She crossed a narrow swaying footbridge that led to the entrance of a small woven shanty. The music was coming from inside. Eva waved her hand over a blue light embedded in the door—as she had seen Rovender do—and the light changed color to yellow.

“In. Come,” the voice sang in a soft hush. “Come in.”

“Hello,” Eva said, pushing the door open and stepping into the shadowy cramped abode. A hazy, heavy scent of burning soap and spices greeted her. Above, a knot of thick drapes and curtains hung down from the ceiling in a radial pattern like the holograms she had seen of a spider’s web. Looking at the maze of drapery, Eva bumped into something small, which startled her so that she almost tripped and fell.

The floor was covered in a vast array of objects. Boxes, vases, containers, and canisters covered every centimeter of the walk space.

“Gifts given,” the raspy voice intoned. “Given gifts. Watch where you venture, Eva the Ninth.”

Eva treaded slowly through the hoard of gifts, careful not to upset anything. Among the assemblage on the floor was the object creating the music. An illuminated vase flickered in time to the otherworldly tune it emitted through a lengthy contorted horn. Behind it, heavy tasseled curtains closed the entry room off from the remainder of the hut.

“Do not fear me,” the whisper said from behind the curtain. “Fear me not. And do enter.”

Eva gulped, reached up, and pushed the curtain aside.

The remainder of the small dwelling was also dark, save for the wan beam of sunlight shining through the large window. And this did little to warm the morning chill still trapped within. The mixed scent of flowers, spices, and oils was much stronger in here, causing Eva to feel nauseous. The flood of gifts concealed the creaking floor. The weave of the rounded walls was decorated in a simple pattern, which continued up to the roof. As in the entryway, dark drapes led the way in, toward the shadowy recesses of the shack, where Eva spied the source of the voice.

Sitting in the gloom, away from the sunlight, was a round, fat, pale being. It was larger than Eva, with numerous stumpy arms. It sat—perfectly balanced—on a one-legged stool.

The two regarded each other in silence, as the fat being fanned itself in a lazy manner. Next to it a tentacle ending in three pincers hung from the shadowed ceiling; the tentacle was depositing clear eggs into a bowl. One of the being’s runty arms stretched out and grabbed an egg, passed it to another of its many hands, and slipped it into its large mouth. Eva could see something tiny and wriggling inside the clear eggshell before it was consumed. Her stomach lurched.