feeling paranoid. "Now I'm going to have to be really extra cautious whenever I go outside, I might end up meeting something that suddenly morphs into a ravenous monster!"
"Jeez," Gorynych muttered under his breath. "Sorry, I shouldn't have told you this.  Maybe it would have been better if I had just kept my mouth shut about this place."
Kes frowned at him. "Yeah, you should of!" she grumbled. "Now I'm going all to pieces over this Sokhar bogeyman of yours.  How do I know for sure you're not one yourself?"
Gorynych then pointed to his eyes. "Look carefully at my pupils," he said, "and tell me what you see."
Cautiously, Kes leaned forward and peered into both of Gorynych's eyes.
"I don't see anything amiss," said Kes, after a moment of looking. "There's just a big black dot with my reflection in the middle."
"That's what you're suppose to see in a normal creature," Gorynych told her. "Had I been a Sokhar instead, you would see blue, silvery-tipped flames dancing in the very center of the pupil."
"What about the rest of the eye?" she asked.
"Nothing unusual about it in the daylight," Gorynych replied. "However at night, the irises of Sokhars will shine a brilliant silver."
"Well that should be easy to spot!" exclaimed Kes.
"Not if they're wearing sunglasses or contact lenses," Gorynych muttered darkly.
"But don't they have to remove their shades and contacts whenever they change their shape?"
Gorynych shrugged. "Yes, but an Sokhar will never do a dumb thing like allowing itself to be seen while changing."
"Eyes alone aren't enough to go on," said Kes. "What other ominous things should I be looking out for?"
"Although it can change its appearance," Gorynych replied, "it cannot change the color of its toe and finger-nails."
"And what color are its nails?" she asked him.
"Bluish-gray on all but the left index finger.  It has a knife-like talon instead."
"But such things could be covered up with gloves and shoes," said Kes, half-exasperatedly. "Isn't there anything more obvious to look for in order to recognize a Sokhar?  What about looking at its reflection in a mirror or in running water?"
Gorynych sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, no," he muttered. "When viewed in water or any polished surface, its real form remains disguised."
"Did you ever see one before?" Kes asked nervously.
"I never saw a Sokhar in its real form," Gorynych replied with a slight shiver, "but I know of a few people who had the misfortune of seeing evil incarnate."
"Well?" Kes asked impatiently. "What did they say?"
Gorynych spoke gravely. "There was only one person who would tell me of his experience.  The rest had either refused to speak of the thing or wouldn't elaborate on the horrible details.  Although he twitched a lot and could barely stammer out a complete sentence, still he told me about what happened in'78 when he and three of his buddies broke into the supposedly deserted old Ing Mansion--"
"And what did this man tell you?" she asked, feeling really uncomfortable.
Gorynych looked uncertainly at Kes. "You sure you want to hear this?  It might give you bad dreams."
"Hey, I can handle it," Kes muttered. "I'm no shrinking violet, you know?"
"Okay, then," he cleared his throat, and then continued. "So these four adventures began wandering about downstairs, poking around closets and old bureaus.  But they didn't find anything exciting or valuable, just heaps of moldering clothes, toys, and other miscellaneous junk.
"Winter hadn't set in yet, but it was growing quite cold and they didn't want to be trapped there during a blizzard.  As they were getting ready to leave, a sound came to their ears.  It sounded like someone was walking back and forth upstairs.  When one of the guys hollered out,     'Hey, who's the heck's up there?' the footsteps abruptly ceased.
"Somehow they summoned up enough will power to light some candles and go up the creaky stairs.  At the far end of a long corridor, they came a door.  It took them a while to get up the courage to open the door, but open it they did."
"And then what?" Kes asked, leaning forward.
"There was nobody there," Gorynych went on in a low voice. "But they did see footprints in the thick dust layering the floor, and these led to a large mirror on the other side of the attic.
"Then all of a sudden, the room became ice cold, and their candles guttered and went out. The mirror became black as pitch, and greenish fire flickered across its surface, illuminating a skull-like face with thin, grayish-white skin drawn tightly over its features.   There was no hair, instead; a squirming mass of maggot-like worms writhed over its head.  Most horrible of all were the eyes, for they were nothing more than empty sockets with blue-silvery flames in the center of them."
Kes shuttered. "Chez!" she exclaimed. "Worm hair and flaming eye sockets!  That's one really creepy monster.  So what happened next?  Did anyone get eaten?"
Gorynych shook his head. "No, all four of them got out of there okay, although it took weeks for my narrator friend to regain his power of speech."
"Know any more scary stories about Sokhars?" Kes asked.  Since she was little, she had always been fascinated by stories of the macabre.
Gorynych hesitated, staring down at the table. "Yeah," he said finally, "but I don't think you want to hear any of them.  They're really ghastly."
"Please," begged Kes, "it doesn't have to be a really long one."
Sighing, Gorynych shook his head again. "Sorry, but I can't," he said. "Anyway, it's bad luck if I told more than one Sokhar story during the summer."
Kes stared at him, astonished. "I can't imagine why," she said. "I've heard hundreds of monster stories told and nothing fearful ever happened to any of the participants."
"Sokhars aren't your average run-of-the-mill monster," Gorynych explained. "They're an evil beyond all imagination, even the stories about them must be told with great caution for there's always a danger that they might overhear and you and come looking."
Gorynych and Kes chatted about many other things, such as their hobbies and where they went to school.  Then the dragon announced he just remembered he had to do some errand back at in town.  As a parting gift, Kes gave him an embroidered scarf with lots of tassels and beads.
"Thank you, my friend," said Gorynych graciously. "Wait a minute, I got something for you too."  Then he began coughing convulsively, eventually disgorging an apricot-sized object that was perfectly round and shimmering with color.
"This here's a bezoar," he explained, handing it to her. "Usually you'd find one in the stomach of a goat or a camel, but a stone from a dragon's very special.  It's got power to shield you from most evil creatures."
Kes accepted the still wet gift somewhat squeamishly.
"Thank you," she said politely. "Maybe I can come and see you sometime." She thought for a moment. "Perhaps I could come visit you next week if you're not too busy. "
Gorynych grinned broadly and shrugged his shoulders. "Next week's fine.  In fact, this coming Friday, me and some my friends of mine are throwing this Summer Fest, so you're invited, or course."
"I'll try finding a good outfit then," said Kes, hoping it wouldn't be a really big party.  Crowds of people made her really nervous.
"You take care, Kes," Gorynych suddenly became serious. "There are dark forces roaming abroad this time of year, so watch out for any weird stuff, and keep the bezoar with you at all times, day and night."
"Gorynych, you don't have to worry," Kes reassured him. "Nothing's going to happen to me."
How could she possibly imagine the dark and disturbing events that would soon befall her in the weeks that followed.

The End of Pt. 9 of The Book of the Centipede

And the Wind City floated along above the land, on towards what lay ahead.