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all behind the table hung a painting of a small child； so wretchedly rendered the subject's sex was indeterminate。 To the left of the picture； which was signed Aping； lay another door； as securely closed as the one he'd just passed through。 But there was a voice audible from the far side： Vigor N'ashap； in a little ecstasy。
〃Again！ Again！〃 he was saying； then an outpouring in a foreign tongue； followed by cries of 〃Yes！〃 and 〃There！ There！〃
Gentle went to the door too quickly to prepare himself for what lay on the other side。 Even if he had…even if he'd conjured the sight of N'ashap with his breeches down and his Oethac prick purple…he could not have imagined Pie loh' pah's condition； given that in all their months together he had never once seen the mystif naked。 Now he did； and the shock of its beauty was second only to that of its humiliation。 It had a body as serene as its face； and as ambiguous； even in plain sight。 There was no hair on any part of it； nor nipples； nor navel。 Between its legs； however； which were presently spread as it knelt in front of N'ashap； was the source of its transforming self； the core its couplers touched with thought。 It was neither phallic nor vaginal； but a third genital form entirely； fluttering at its groin like an agitated dove and with every flutter reconfiguring its glistening heart； so that Gentle； mesmerized； found a fresh echo in ； each motion。 His own flesh was mirrored there； unfolding as it passed between Dominions。 So was the sky above Patashoqua and the sea beyond the shuttered window； turning its solid back to living water。 And breath； blown into a closed fist； and the power breaking from it： all there； all there。
N'ashap was disdainful of the sight。 Perhaps； in his heat； he didn't even see it。 He had the rnystif s head clamped between his scarred hands and was pushing the sharp tip of his member into its mouth。 The mystif made no objection。 Its hands hung by its sides； until N'ashap demanded their attention upon his shaft。 Gentle could bear the sight no longer。 He pitched his mind across the room towards the Oethac's back。 Hadn't he heard Scopique say that thought was power？ If so； Gentle thought； I'm a mote； diamond hard。 Gentle heard N'ashap gasp with pleasure as he pierced the mystif's throat； then he struck the Oethac's skull。 The room disappeared； and hot meat pressed on him from all sides； but his momentum carried him out the other side； and he turned to see N'ashap's hands go from the mystif's head to his own； a shriek of pain ing from his lipless mouth。
Pie's face； slack until now； filled with alarm as blood poured from N'ashap's nostrils。 Gentle felt a thrill of satisfaction at the sight； but the mystif rose and went to the officer's assistance； picking up a piece …of its own discarded clothing to help staunch the flow。 N'ashap twice waved its help away at first； but Pie's pliant voice softened him； and after a time the captain sank back in his cushioned chair and allowed himself to be tended。 The mystif s cooings and caresses were almost as distressing to Gentle as the scene he'd just interrupted； and he retreated； confounded and repulsed； first to the door； then through it into the antechamber。
There he lingered； his sight fixed upon Aping's picture。 In the room behind him； N'ashap had begun to moan again。 The sound drove Gentle out； through the labyrinth and back to his room。 Scopique and Aping had laid his body back on the bed。 His face was devoid of expression； and one of his arms had slid from his chest and hung off the edge of the boards。 He looked dead already。 Was it any wonder Pie's devotion had bee so mechanical； when all it had before it to inspire hope of recovery was this gaunt mannequin； day in； day out？ He drew closer to the body； half tempted never to enter it again； to let it wither and die。 But there was too much risk in that。 Suppose his present state was conditional upon the continuance of his physical self？ Thought without flesh was certainly possible…he'd heard Scopique pronounce on the subject in this very cell… but not； he guessed； for spirits so unevolved as his。 Skin； blood； and bone were the school in which the soul learned flight； and he was still too much a fledgling to dare truancy。 He had to go； vile as that notion was； back behind the eyes。
