Poor Ja-khaz is worse than sick.
He had an encounter last night with a strange animal, and his defeat
was ignoble. The animal, a pretty thing, much like a kitten, was
hovering near when Ja-khaz, with rare courage and agility, threw
himself upon it.
And then what happened none of us can state with precision. We know we
held our noses and fled. And Ja-khaz! No words can fit him. He carries
with him an odor to devastate a province. We had to leave him ashore
and send him fresh raiment.
This is, verily, a land of surprises. Our hands and faces still smart
from the biting insects, and the perfume of the odorous kitten
promises to be ever with us.
Nofuhl is happy. We have discovered hundreds of metal blocks, the
poorest of which he asserts would be the gem of a museum. They were
found by Fattan-laiz-eh in the basement of a high building, all laid
carefully away upon iron shelves. The flood of light they throw upon
the manners and customs of this ludicrous people renders them of
priceless value to historians.
I harbor a suspicion that it causes Nofuhl some pleasure to sit upon
the cool deck of the Ziotuhb and watch Bhoz-ja-khaz walking to and fro
upon the ruins of a distant wharf.