Horton's entreaty to rescue Flintlock is ignored, although the Eld register surprise to hear their own language come from the clanking maw of a wooden soldier. A sack is thrown over Horton's head, and he is brusquely rushed along, through the rag room, tripping up stairs, through the thick scents of honey and horseflesh, turning at odd intervals, along hallways, more stairs, waiting at a door, being shoved forward.
Horton hears several exchanges between Eld:
The party awakes, sore and cold, their skin still ruddy from a rough scrubbing and their wounds mended. The are naked except for a simple gown of material that feels more like paper than cloth. All equipment is gone. Your wrists and ankles are bound with loops of blue goo.
You have been dumped unceremoniously in a pile in the corner of a white-tiled room. The room is quite large—larger than any of the rooms you have encountered in the strange structure, so far, although, without access to the Crooked Theodolite, you can't be precise. White steel tables run along two of the walls. Piled on top is a strange array of rubbery hoses, bulbous lumps that could only be described as flesh sacs, transparent pieces panels, and weirdly curving silver-metal tools
Deet and Schroff are not present, nor are the pirates.
Two Eld, unarmored, but dressed in billowing jumpsuits that seem to move with a life of their own, are working at a nearby table. A third Eld, the one in cucumber-and-rose notes your awakening.
He addresses you in Eldish (Horton and Wikerus only):
Actions?
More on Friday! Monday!