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However, it soon became obvious that this creature neither had the wisdom, or the intelligence to navigate the lake’s perimeter as, with a cry, it threw itself into the water.
    At first it appeared to be a strong swimmer, its snout cutting through the water like the prow of a yacht. But its wings trailed behind it, weighing it down, and as it reached the centre of the lake, its strokes began to slow.
    Emuel did nothing the first time the creature went under, sure that it would struggle on and reach them. The second time it went down, however, he could see the fear in its eyes. Without stopping to disrobe, Emuel threw himself into the lake.
    The water was warm and he could feel the trailing fronds of weeds brushing against his ankles as he struck out. The only thing to mark where the creature had been was a stream of bubbles, rising slowly to the surface. When Emuel reached that spot he struck down blindly, his hands sweeping through the murk until they knocked against something that felt like a stick. Emuel grabbed hold and pulled, hauling the creature to the surface by the edge of one of its wings. It thrashed against him and cried out, but Emuel rolled onto his back and pinned the creature’s wings to its sides. The creature emitted plaintive cries as Emuel carried it back to shore.
    Out of the water the creature shook vigorously, snapping its wings forward and spraying Calabash and Emuel. It reared on its hind legs as though to intimidate them, but when Calabash did nothing and Emuel merely patted its flank and smiled, it settled down and began to sniff around them both. Calabash darted away a few times and once nipped the creature on the nose, but the bite wasn’t intended to wound, merely warn, and soon both creatures were exploring each other, ending their examinations with querulous calls and flapping wings.
    Emuel sang and was delighted that this new arrival joined in with as much gusto as its mate. Its voice was more delicate than Calabash’s, and he was reminded of another member of his choir. “Anania,” he said, recalling the slight woman who had used to sing the song of the sacraments so beautifully.
    As though the memory of his choir had summoned them, they were suddenly surrounded by a host of voices, as more of the creatures clambered over the hills surrounding them, calling to one another as they came, singing out their joy at finding their brothers and sisters. Emuel found himself at the centre of a family of winged lizards, and as they stared at him with their brilliant eyes and flapped their wings and snorted their joy, he felt that amongst these strange beings, he had found a sort of home, a congregation with whom he could share his joy.

 

     
    C HAPTER E IGHT

     
    N OW THAT THEY had been trekking across it for some time, Silus was beginning to appreciate the beauty of the desert. It wasn’t quite the arid, lifeless landscape that he had first thought. Instead, it seemed to be a living entity in itself, its moods changing with the hour of the day. Dawn would see it whisper into life, the wind finding its voice as it hissed across the dunes, gently rousing them from sleep. The pale sun would soon grow in intensity, however, and they would struggle against its glare, the heat mocking them by conjuring up mirages of cool, clear water that disappeared the moment they drew close. At the height of the day they would take sanctuary in tents and shelters, though even out of the sun the heat was incredible and they could do nothing but sit and watch the sand phantoms dance before them, too tired to even talk to one another. Once the sun began its slow trek down the sky, they would set off again, their journey becoming easier as the land gave up its heat and the soft wind cooled the sweat on their backs.
    All this toil was worth it, Silus kept telling himself, for the sunsets.
    He had never thought of sand as having any colour, but as the sun began to dip behind the dunes it revealed the full palette of