I bend low and lean to the side. It’s beak tastes only rock
and dirt. It pulls up quickly but not before I flip onto its back. My hand is
around its neck. I am in control. It carries me across the last half of the moor
to Amazat’s cottage. I land on the roof – the place from which he’s least
likely to expect an attack – and leave the beast bound and ready in case I
require an areal escape.
Amazat has surely been alerted to my presence. The flying
lizard’s howl can be heard for miles. I’m curious what his reaction will be
when he sees me.
I enter thru a trap door in the roof. The lock is easy to
pick. I’m wondering why it has a lock. Is it merely out of habit to put a lock
on every door and window, or has he had problems with unwanted guests entering
from the roof? And why is there a trap door on the roof? Does he use it to expose
subjects to lighting like Dr. Frankenstein in the Boris Karloff film? Amazat
always was an admirer of the bizarre and occult.
I make my way thru the house. It’s lit only by windows and
candles. I wonder what the candles are made of. They appear to be wax and not
electric, and yet the wax doesn’t melt. Such a substance could prove useful. I
take a sample.
I hear no one moving about. Is he not home? Or is he waiting
by the front door for me? I hurry down the stairs.
