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down heavily as he walked.  And keep moving. Do not linger too long in one place. As swiftly as the salt
distorts and affects your mind, it also clutches at your feet.
It took the contents of an entire water bag and part of another to free the hulking Hunkapa Aub from his
saline entombment. When confronted with the reality of his mirrored self in salt, he could not be
dissuaded from pushing it over. It smashed to bits, leaving a pile of salt rubble where moments before
had stood a perfect likeness of the shag-covered man-beast.
Continuously brushing salt crystals from their arms and legs, they hurried on to the knoll of salts that had
assumed the guise of a small castle. Breathing hard, Ehomba slowed before the sculpted entrance but
of his good friend and companion there was no sign.
Scratching ceaselessly as he fought off the persistent salt, Hunkapa Aub turned a slow circle.  Not see
friend Simna.
 I don t smell him, either. Head back, the black litah was sniffing repeatedly at the air.  Between the
new dampness and the old salt it s hard to scent anything else.
 Keep trying. Grateful for the moonlight, Ehomba strained to see through seams in the salt formations.
They appeared to be taunting him, mocking his efforts to penetrate their encrusted secrets, laughing
silently from origins he preferred not to contemplate.
His eyes widened slightly as he realized what must have happened. Whirling to face the blocky,
crenellated formation once more, he aimed the water bag he was holding and directed Hunkapa Aub to
do likewise with his. Bereft of hands, Ahlitah could only look on and watch.
Water gushed from the mouths of both bags to play over the flanks of the consolidated castle. Minarets
dissolved into soggy lumps, and then the lumps themselves became components of thin briny rivers that
flowed down the flanks of the formation. Turrets and spires sagged and crumbled, melding into the walls
as they liquefied beneath the soaking assault.
It took more of their supply than the herdsman cared to think about, but halfway into the castle they
finally caught a glimpse of Simna ibn Sind s backpack. Still riding high on the swordsman s shoulders, it
gleamed dully in the moonlight. The surrounding, enclosing salt imparted a sickly blue cast to the exposed
portions of his skin.
Moving closer and wielding the shrinking water bags like firearms, Ehomba and Hunkapa Aub dissolved
the salt from around their friend s encrusted body. He had been completely entombed. Salt plugged his
ears and formed a crust over his eyes. But his nostrils were still unblocked, though barely, the advancing
salt having been held back by the moisture breathed out by his lungs.
Stiff and unbending, his body was dragged out into the open air and laid gently across Ahlitah s back.
Lying him down on the ground was not contemplated, as it would just be returning him to the grip of the
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relentless, inimical salts. Water from still another bag was poured over him, drenching his body and
clothing, soaking his face. When he finally revived, the herdsman did so sputtering violently and shaking
his head.
Sitting up, he wiped animatedly at his face and took a long, deep breath.  What happened? I feel as if
I ve come back from the land of the dead. Rising to his feet, he suddenly pointed and yelled,  That
cursed castle tried to kill me! It grabbed me and tried to suffocate me!
 Salt you down is more like it. Careful to keep moving his feet and arms, Ehomba proceeded to
explain.  I think that if we had been five minutes longer in melting you out, the salt would have filled your
nose and stopped your breathing. And your heart.
Wiping at himself as if he had just emerged from hiding in the depths of a cesspool, the swordsman
found himself prone to a momentary case of the shakes. He was prepared to face death, had been ever
since he had taken up the sword, but suffocating alive was among the least pleasant ways imaginable for
a man to expire.
 Away from this place, he declared with a sweep of his arm.  Let s get away from here.
His companions needed no urging. The matter of their suddenly and severely depleted water supply,
which they had worked so hard to obtain in Skawpane, was not mentioned. Commentary was
unnecessary. Having utilized the greater portion of it to free themselves from the grasp of the alkaline
prison, it would now have to be rationed severely, and quickly replenished. In the waning moonlight, the
silhouette of the Curridgian escarpment loomed before them more meaningful than ever.
There would be water there, Ehomba knew as he moved forward at the run. The snowy peaks
promised as much. The only question was, how high up and how far back would they have to go to find
it?
Behind them, fantastic contours and extravagant shapes stood silent sentinel over the salt plain. They did
not move, and none uttered so much as a whisper. Rising from pools of rapidly dispersing and
evaporating water, crystals of halite and gypsum sparkled like diamonds as they precipitated out of the
chloride-heavy solution. In most places such a wealth of crystals would have been zealously guarded and
protected, for salt was necessary to the perpetuation of life.
Only here, in this forsaken and barren place between mountain and misery, had it turned deadly.
XIX
The Drounge
It did not know how old it was. It did not know where it came from; whether mother and father, egg,
spore, seed, or spontaneous generation. It could not remember when it had begun or how long it had
been wandering. It did not know if there were others of its kind, but it had never seen another like itself.
It knew only that it was in pain.
For as long as it could remember, which might very well be for as long as Time was, it had been so.
Without any specific destination in mind it had wandered the world, its only purpose, its only motivation,
to keep moving. It sought nothing, desired nothing, expected nothing and that was what it got. On its
singular plight it did not speculate. What was the use? It was what it was, and no amount of
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contemplation or conjecture was going to change that. To say that the Drounge was resigned to its
condition would be to understate the situation grossly. Alternatives did not and had never existed.
There wasn t an antagonistic particle in its being. By the same token, it was too compassionate to be
friendly. Where possible, it kept its distance. When contact with other living things was unavoidable, as
was too often the case, it rendered neither judgment nor insensibility. It simply was, and then it moved on.
Most creatures could not see the Drounge so much as sense a disturbance in their surroundings when it
was present. This was to the benefit of both, since the Drounge did not especially want to be seen and
because it was not pleasant to look upon. Occasionally, the sharp-eyed and perceptive were able to
separate it from its surroundings. Whenever that occurred, usually in times of stress or moments of panic,
screaming frequently ensued. Followed by death, though this was not inevitable. Murder was the farthest
thing from the Drounge s mind. When life departed in its presence, apathy was the strongest emotion it
could muster. How could it feel for the demise of others when its own condition was so pitiable?
For the Drounge was a swab. It roved the world picking up the pain and misery and wounds and hurt of
whatever it came in contact with. A vague amorphous shape the size of a hippopotamus, it humped and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]