I walked toward the tree with Anotine beside me, and only then did I begin quickly to describe the properties of the fruit as I knew them. Continuing with my explanation, I stepped up onto the bench next to where Brisden sat and reached into the low-hanging branches to pick a large specimen that in its bleached complexion seemed to emit its own light. Holding it in my hand, I could again smell that sweet aroma I associated with my daydreams of paradise. It brought me back to Misrix's Museum of the Ruins, where I had, myself, tasted the flesh of the delicacy. My discourse trailed off as I wondered for a moment how and when the fruit would change me, or if the fact that I had survived as long as I had in the mnemonic world was already a sign of its miraculous influence.

"It seems you are expecting quite a lot from it," said Ano-tine, bringing me back from my thoughts.

"Perhaps," I said, stepping down off the bench.

Brisden, who had been unusually silent for some time, let loose another stampede of words that I think had to do with the nature of miracles.

Anotine and I returned to Nunnly and knelt down on either side of him. I retrieved the scalpel from my boot and removed the protective sponge, flicking it off with my thumb. With the other hand, I brought the fruit up in front of us and made ready to cut it. The idea was to get as thin a slice of the pulp inside as I could so that it would melt in our patient's mouth. I trimmed away the skin from the outside of one half of it and then cut three hair's-width slices. When I had collected them in my palm, I handed Anotine the scalpel. Leaning low over Nunnly, I forced the wafers into his mouth.

"We'll wait for a few minutes and see if there is any effect," I said, resting back on my knees.

"If there isn't?" asked Anotine.

"I'll end his life," I said.

Anotine looked up, away from me, and took a deep breath. "Look, Cley," she said, "the sky is lightening. Day is coming."

From her expression, I couldn't tell if she was pleased with this or if it frightened her more than the night. I tilted my head and saw the stars fading into a sky of black and blue. Nunnly gave a sudden grunt, and I quickly turned my attention back to him.

"No," I said, as I watched the flesh of the engineer's face begin to pucker into wrinkles. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I had a sudden feeling in my stomach that it wasn't going to be good.

"He's turning black," cried Anotine, pointing to some spots that were forming on the skin around his mouth. These blemishes spread like spilled ink, dyeing every inch of his skin, the texture of which was also undergoing some rapid metamorphosis.

Before our eyes, in no more than a few seconds, Nunnly's body was transformed into a shriveled, dark mass, like a fallen plum that has rotted and dried in the sun. Anotine leaped to her feet and backed away from it.

"What kind of miracle is this?" she asked as if accusing me of some evil.

I shook my head but could not speak, and watched helplessly as she walked away to where Brisden was sitting. At the worst, I never expected an outcome so horrific, but I should have. This fruit of the memory world was not the fruit of paradise, but in its dripping pulp, its core, its very seeds, it was a beautiful symbolic mask for one of Below's million nightmares.

I sat there, trying to remember Nunnly, but I couldn't. What remained of him bore absolutely no resemblance to anything human, save for the fact that it was clothed in a shirt and trousers. All that came back to me was the image of a wisp of cigarette smoke. I left the mess where it lay and went over to the bench at the base of the tree, where the others sat. Brisden, eyes wide and perspiring like mad, was jawing away at a remarkable rate as if coming to some crescendo, and Anotine sat with her face covered by her left hand.

"If I had wanted to do him in, I never would have risked my life against the Delicate to save him," I explained to Anotine.

"I know, Cley. I'm sorry," she said, and waved away my comment.

"Have you got any ideas?" I asked.

She shook her head and stared past me at the fountain. "The disintegration will reach the village soon if it hasn't already, and then it won't be long."

"Are you giving up?" I asked.

"Aren't you?" she said.

"I could go out in search of the Delicate, but I doubt I could overcome him on my own."

"I doubt the two of us could overcome him," she said.

Just then, Brisden ceased his rant. He wiped his brow and looked up at us as if we had suddenly appeared before him.

"You've returned," I said, smiling.

"I was never gone, Cley. While you were turning my good friend, Nunnly, into a prune, I was arguing myself into a solution."

If it were anyone else speaking, I might have been offended, but I had grown accustomed to Brisden's unique sense of humor. "Who won the argument?" I asked.

"Who else?" said Brisden. "Now you two are going to do as I say."

"We're listening," said Anotine, who seemed to be taking him with perfect seriousness.

"Nunnly was a part of me, and I can hardly stand to continue living, myself, without him. I wish I had the time to sit and reflect on the loss of my companion, but now it is time for revenge. I want the Delicate, and I know how to destroy him."

"What should we do?" I asked.

"You two have already done enough. I want you to take your ridiculous spears and go hide behind the fountain over there. Whatever happens, and I mean whatever, don't come out of hiding. If you do, all will be ruined," he said.

"You can't defeat the Delicate by yourself," I told him.

"I won't be alone," he said. "I'll have the Doctor to keep me company." He placed his hand atop the lid of the glass sample jar and patted it. "Now go, quickly and keep quiet."

"What are you going to do?" asked Anotine.

"Be off," he said.

I was very apprehensive since, for most of the night, Brisden hadn't seemed to be in his right mind. Anotine took my arm, though, and pulled me away in the direction of the fountain. We stopped and lifted the spears where they lay near the entrance.

"There's a chance that he knows what he is talking about," she whispered to me as we took up our positions behind the fountain.

"There's a chance we might find a flying carpet and escape the island too," I said.

"Brisden has often amazed me with his insights," she told me. "His revelations are either uncanny in their brilliance or so bizarre they have no bearing upon reality."

"I think I know which this one is," I said, and my statement was confirmed when I heard the philosopher begin whistling, as loud as he could, the tune from the wooden box at Nunnly's.

"Give him a chance," she said.

We could watch him from where we knelt on the cold stones in the shadows. He was whistling with great vigor and swaying back and forth. After a few minutes, he stopped abruptly and sat in silence. I was about to tell Anotine that Brisden was out of his mind, when I heard the sound of footsteps echoing from the other side of the wall near the opening.

"He's here," she whispered, and I tightened my grip on the spear.

At first, I didn't think his enormous head could squeeze through the portal, but it did, like an infant's appearing from the birth canal. The Delicate was born into the secret place, pointed chin, twin braids, singed brown suit, and all. Once he was through, he stood and leaned over to brush the knees of his trousers.

"Hello, there," said Brisden, waving to him as though he were seeing an old friend.

"Greetings," said the Delicate, and waved back.

"Come sit down," said Brisden.

"One moment," he said, and stopped on his way to kneel over the remains of what had been the engineer. The huge head moved up and down the length of the shriveled carcass, sniffing and licking it here and there. When he had finished his investigation, he stood and continued on to the bench.