Page 3

One night, seven days after leaving that village of (derogatory word deleted), we were travelling along the crest of a rocky ridge, when my Lord raised a hand and pointed down to a deep valley on our right. In the depth of that valley, in the indifferent flicker of starlight, my Lord’s amazingly keen eyes had detected the presence of thickets of bushes. And where there is vegetation, there must be water, and perhaps an animal or two to be hunted down and eaten. Our reserves of childmeat and water were indeed low, despite my vigil over Opodartho; and we followed my Lord down into the valley.

I have often imagined those far off days when, we are assured, this world had flowing and stagnant bodies of water, in which creatures lived that we hardly know of, things called "fishes" and others of even stranger nomenclature. Perhaps, in distant parts of the world, far beyond these crags and valleys, such are still to be found. But here in the valley we found about as much as we expected: patches of semi-liquid mud, through which, here and there, water had seeped and gathered in little pools and puddles. Small hopping things fled from our approach and jumped for safety into these pools, but I managed to grab hold of one. It was slippery and shone faintly green in the starlight. It emitted a savage croaking noise and kicked out with long hind legs at my arms, and it was all I could do to hold on to it.

"It may be edible," Opodartho said, proving once again her utter stupidity and unfitness to accompany us on this journey. "Those legs should contain muscle enough to provide a good meal."

"No," said my Lord sharply, putting the snivelling schemer in her place. "I declare it to be inedible, and possibly poisonous. Let it go, Chheechkaduni."

All the next morning we walked up that valley. Water we got from the reeking puddles. Once, indeed, I spotted a trickle of what appeared to be pure water emerging from a crack in the rock; and the base wench, Opodartho, instantly declared it ready for drinking. But my Lord, with his greater knowledge, forbade us to touch that liquid, for it came from out of the bowels of the earth, where monsters from the depths of hell dwelt, and we passed it by.

On the second day, I found red berries growing on a bush. These, the strumpet Opodartho declared instantly, might be poisonous and should be avoided. No doubt this was merely  an attempt on her part to discredit me, but fortunately my Lord saw through her little device and said that they were edible; not just edible, but delicious. In truth, they had a bitter flavour and left a numbing taste on the tongue, but since my Lord...

(A passage is missing.)

...recovered from the stomach cramps we all suffered after eating those berries. I was convinced now that this Opodartho was a witch and had somehow cast a poison-spell over those berries to make them unsuitable for us, because my Lord approved of them. Something had to be done, whenever possible, about her.

In the meantime, as I said, we were in the broken tower we discovered at the head of the valley. The childmeat was finished except for a small bag my Lord held back as an emergency supply, and made sure to keep on his person at all times. This was as well, for I am convinced that otherwise the foul witch Opodartho would have found a means to consume it all. In the meantime we caught some of the lean brown lizards which scurried over the tower and ate them, bones and all. They tasted like baby haunch, but less tender.

On the second evening in the tower, as I have related, I saw, while on watch, a movement far down the valley. I now saw it again, much closer, but still too far away to tell what it was. I woke my Lord and he stood by me and watched for a long time, but the movement, whatever it was, was not repeated. My Lord was, I’m afraid, somewhat vexed with me for disturbing him for nothing. But I am sure there was something. I decided that henceforth I must keep better watch.

The next morning we were, as was our wont sometimes, talking, and somehow the talk turned to speculation about the long-gone time when, the old tales say, water flowed across the land and gathered in huge masses which took many days to cross. Some of these tales, we all agreed, were exaggerated beyond imagining – how could one even think of crossing a great body of water, assuming such a thing existed? – no, we knew, such things as those "rivers" and "seas" must be figments of someone’s imagination.

[ Continue to page 4 ]