This beast received and read the note, while the messenger hovered nigh. Then, steadying a pad against the floor with one front claw, he wrote on it with a stylus held in the other. What he had written he showed to the snake which lay coiled beside him, and upon obtaining a hiss of approval, folded the note and gave it to the little bat, who flew back with it to Myles.
On the paper, written in unmistakable Porovian characters, were the words: “Welcome to Yat, Myles Cabot. You and your mate are our guests. We know of no country of either Cupia or Vairkingi. This is the land of the Whoomangs, and I am Boomalayla, their king. You have permission to approach the throne.”
So that explained the strange plants, the dirt roads, the unfamiliar architecture, and the absence of Cupians and Vairkings! This must be a third continent intermediate between the other two. Well, the plane was intact, and King Boomalayla had assured him that they were guests, so that it was just as well that they had landed on this Azores of the boiling seas. Reassured, the earth-man made his way through the strange throng to the foot of the throne where he bowed low before the hideous reptile monarch.
Little Quivven, with a cry of glad surprise, rushed over to him and nestled confidingly by his side. Placing one arm protectingly around her, he boldly confronted the winged king.
This beast, after some penciled conversation with his serpent adviser, handed Myles a note reading as follows: “Our nation was founded many years ago by a creature closely resembling yourself. Therefore you are an honored guest among us. We have long awaited this day. It is true that you have killed the bodies of two of my subjects, and thereby subjected their souls to a premature birth. The penalty for this would ordinarily be to have a similar death imposed upon your own body. But because of your resemblance to our great originator, Namllup, I shall spare your body. Furthermore, I fear that, like him, you may perhaps have no soul, although this deficiency can easily be supplied.”
Myles read the note and handed it to Quivven, then pointed to the writing materials of the saurian. Instantly two of the tiny winged messengers brought him a pad and stylus.
Thus supplied, he asked the king: “Great ruler, does your offer of protection include my wings and the black creature who guards them in the public square outside?”
“And how about little me?” asked Quivven, reading over his shoulder.
“He has already pledged his friendship to both of us,” replied Myles, handing the note to one of the tiny pterosaurs.
Back came the answer from the king: “You and yours shall all be protected. I will now send guards to relieve your guard at the wings, and to summon him into my presence.”