wood.
She also recollected very well stories of barbarous creatures that moved in huge packs over the plain, landscapes that were wrapped in everlasting fire, mountains that folded their wings and flew away, and ships of human bones that sailed over the lava oceans of Hell. All those were pictures that had stuck in Merle’s mind, so greatly had they impressed her at the time.
And now there weren’t any of those.
She was disappointed and relieved at the same time. The Lilim in the rock wall were murderous enough for her taste, and she could perfectly happily do without hordes of cannibals and gigantic monsters. However, she felt a little cheated, as if now, after years, all the infernal pictures had turned out to be just wild stories.
But Hell was gigantic, and so there might be different landscapes and cultures down here, as there were up on the earth. If a traveler from another world were set down somewhere in the Sahara, he’d certainly be disappointed if people had told him beforehand about the splendid palaces of Venice and its many branching canals. Evenmore, he probably wouldn’t be able to believe they existed at all.
Merle climbed back to the outermost swelling of stone and looked out at the rocky ground rushing past way below them. No change, no trace of life. Oddly, she felt no drafts of wind, no suction, which there really should have been at this speed.
A little bored, especially after all she’d been through, she turned her gaze behind them, to the second stone head, which was following them at some distance. From here she couldn’t see the third, which was on the other side.
Suddenly she started up, her sluggishness vanishing at one stroke.
“That isn’t …,” she began, but she forgot to end the sentence. Then, after a moment, she asked, “Do you see that too?”
“I see through your eyes, Merle. Of course I can see him.”
Between the lips of the second head there was a man.
He was perched behind the lower lip and lay with his upper body and arms stretched out over the stone, apparently lifeless, as if the mighty head had half swallowed him and then had forgotten to swallow the rest. His arms dangled back and forth, his head lay on one side, face turned away. He had very long, snow-white hair, and Merle would have taken him for a woman, if he hadn’tsuddenly turned his head and looked over at her. He looked out at her between the white strands, which covered his features like fresh-fallen snow. Even at this distance she could see how narrow and wasted his face looked. His skin had hardly any more color than his hair; it was as pale as that of a corpse.
“He is dying,”
said the Flowing Queen.
“And so we should just look on while he does it?”
“We cannot get to him.”
Merle thought it over; then she made a decision. “Maybe yes.”
She sprang back inside the ear, shook Vermithrax awake, and pulled the tired, ill-humored lion with her to the edge of the stone ear. The white man had now turned his face away again and was hanging over the lip of the head like a dead man.
“Can we get over there?” The tone of her voice made it clear that she would not accept a no.
“Hmm,” said Vermithrax gloomily.
“What’s that supposed to mean … hmm?” Merle waved her arms and gesticulated wildly. “We can’t simply let him die over there. He needs our help, you can see that.”
Vermithrax growled something unintelligible, and Merle waved her hands more and more furiously, appealed eloquently to his conscience, and finally even said, “Please.” At last he murmured, “He could be a danger.”
“But he’s a human being!”
“Or something that looks like one,” said the Queen with Merle’s voice.
Merle was much too excited to reprimand her for this breach of their agreement. “In any case, we can’t just stay sitting here and watching.” She added emphatically, “We can’t, can we?”
The Queen wrapped herself in silence, which in a certain way was also an
She also recollected very well stories of barbarous creatures that moved in huge packs over the plain, landscapes that were wrapped in everlasting fire, mountains that folded their wings and flew away, and ships of human bones that sailed over the lava oceans of Hell. All those were pictures that had stuck in Merle’s mind, so greatly had they impressed her at the time.
And now there weren’t any of those.
She was disappointed and relieved at the same time. The Lilim in the rock wall were murderous enough for her taste, and she could perfectly happily do without hordes of cannibals and gigantic monsters. However, she felt a little cheated, as if now, after years, all the infernal pictures had turned out to be just wild stories.
But Hell was gigantic, and so there might be different landscapes and cultures down here, as there were up on the earth. If a traveler from another world were set down somewhere in the Sahara, he’d certainly be disappointed if people had told him beforehand about the splendid palaces of Venice and its many branching canals. Evenmore, he probably wouldn’t be able to believe they existed at all.
Merle climbed back to the outermost swelling of stone and looked out at the rocky ground rushing past way below them. No change, no trace of life. Oddly, she felt no drafts of wind, no suction, which there really should have been at this speed.
A little bored, especially after all she’d been through, she turned her gaze behind them, to the second stone head, which was following them at some distance. From here she couldn’t see the third, which was on the other side.
Suddenly she started up, her sluggishness vanishing at one stroke.
“That isn’t …,” she began, but she forgot to end the sentence. Then, after a moment, she asked, “Do you see that too?”
“I see through your eyes, Merle. Of course I can see him.”
Between the lips of the second head there was a man.
He was perched behind the lower lip and lay with his upper body and arms stretched out over the stone, apparently lifeless, as if the mighty head had half swallowed him and then had forgotten to swallow the rest. His arms dangled back and forth, his head lay on one side, face turned away. He had very long, snow-white hair, and Merle would have taken him for a woman, if he hadn’tsuddenly turned his head and looked over at her. He looked out at her between the white strands, which covered his features like fresh-fallen snow. Even at this distance she could see how narrow and wasted his face looked. His skin had hardly any more color than his hair; it was as pale as that of a corpse.
“He is dying,”
said the Flowing Queen.
“And so we should just look on while he does it?”
“We cannot get to him.”
Merle thought it over; then she made a decision. “Maybe yes.”
She sprang back inside the ear, shook Vermithrax awake, and pulled the tired, ill-humored lion with her to the edge of the stone ear. The white man had now turned his face away again and was hanging over the lip of the head like a dead man.
“Can we get over there?” The tone of her voice made it clear that she would not accept a no.
“Hmm,” said Vermithrax gloomily.
“What’s that supposed to mean … hmm?” Merle waved her arms and gesticulated wildly. “We can’t simply let him die over there. He needs our help, you can see that.”
Vermithrax growled something unintelligible, and Merle waved her hands more and more furiously, appealed eloquently to his conscience, and finally even said, “Please.” At last he murmured, “He could be a danger.”
“But he’s a human being!”
“Or something that looks like one,” said the Queen with Merle’s voice.
Merle was much too excited to reprimand her for this breach of their agreement. “In any case, we can’t just stay sitting here and watching.” She added emphatically, “We can’t, can we?”
The Queen wrapped herself in silence, which in a certain way was also an
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