Hudson sank onto the low chair in his room with a wince for the pain it caused his knees. One net-scarred hand rose to rub at his temples, while black eyes closed with thought. It was difficult to weave his way through the intricate formalities and restrictions on even the most ?casual? conversation here. The oppressive heat and heavy moisture that lay on the air slowed the pace of all who dwelt here, and he could feel that same lethargy sinking into his bones.

Or perhaps it was simply the remnants of the illness that had laid him low almost as soon as they stepped off the ship. Half the crew had caught it, nearly, their systems unaccustomed to the fevers that this pestilential jungle bred. Most were on their way to recovery, but Hudson could still feel the draining effects that left his hands shaking if he tried to do too much at once.

In some ways the illness had been a blessing in disguise. The scant handful of days which had delayed the beginning of discussion had given him a chance to see the ways of these strange people in their own land. He still had little real understanding of how they thought, but at least now their customs and ceremonies were a little familiar. It had also taken him those days to school himself not to blush with every sight of the women of this land, in their garb of sheer gauzes ? practical in this land, but still enough to make him uncomfortable. He couldn?t begin to imagine Rhys? reaction if the older man had ventured the journey.

For now a panel of the same sheer gauze which made so much of the clothing was framed in the window, blocking out insects while allowing in the scant breeze. It was chokingly thick with the too-rich scent of night-blooming flowers, and beneath it the acrid bitterness of green leaves fallen to the jungle floor and rotting away. Hudson finally opened his eyes and looked around the room. They had been given comfortable enough housing, though that too was strange to his eyes.

Slick small tiles covered the floor and extended up the walls. The patterns were intricate and almost blindingly complex to follow. When he had still been in the grips of fever, the twisting paths of dark and light had felt like a maze to trap him in delirium. He wasn?t the only one to notice the effect. The sailors of the Escape, especially those who had also been struck by fever, had commented about it, in low and uneasy whispers. They were all in one large house on the outskirts of the city, and only Hudson had a room to himself. When meals were taken together, he could hardly avoid hearing those mutters.

Very few of the sailors were comfortable here. Captain Mabons had taken to fingering the wheel charm around his neck whenever one of the assigned servants was near. It was the snakes - the ever-present snakes ? which unnerved so many. Even Hudson suppressed a shudder, here in the unobserved silence of his room. The servants carried their snakes around draped over their shoulders, twining up their arms or even around their necks, and thought no more of it than Hudson would have thought of carrying a cat.

There were no cats here, nor dogs. Only snakes, small snakes which lived on the tiny bugs and smallest animals, larger snakes which feasted on mice and rats, and the very largest snakes. Those were housed in the temple, and Hudson had been ?privileged? to watch their feeding, earlier in the day. A half-grown pig had been lowered into a labyrinth, a maze where a twisting, coiling nest of snakes writhed in the center. He shuddered again with the memory of the unnatural alertness in the eyes of one snake that had lifted its head from the mass. That snake, and that one only, had freed itself from the knot and ventured into the paths of the maze. It was as if the snakes knew that they had to take turns.

Black eyes had creased at the corners while he watched the pig fleeing and the snake workings its implacable way through the maze. The nest of wrinkles that showed was the only expression of discomfort he had allowed himself. Beside him, Estha ? looking more comfortable in her native garb than she ever had in the heavy fabric of Rhydin ? was breathing deeply, in a sort of rapturous fascination with the sight. He was glad of her distraction ? it had allowed him to close his eyes when the snake reached the pig.

But attending that ceremony seemed to have broken through some wall which Hudson hadn?t even known existed. He was, finally, to be permitted an audience with the High Priestess. More than religious leader in this theocracy, she was the ruler in secular matters as well. If she approved the trade agreements laid out in convoluted conversations with Estha, everything would run smoothly. They could be sailing back to RhyDin by the day after tomorrow.

If she didn?t approve, these jungles would be the home of the Escape, her crew, and Hudson for weeks longer.