"I apologize for not being more help to you," I said.

"There was a period after I took you from the chair that I thought you might expire on me," she said. "The other specimens never exhibited such a dire reaction to it."

"Why do you think that was?" I asked.

She began walking again, and I could see that we were now heading for the field that lay between the wood and the terraced village.

"There seems to be something quite different about you," she said. "You are more like my colleagues and I than the other specimens that were sent. You are more …I suppose I would say substantial."

"Are you saying I am thick?"

She laughed and placed her hand on my shoulder for a moment. "No. I can't quite put my finger on it, but you have a kind of aura about you. You actually seem to have feelings."

"I do," I said.

"Yes. After having to lie with you last night in order to make sure your heart rate and breathing returned to normal, I determined that it would not be right to subject you to the chair again. I'm not looking to discover death, only the present."

I could not help but smile.

"I dreamt about you after I fell asleep," she said. "I'll have you know I never dream. As long as I have known Doctor Hellman, he has always spoken to me about his dream theories. I understood the concepts, but I always doubted their validity because I had never had the experience. Quite startling, it is."

We reached the wood and entered it along a dirt path. I could see now what I had missed in the darkness the night I had arrived. The leaves that fell everywhere around us, twirling slowly in the breeze, covering the ground, were not brown and dead, heralding the approach of autumn. They came from the branches with the deepest green.

Anotine saw me stop to watch their descent. I stooped over and picked one up. "They began falling only last week," she said. "Something is seriously wrong with the island."

"Nunnly told me it was disintegrating," I said.

"I'd rather not think about it," she told me, and began walking again.

"Can you tell me what your dream was then?" I asked.

"I saw you wrestling a monster," she said. "You were fighting for your life. It was very troubling."

"A monster?" I asked.

"Yes, a creature with horns and fur, great flapping wings and sharp teeth. It was much like the one that visited the island years ago."

"The creature had actually been here?" I asked.

"A foul beast—it flew in from out of the clouds one afternoon. We were all quite frightened. Nunnly and Brisden threw rocks at it. The Fetch was beside itself, flying about it, biting at its back and arms."

"What came of it?" I asked.

"They managed to chase it off, but for weeks afterward we lived in fear that it would return."

"And how did I fare in the dream?" I asked.

"I think you lost," she said quietly.

It was obvious that the experience had upset her, so I did not ask for more details. After rounding a turn in the path, we came to a grassy clearing in the wood near the rim of the island. Doctor Hellman stood there, dressed in a black suit and coat, staring up as if studying the wispy clouds that moved slowly across the sun. His right hand rested on his beard, and in his left, he held the handle of a small leather bag the same color as his attire.

Behind him stood an enormous wooden contraption, resembling a catapult of old, which at its base contained a large flywheel full of rope, like a giant's fishing reel. This rope threaded through metal rings embedded sequentially along a thick beam that jutted up at a forty-five-degree angle and out over the edge. Attached to the end of the beam was a large pulley through which the rope was fitted. At the end of the rope was a wicker basket, like a gondola for a balloon, big enough to hold a horse. There was also a crank handle and gear train affixed to the farside of the machine.

"Good day," he said to us when he noticed our approach.

"Are you ready, Doctor?" asked Anotine.

"The question is," said Hellman, "is Mr. Cley ready?"

I felt a seed of nausea begin to sprout in my stomach. "An experiment?" I asked.

Anotine laughed.

"Nothing to be afraid of Cley," said the Doctor.

"Will it cause irreparable damage?" I asked.

"Only to your sense of self-importance," he said.

"Don't worry," said Anotine. "The Doctor only needs you to help him with his instruments."

"Let's go," said Hellman. "Anotine, you will work the crank. Try not to drop us in the ocean."

"I'll do my best," she said.

"Your assurance is underwhelming," he said as he stepped toward the basket, which dangled a foot off the edge. Leaning over carefully, he opened a small door in the side of the waist-high compartment. "You first, Cley," he said, and swept his hand in front of him, motioning for me to climb into the basket.

I stepped forward and then hesitated.

"Don't look" called Anotine.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my legs beginning to feel weak.

"Where else," he said, "but down, of course."

I closed my eyes and reached out to grab the edge of the basket. The Doctor took my arm and guided me into the gondola. Once I was inside on the pliant, unsteady floor, I heard him step in and the door close behind him.

"All right, my dear," he said. "Off we go."

There was a high-pitched whine followed by the rhythmic metallic click of gears engaging. The basket lurched slightly forward, and, for a panicked moment, I thought I was going to be flung out. Still with eyes closed, I seized the Doctor by the sleeve of his coat.

"What are we doing?" I yelled.

"A little daydreaming," he said.

12

I COULD HEAR THE TIMBER SHAFT OF THE WINCH ABOVE us creaking with the strain of our weight. The pulley squealed and its cry traveled along the taut rope as we were slowly lowered in fits and starts. Increasing my grip on the Doctor's coat, I worked at trying to balance myself.

"You can look now, Cley," he said. "I'm afraid we're still alive."

I slowly opened my eyes as we passed the bottom of the floating island. I don't know exactly what I expected to see, but I never guessed that it would be a gigantic wedge of earth like the clump of dirt that trails the stem of a weed pulled from the ground. Tree roots jutted out the bottom and interlaced in a mesh that, though it was impossible, held the entire thing together. There was no rational explanation for how something so immense might stay aloft in midair. Only the imagination could so completely cancel the effects of gravity.

"Quite a marvel," said Doctor Hellman, smiling at the sight of the foundation as we descended beyond it.

I nodded, but could not hide my terror of feeling like an ant on a string.

"I am never more alive than when I am dangling out over nothing," he said.

"I can't say I share the sentiment," I told him.

"It takes some getting used to," he said. "If you can muster the courage to stare down over the edge of the basket, it will literally frighten the fear out of you, and I think you'll feel much better."

I inched my way across the wicker compartment and grabbed the rim of the waist-high wall. Cautiously, I leaned out a few inches and stared down. A blast of wind came up from below and blew my hair back as I took in a view of the silver ocean, stretching out endlessly to all points of the compass.. The sight was so awesome, I could feel my anxiety rapidly shrinking in the face of it.

After a few minutes of this, I turned back to the Doctor, feeling much better. "I think it worked," I said.

"Fear will always fall to wonder in those who are capable of it," he said.

"What should I do now?" I asked.