animals among the dead, but she didn't know how low
they had flown before succumbing.
The whole concept of quintessence
transformation was something they still didn't really understand.
Quintessence turned salt water into fresh and sand into bread, but
in some sense, the salt and sand were still there. In a
quintessence field, her body could digest it and pass the nutrients
to her tissues and keep her alive. Outside the field, the salt and
sand would reappear, suffused throughout her flesh. So which was
real? Was her body filled with fresh water and nutrients, or with
salt and sand? Was quintessence just an illusion? How could both
realities exist at the same time?
The manticores gave her neither food nor
water, though every few hours, they stopped and forced more mercury
down her throat, an even more terrifying ordeal since they were now
invisible to her. Her stomach cramped and her vision blurred, but
she tried to keep track of where they were going. No human had ever
explored this deeply into the island, and she saw new kinds of
foliage everywhere. Mostly, though, she looked for landmarks that
might help her get home again.
When they reached the foothills of the
mountains, the mossy trees thinned and were replaced by stout
shrubs like umbrellas with sprays of root anchoring them to the
bare rock. Herds of a mouse-like creature with multiple grasping
trunks scattered from the shade as their troop passed through. She
saw goats, too, with hooks on their hooves that could pass into
solid rock and latch on. In this way, they could run up cliff faces
or even upside-down on the roofs of caves and overhangs.
They were moving in a general northeasterly
direction, toward the center of the island, with the tallest
mountain always somewhat to their left. Several times they had
circled far out of their way to avoid a low-lying region of ground,
and she wondered if these were more quintessence blights.
Where had the blights come from? Were they
related to the dwindling availability of salt? Manticores were
quick to blame the humans—and not without reason—but the humans
were also the most likely to be able to figure out what these
blights were and where they had came from. If the manticores would
just tell them what they'd seen and give them access to the sites,
Catherine was confident they could discover the reason behind them.
Did they always form in the areas of lowest altitude? Could it be
caused by a miasma, something heavier than air seeping up from a
chasm underground? Given the chance to experiment, they just might
find out.
At the rate it was spreading, though, it
might cover the island before they got a chance. But no, she didn't
have enough information to estimate that. Without knowing the
cause, she couldn't tell if the rate of spread should be measured
by distance on the ground, like a moving object, or by volume, like
a spreading flood, or even if the rate was constant. It might be
months before it reached the settlement, it might be only weeks, or
it might never get there at all.
The manticores brought her higher, up steep
slopes where there were no more trees, sometimes actually climbing
up cliff faces. Her precarious litter lurched as invisible hands
dragged her higher, and more than once she thought they would lose
hold, and she would fall to her death.
By the time they stopped for the night, she
was exhausted and crying with hunger. She begged Rinchirith for
food, or at least to untie her hands, which were still lashed
painfully behind her back. His voice came out of the darkness,
speaking in English. "You do not need food. Food comes from the
earths, and they will judge you. They can feed you just as easily
as they can kill you."
"What do you mean, the earths? You're not
making any sense."
"Because your language is a child's language,
with no way to say what must be said." He switched to his own
language, and rattled off a clatter of sharp syllables too fast for
Catherine to understand.
"What are you
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