“Don’t,” said Layanna, and Hildra lowered it, but slowly.

On the floor, the dead man was trembling violently, and his eyes rolled in their sockets. Avery thought he could see things moving under his skin, but before the doctor could take a closer look the robed figures produced a robe and pulled it around the dead man, who did not seem to be so dead anymore. Gradually, the trembling stopped, and then he laid still—not the stillness of death but of a man at rest. The circle of reeking, vulture-like priests helped him to his feet, and he, just another robed figure now, joined their ranks. He had become one of them. They all shoved on their gloves and turned to face the High Priestess.

She stared at them, mouth half-agape. With some effort, she closed it, and the two groups regarded each other.

For the first time, the Father spoke, if it could be called that, but what emerged was no true human speech but some hissing, static-y noise that bore no relation to what normal human vocal chords were capable of. If he spoke any intelligible words, Avery couldn’t tell, but the meaning seemed to be something like, Well?

The High Priestess glanced to her Sisters, then to the small puddle of blood on the marble floor. Already flies gathered to it.

“I admit,” she said, slowly, “that was quite impressive, and I wish you well in finding followers. I don’t know how you did it, and I don’t want to know. If it was a trick, it was … very good. If it wasn’t …” She swallowed. “Please, I mean you no disrespect, but I must ask you to leave. Now.”

The robed figures continued to stare at her out of their shadowed faces, their eyes unseen but felt. Were they all corpses?, Avery wondered. Somehow still moving and given some semblance of life? If so, it would explain the smell. But surely such a thing was impossible, even in Ezzez.

“Go,” the High Priestess repeated. “Now.”

Some of the Sisters had remained at the edges of the room, and these carried rifles and spears. At the tone of the High Priestess’s voice, they stepped forward, and their captain told the Father, “I will escort you out.”

The Father made another hissing noise, which might have been meant as a threat or a curse, or nothing at all, then turned, as if to go. Suddenly, he paused, and, slowly, very slowly, pivoted toward Layanna. Surprised, Avery glanced from the priest to the rogue Collossum, but she merely frowned back at the robed figure. The Father continued to stare at her, and Avery noticed the Sisters growing restless. Even Vursk and his soldiers stirred, some lifting their weapons again. Avery wished he could see the Father’s face, see what expression he wore—was it hunger? rapture? hate?—but he could see only shadow where the priest’s face should be and the glint, only the merest glint, of one eye.

At last, the Father turned back around and consented to have his party led from the room. Avery breathed easier when they were gone. A priestess began mopping up the blood.

“Never admit one of them into this temple again,” the High Priestess told one of her people, the senior woman who had spoken earlier, and the woman nodded, a ragged look on her face.

“You shouldn’t have been so civil,” General Vursk said, “I would have shot them for you on general principles if you’d asked.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t. They are no strangers to death, if you didn’t learn that just now. Whatever they are, we certainly don’t need them as enemies. The city has gotten quite complicated enough as it is.” Her gaze fell on Avery, Layanna and the others. “These are the outsiders who wish to find the nectar?” When Vursk affirmed that they were, she said to them, “I hope you don’t think this is a normal happening. The Order of the Restoration is new. I’ve never seen their like before. And I don’t care to ever again.”

“They weren’t natural,” said one of the Sisters.

“They weren’t of your world,” Layanna said, and she said it with such simple conviction that those in the room turned to her, even the woman mopping up the blood.

“What do you mean by that?” the High Priestess said.

But Layanna would say no more.

Chapter 2

“What did you mean?” Avery asked an hour later, as they were once more trundling through the streets of Ezzez, this time in the convoy that General Vursk had promised them, bound for the last known residence of Losg Coleel, owner and operator of Coleel Industries. The convoy was led by a certain Major Nezine. Green fog coiled around them, masking much of the city from sight. “Back there in the audience room?”

Layanna, who sat beside him (but, regrettably, barely touching him), said, “I … don’t entirely know.”

Janx grunted. He and Hildra sat opposite them in the troop transport vehicle; soldiers ranged to the side, all tense and holding their rifles at the ready. Avery’s party spoke in low voices so as not to be overheard, not that the locals spoke Ghenisan anyway. “Hell of a thing to not know,” Janx said.

“I only know that those things gave off a feeling …” Layanna shook her head. “It’s hard to describe. But I doubt they’re just some random local trouble.”

“You mean they’re relevant to us—our mission?” Avery said.

She bit her lower lip, a gesture that made him want to kiss her, even though he knew she would only refuse him.

“I hope not,” she said.

“Fucking aye,” said Hildra. “I hope we’ve seen the last of those bastards.”

Somehow Avery doubted that they had.

“But why did he stare at you like that?” Janx asked. “Don’t tell me he wanted your autograph.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps …”

“Yeah?”

“If I sensed something strange about him, maybe he sensed something strange about me.”

“Honey, you are strange,” said Hildra. “Even I know that.”

Vague shapes appeared in the eerie fog around them—appeared, then disappeared, like ghosts. The city was breathing.

“What’s that?” Avery said, some minutes later. The rear of the transport vehicle was open, and he’d been watching buildings recede through the mist to either side of the convoy when a curious figure on the street had caught his attention: seven feet tall, beaked and covered in brilliant red feathers.

Janx laughed. “That’s a Nisaar. Bird-folk.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard about them. I never thought to see one in real life.”

Lisam, who had accompanied them, chose this moment to lean forward and enter their conversation; Avery reminded himself not to speak too freely. “The Nisaar are indigenous to the area, just as my people are, and many live in the city. Usually they keep to their own quarter, but what with the fighting, they’ve been venturing out more. Some have joined our side. Others are trying to establish their own power, or joining the Dark Brothers in the Maze.”

“I ran into some Nisaar in the jungle once,” Janx said, with an exaggerated wince. “Not the friendliest sort.”

“The jungle tribes are more hostile than the individuals in the city,” Lisam allowed, “but then that’s true of humans, too.”

Avery thought of the short, thick, curved beak of the creature he had seen before the mist had swallowed it and tried to imagine its bite. Just as well to avoid them, he thought. Then he thought of the sort of humans capable of surviving in the Atomic Jungle. It might be best to avoid them, too.

The convoy bribed its way through another checkpoint and out into a vast no-man’s-land inhabited by ruined, bombed-out buildings that loomed like deformed giants in the fog. The jungle had overgrown this section even more thoroughly than in the sections they’d been in so far, and much of the vegetation was infected, perhaps even a majority of it—and so was the wildlife.

Avery saw something that might once have been a tiger crouching atop a crumbling, vine-overgrown strip center; its flesh was transparent so that Avery could see its organs and intestines, and its face had become eerily fish-like, complete with bulging eyes and long needle teeth dripping an orange fluid. Gills pulsed along its neck. Above it, some glowing, bioluminescent flying creatures, possibly mutated birds or bats, arced against a daytime moon, and the great cat watched their glowing shapes avidly.

“This is where the previous team disappeared,” Lisam said.

“What do you think got ‘em?” Hildra said.

“Could have been ambush. A hostile sect or tribe, maybe. Could have been agents of Octung. Could even have been some animal.” He shrugged. “All I know is that they radioed in that they’d reached this area, then never made contact again. Look, we’re entering the Maze of Dark Delights.”

They were passing through a surprisingly crowded quarter of the city. Peculiar shop signs blazed the alchemical equivalent of neon through the green fog. Red, gold and turquoise shone brightly, all tinged greenish. Avery saw figures moving down both sides of the streets.