He went one more time to the window and looked out at the glittering sea。 The sight of its waves beating at the rocks below brought back the terror of his drowning。 He felt the living waters squirming around him； pressing at his lips like N'ashap's prick； demanding he open up and swallow。 In horror； he turned from the sight and crossed the room at speed； striking his brow like a bullet。 Returning into his substance with the images of N'ashap and sea on his mind； he prehended instantly the nature of his sickness。 Sco…pique had been wrong； all wrong！ There was a solid…oh； so solid…physiological reason for his inertia。 He felt it in his belly now； wretchedly real。 He'd swallowed some of the waters and they were still inside him； living； prospering at his expense。
Before intellect could caution him he let his revulsion loose upon his body； threw his demands into each extremity。 Move！ he told them； move！ He fueled his rage with the thought of N'ashap using him as he'd used Pie； imagining the Oethac's semen in his belly。 His left hand found power enough to take hold of the bed board； its purchase sufficient to pull him over。 He toppled onto his side； then off the bed entirely； hitting the floor hard。 The impact dislodged something in the base of his belly。 He felt it scrabble to catch hold of his innards again； its motion violent enough to throw him around like a sack full of thrashing fish； each twist unseating the parasite a little more and in turn releasing his body from its tyranny。 His joints cracked like walnut shells； his sinews stretched and shortened。 It was agony； and he longed to shriek his plaint； but all he could manage was a retching sound。 It was still music： the first sound he'd made since the yell he'd given as the Cradle swallowed him up。 It was short…lived； however。 His wracked system was pushing the parasite up from his stomach。 He felt it in his chest； like a meal of hooks he longed to vomit up but could not； for fear he'd turn himself inside out in the attempt。 It seemed to know they'd reached an impasse； because its flailing slowed； and he had time to draw a desperate breath through pipes half clogged by its presence。 With his lungs as full as he had hope of getting them； he hauled himself up off the ground by clinging to the bed； and before the parasite had time to incapacitate him with a fresh assault he stood to his full height； then threw himself face down。 As he hit the ground the thing came up into his throat and mouth in a surge； and he reached between his teeth to snatch it out of him。 It came with two pulls； fighting to the end to crawl back down his gullet。 It was followed immediately by his last meal。
Gasping for air he dragged himself upright and leaned against the bed； strings of puke hanging from his chin。 The thing on the floor flapped and flailed； and he let it suffer。 Though it had felt huge when inside 。him； it was no bigger than his hand： a formless scrap of milky flesh and silver vein with limbs no thicker than string but fully twenty in number。 It made no sound； except for the slap its spasms made in the bilious mess on the cell floor。
Too weak to move； Gentle was still slumped against the bed when； some minutes later； Scopique came back to look for Pie。 Scopique's astonishment knew no bounds。 He called for help； then hoisted Gentle back onto the bed； question following question so fast Gentle barely had breath or energy to answer。 But sufficient was municated for Scopique to berate himself for not grasping the problem earlier。
〃I thought it was in your head； Zacharias； and all the time…all the time it was in your belly。 This bastard thing！〃
Aping arrived； and there was a new round of questions； answered this time by Scopique； who then went off in search of Pie； leaving the guard to arrange for the filth on the floor to be cleaned up and the patient brought fresh water and clean clothes。
〃Is there anything else you need？〃 Aping wanted to know。
〃Food；〃 Gentle said。 His belly had never felt emptier。
〃It'll be arranged。 It's strange to hear your voice and see you move。 I got used to you the other way。〃 He smiled。 〃When you're feeling stronger；〃 he said； 〃we must find some time to talk。 I hear from the mystif you're a painter。〃
〃I was； yes；〃 said Gentle； adding an innocent inquiry。 〃Why？ Are you？〃
Aping beamed。 〃I am；〃 he said。
〃Then we must talk；〃 Gentle said。 〃What do you paint？〃
〃Landscapes。 Some figures。〃
〃Nudes？ Portraits？〃 〃Children。〃
〃Ah； children 。 。 。 do you have any yourself？〃
A trace of anxiety crossed Aping's face。 〃Later；〃 he said； glancing out towards the corridor； then back at Gentle。 〃In private。〃
〃I'm at your disposal；〃 Gentle replied。
There were voices outside the room。 Scopique returning with N'ashap； who glanced down into the bucket containing the parasite as he entered。 There were more questions； or rather the same rephrased； and answered on this third occasion by both Scopique and Aping； N