“Do you ever have rain here?”
“Yes, my Alan. How else would plants live and crops thrive? But again, we do not suffer from excesses.”
“But don’t you have hurricanes that last from six to seven weeks? Surely those are excesses.”
“Hurricanes? I do not know the word.”
“Hurricanes—winds—tornadoes.”
“Why they affect only the polar regions, and nothing lives there.”
“Well,” laughed Alan “I think your world is a great improvement on ours.”
The scenery they passed on this pleasure trip was very varied, but very similar to the world he knew at its best. Here he could imagine he was in the highlands of Scotland with its crags and hills and torrents. There in Southern France with its vineyards sloping to the river’s edge. Again, the warmth of colouring suggested the tropics, and the next moment they were flying over great inland arms of a sea, that were reminiscent of the fjords of Norway.
They descended at last, and went to the Jkak to bid him farewell. There a surprise awaited Alan.
“My son,” said the Jkak. “Our Ipso-Rorka has decided to travel in the Chlorie to Hoormoori. She desires to reach her father’s side without any more delay. Taz-Ak Kulmervan has obtained permission from his kinswoman to attend her on her journey. But you need have no fear, my Alan. I doubt whether you will even see the Princess. She will keep within the precincts of her apartments, and will be attended exclusively by her maid.”