He squirmed helplessly. Then he caught sight of the plant that had snared him—the thick flesh-colored trunk, the crown of writhing tentacles. It exuded the odor of carbolic add. The pool of digestive acid glinted deep within its maw.
Nigel tree! He was caught by a carnivorous nigel tree!
Then, unexpectedly Joel felt the tentacles relax. He leaned gasping, choking against the trunk of the tree to which he was manacled. He was dazed from shock.
A voice said, "You're safe now, my son."
Joel shuddered, looked over his shoulder. A naked white-haired Ganelon was standing scarcely a yard off. He stooped and fumbled with Joel's manacles. They fell to the ground with a clank.
Joel's knees began to buckle. He threw his arms about the trunk.
"We came as quickly as we could," the Ganelon said in a kindly voice.
Joel asked, "You—you relayed my message to the Thinkers?"
"We are the Thinkers, my son. We were there." As he spoke, more of the creatures materialized. It was completely unnerving as if they were popping from another dimension.
They were a handsome, sprightly race. There wasn't a stick of clothing or an ornament in the crowd. Then Joel saw a familiar figure emerge from the undergrowth.