The last thing Ark remembered was Mucum’s cry and the shells quivering like a million dim gas lamps. “I was being chased by guards with swords…. I tried to warn the King, but they found me and …” Ark finally took in his surroundings. The room had to be deep in the heart of the tree. The walls and curved dome of the ceiling were gnarled and fissured. In the gaps, gaslights flickered, filling the space with a drowsy warmth. Ark could hear a constant background hum and an odd clanking noise coming from behind the only door.

“The King? Well, we don’t have much to do with ’im down ’ere.” The man talked about Quercus as if the court was in another country. “Anyways. Oi was just checkin’ the valves before bed when Oi ‘eard a scream. Now, Joe, Oi says to meself, oh, that’s me name, boi the way!” Joe leaned over the bed and unraveled a long, stringy arm.

“Arktorious Malikum. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Ark felt unsure about shaking the thin, papery hand but found the grip strong and calmingly cool to the touch.

“Waarghhh …,” continued Joe, retrieving his hand. “That screech don’t sound loike a ratty to me, I says: What do yow think, Flo?”

Ark looked puzzled for a second.

“Sorry, loike. That’s moi daughter, Flo. Yow’ll meet her soon enough. She came skitterin’ along with me and we popped our old ‘eads through the porthole. There yow were. A pair o’ somewhat stinky boys, Oi must admit, clingin’ to the ladder … tide about to turn. What’s to do, eh?”

Ark looked at this tall, friendly creature with fascination.

“Couldn’t leave yer! Oi says to Flo, We’d better get goin’. She gave me a smile that would melt a mushroom and we reached out quick to pluck the pair of yer free loike nice bits o’ iron ore from the seam. It was a close run ’fing!” Joe shuddered, shutting his eyes for a second. “Your matey was a bit on the ’eavy side, but he warn’t nothing compared to a good load o’ rock. Mind yow, our little Flo was huffin’ and puffin’ like an enjin by the time she dropped him down. Yow were both out for the count boi then. Lot o’ gas ‘round ’ere, must’ve knocked yow out! Warghhh!”

Joe was a natural-born tale-teller, making near death by tidal wave sound like a jolly adventure. Ark smiled at the thought of Mucum being heaved over the shoulder by one of these slender creatures.

“As Oi slammed back the porthole and dumped yow in an ’eap on the ground, ’Er Majesty” — and the man swept his arms around to indicate the tree they were deep inside — “decided to blow. One second later and us lot would’ve been porridge.”