Nog looked away. 'I long to return. We all do.'
'You will, soon enough.'
'I'm old, Mujar. I feel certain my next journey will be to the Lake of Dreams.'
Nog glanced up at the sky, where the sun emerged from behind the jagged moon. As the light increased, the animals feeding on the plasma disappeared with remarkable speed. The little crabs scuttled away, the flying creatures drifted upwards to the safety of the high ethers, and the others crawled, strode or wriggled into the undergrowth. Within minutes, the plasma sea was a calm pool of thick liquid. Curious, Chanter scooped up a handful and tasted it. The sickly sweet, bitter flavour made him grimace and spit it out. Nog's skin mottled and his neck fronds waved with amusement.
'It's poison to us, Mujar. Lucky you're undying.'
Chanter wiped his mouth, wishing there was water to rinse it with, since the plasma left a nasty aftertaste he sensed would linger for some time. 'Where did they all go?' He gestured to the plasma, indicating the vanished beasts.
'Underground. It's the only place that's safe from the plants, unless they use their roots to hunt as well. Apart from the flyers, they all have warrens of burrows not far from the beach, and live together in communities. The little shelled ones live further away, but I'm not sure why.'
'Are there many of our people here?'
'Lots, but they stay away from the plasma seas. It's more peaceful on the plains.'
'Show me.'
Nog spread his wings. 'Quicker if we fly.'
The predator ran along the beach and leapt into the air, invoking Ashmar. Chanter followed, changing into an eagle with a rush of wind and the faint sound of beating wings, his invocation of the Power stronger than Nog's. Again he experienced the split second of stretching and shrinking, along with a flood of information to guide him in the use of his new shape. The plants shrank away from his power, showing an alien dislike for it.
Nog led Chanter across the plasma sea, floating higher without effort and using his wings to drive himself forward. The thin, calm air lacked winds and thermals on which to soar. Unlike Nog, the Mujar could not use Ashmar to defy gravity, but had to beat his wings to keep himself aloft. Passing over the jungle at the sea's edge, they soared above sparsely wooded land covered with aquamarine grass. A craggy cliff that spewed a crystal waterfall into a black pool passed below, and they climbed higher to glide above a plateau of velvet blue- greenness.
Chanter swooped down to land close to a scattered host of rainbow-hued beasts. He changed back into a man and gazed at the gentle animals with a deep sense of fondness and kinship. It pleased him to see so many creatures from his world feeding in the sun, even in this alien land. Those closest to him hooted soft greetings, and several came closer and raised their fronds, offering food.
Their delicious scent made Chanter's mouth water, and his stomach growled. Nog plucked fronds and munched them, and the Mujar followed suit. Some of the beasts had young at foot, spindly babies with overlong legs and necks that spread immature wings to catch the sun. The youngsters stayed close to their parents, learning from them. Shamarese beasts cared for their offspring for many years, and stayed together as a family group until the parents died, then the youngsters would seek mates.
Chanter folded his legs and sat down to watch the mating dance of a pair of rainbow beasts. They gambolled around each other with fluid grace, their stilt-like legs looking too delicate and ungainly to perform such athletic antics. They had invoked Ashmar, and used it to leap and float in lazy arcs, fanning the air with their wings to propel themselves in a stately display of elegance. Their rainbow skins glowed with excitement and ardour, to impress their mate with their beauty and allure. Chanter surmised, from the duration and complexity of their courtship, that this was their first attempt. Their chests glowed deep crimson, indicating that they were in blossom.
Their dance slowed until they stood with twined necks, then they broke apart and reared. In unison, their chests swelled and burst open, blossoming into flowers of pale, iridescent delicacy filled with a soft, pulsing glow. The flowers puffed out fine, glittering filaments, merging in a golden cloud of pollen as the beasts pressed together in a quick movement, then dropped to all fours again.
The flowers, open only for the moment of pollination, wilted and shrivelled, the petals dropped off and the skin sealed once more. The flowers' exotic scent drifted to Chanter on the still air, a strangely familiar fragrance, even though he had not smelt it before. The pair walked away together, then stopped to push their pointed legs into the soil and spread their wings, settling down to feed.
A pair would breed twice, maybe three times, in their lives. No more offspring were needed in a world where creatures only died of old age or the occasional accident. Chanter compared them to Truemen's savage predators, whose swift, graceful forms were good to wear, but their cruel ways repulsed him. Trueman animals had to breed at an extraordinary rate to keep their races from extinction, since they were hunted or died from starvation and disease. It seemed an unfortunate life path; an endless cycle of mating, feeding, birthing and dying, all to feed others, or to keep others from overpopulating the world. Truemen had, for the most part, opted out of this cycle, but although they were rarely preyed upon, they still bred at a remarkable rate.
Shamarese animals bred late in life and died after their final offspring was fully grown. They enjoyed their lives, explored and learnt, sang under the moon and played in the sun, never knowing prey's terror or hunter's hunger. They possessed profound knowledge and were at one with their world, with no need to reshape or ravage it. Sadly, they were now forced to live in the Lakes to escape Trueman savagery. Most of the beasts here were not breeding, just living in safety.
Chanter looked around for Nog, who had wandered off to play with another of his kind. The Mujar sighed, saddened that here, amongst his kind, he was almost an outcast, welcomed, yet wearing an enemy's form. The stifling calm engendered a creeping lethargy that made him want to stretch out in the sun and close his eyes, but the cold of Dolana prevented him. He gazed at the rainbow beasts again, frowning. There was something odd about them, but he was unable to fathom it. He watched Nog play with his friend for a while, then turned to study the basking beasts again.
Some wandered about, talking to neighbours in their hooting speech, others played with their young or indulged in mutual grooming with their mates. Then it struck him. Only three kinds of rainbow beasts were here, all of whom drew nourishment through their root legs and occasionally ate mud. A few predators like Nog moved amongst them, but no others. Curious, he sent a ripple through the Dolana to Nog, rather like throwing a pebble to catch someone's attention. Nog slouched over with his swaying gait, settled on his haunches beside Chanter and tilted his head in a quizzical fashion.
'Where are the rest of our people?' Chanter asked.
'Not here,' Nog said. 'This Lake is not suitable for plant eaters. There are no edible plants here. Even the grass is poison, and I wouldn't advise anyone to try to eat one of those animal hunters.'
'Of course. I should have guessed.'
'Most of the plant eaters are in the Lake of Joy, which is filled with food. Great fruits the size of a Lowman house grow there, and there's only one species of native beast, similar to a clandar, but much bigger.'
Nog named a Shamarese beast that spent most of its life as a fat, pearly-skinned grub that fed on fruits and tubers. It metamorphosed into a winged creature that looked a lot like a massive transparent flower. When they blossomed, they performed a complicated aerial ballet during which the males released their pollen, then the females laid their eggs and they all died – a little like Lowman butterflies.
'I'd like to visit it one day,' Chanter said.
'It's not as interesting as this Lake, and dull compared to some of the others.'
'Tell me about them.'
'That would take a long time, Mujar.'
'I have time.' Chanter frowned, remembering the Lowman girl. 'Is time the same here as in Shamarese?'
'No. It passes a little slower here.'
The Mujar glanced at the sun, which had moved a fair distance across the sky since his arrival. He had been here longer than he had thought. 'Then I should leave soon. But tell me one more thing. Doesn't the imbalance here bother you?'
Chanter had discovered that his awareness of the lack of Ashmar became more acute as time passed. The warm stillness was debilitating, even for him, and he wondered how the other beasts coped.
