darkened. There
was nowhere he could rest his gaze to escape the constant, nauseating crawling.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Periodically, change
happened on a grander scale. At the edge of the desert, the snow capping three
of the peaks exploded into clouds of steam. Then, closer to hand, one of the
standing stones melted into a feline-headed giant sunk waist-deep in the earth.
The titan glared, hissed and snatched for Dieter, but he scrambled back beyond
its reach. The creature struggled to drag itself out of the ground, and he fled.
Sometime after that, redness ran like streaming blood through the brown terrain.
Blades of coarse crimson grass jabbed upwards from what had been sand. The
columns of rock became vermilion trees, their branches bedizened with yellow
blossoms that smelled like sulphur and trilled to one another.
The universe had gone mad, and was stabbing its madness into
Dieter’s eyes. Unable to bear it, he lifted his face to the sky, the realm he
comprehended and perhaps even loved better than anything on earth. There, change
occurred in a stately cyclical dance, according to laws he understood, which
meant that in a certain sense, nothing ever changed at all. The heavens would be
his refuge.
That was how he needed it to be. But when he looked up, he
found the same inconstancy that prevailed below. He couldn’t even tell if it was
day or night, or if that distinction still possessed any meaning. At first, part
of the sky was bright without any sun to shed the light, while the rest was dark
and dotted with green luminescences—Dieter couldn’t bring himself to think of
them as stars—that both churned like eddies and flitted about like flies. Then
the whole sky turned mauve, with a white glowing square in the centre. After a
time the rectangle crumpled in on itself as if a gigantic invisible hand were
crushing it. At the instant it vanished entirely, a robed, hooded colossus
appeared where it had been. The immense apparition sat on a golden throne, and
legions of daemons, tiny as toy soldiers by comparison, grovelled before it.
Dieter cried out and tore his gaze away, and at that point
noticed his shadow. It was changing like everything else, and not just because
the light kept shifting.
Shaking, he raised his hands before his eyes. They were pale,
then olive-skinned, then mottled with sores. They had four fingers each, and
then the left sprouted an extra pair of thumbs. Inconstancy had squirmed its way
inside him.
He felt a sudden savage urge to gouge his eyes out so he
wouldn’t have to see such things anymore. But a mild baritone voice said,
“Please, don’t be foolish.”
Startled, Dieter jerked around, then screamed and flinched.
The speaker wore a simple robe belted with rope, as well as a cowl that shadowed
his features. He looked like many a common priest, but also like the
transcendent figure the wizard had glimpsed enthroned in the sky.
The newcomer must have realised the source of Dieter’s
terror, for he pulled back his cowl to reveal a wry, intelligent, human face.
“It’s all right! I’m not him. I only want to help you.”
Dieter swallowed. The action felt strange, as if the
musculature at the top of his throat had altered. “Help me how?”
“By pointing you over there.” The priest extended his arm.
Dieter followed the gesture and beheld a pool of water amid the writhing scarlet
grass.
The pool’s surface was still, nor did its silver-grey hue
alter even subtly from one second to the next. It was the one steady point in
the storm of change, and perhaps that meant it could offer sanctuary.
Dieter dashed to the pool and waded into the cool water. He
wondered if he should immerse himself completely.
“That isn’t necessary,” said the priest. He must have run,
too, to catch up so quickly. “Just look at the water and nothing else.”
Dieter did as he’d been told, and at first, it helped. The
pool didn’t change. It
was nowhere he could rest his gaze to escape the constant, nauseating crawling.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Periodically, change
happened on a grander scale. At the edge of the desert, the snow capping three
of the peaks exploded into clouds of steam. Then, closer to hand, one of the
standing stones melted into a feline-headed giant sunk waist-deep in the earth.
The titan glared, hissed and snatched for Dieter, but he scrambled back beyond
its reach. The creature struggled to drag itself out of the ground, and he fled.
Sometime after that, redness ran like streaming blood through the brown terrain.
Blades of coarse crimson grass jabbed upwards from what had been sand. The
columns of rock became vermilion trees, their branches bedizened with yellow
blossoms that smelled like sulphur and trilled to one another.
The universe had gone mad, and was stabbing its madness into
Dieter’s eyes. Unable to bear it, he lifted his face to the sky, the realm he
comprehended and perhaps even loved better than anything on earth. There, change
occurred in a stately cyclical dance, according to laws he understood, which
meant that in a certain sense, nothing ever changed at all. The heavens would be
his refuge.
That was how he needed it to be. But when he looked up, he
found the same inconstancy that prevailed below. He couldn’t even tell if it was
day or night, or if that distinction still possessed any meaning. At first, part
of the sky was bright without any sun to shed the light, while the rest was dark
and dotted with green luminescences—Dieter couldn’t bring himself to think of
them as stars—that both churned like eddies and flitted about like flies. Then
the whole sky turned mauve, with a white glowing square in the centre. After a
time the rectangle crumpled in on itself as if a gigantic invisible hand were
crushing it. At the instant it vanished entirely, a robed, hooded colossus
appeared where it had been. The immense apparition sat on a golden throne, and
legions of daemons, tiny as toy soldiers by comparison, grovelled before it.
Dieter cried out and tore his gaze away, and at that point
noticed his shadow. It was changing like everything else, and not just because
the light kept shifting.
Shaking, he raised his hands before his eyes. They were pale,
then olive-skinned, then mottled with sores. They had four fingers each, and
then the left sprouted an extra pair of thumbs. Inconstancy had squirmed its way
inside him.
He felt a sudden savage urge to gouge his eyes out so he
wouldn’t have to see such things anymore. But a mild baritone voice said,
“Please, don’t be foolish.”
Startled, Dieter jerked around, then screamed and flinched.
The speaker wore a simple robe belted with rope, as well as a cowl that shadowed
his features. He looked like many a common priest, but also like the
transcendent figure the wizard had glimpsed enthroned in the sky.
The newcomer must have realised the source of Dieter’s
terror, for he pulled back his cowl to reveal a wry, intelligent, human face.
“It’s all right! I’m not him. I only want to help you.”
Dieter swallowed. The action felt strange, as if the
musculature at the top of his throat had altered. “Help me how?”
“By pointing you over there.” The priest extended his arm.
Dieter followed the gesture and beheld a pool of water amid the writhing scarlet
grass.
The pool’s surface was still, nor did its silver-grey hue
alter even subtly from one second to the next. It was the one steady point in
the storm of change, and perhaps that meant it could offer sanctuary.
Dieter dashed to the pool and waded into the cool water. He
wondered if he should immerse himself completely.
“That isn’t necessary,” said the priest. He must have run,
too, to catch up so quickly. “Just look at the water and nothing else.”
Dieter did as he’d been told, and at first, it helped. The
pool didn’t change. It
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