Maya’s on her way home. Or at least that’s what Sara assures me is happening.  I’ll wait to see for myself before I actually believe it. But we’ve all agreed that she won’t be staying there. No. The more I think about it, the more I want her here by my side. In fact I can’t wait to see her I didn’t tell Sara or any of the Cadavat this. Sara won’t change her mind so I thought I’d kick up a storm and rack up some sympathy points we can cash in later. I threatened again to drop everything and walk out of here if she wasn’t brought home and prepared properly for this place.

To be honest, I can’t help remembering how relaxed Maya was when they took her through the gateway and how she smiled and mouthed the words ‘Don’t worry.” Did she somehow know beforehand? It’s possible. Sara could have arranged things with her through ‘Sixteen’. I’m not going to ask ‘Sixteen’ about it. He’s ‘piggy in the middle’ for a lot of things right now and I’m not going to add further pressure.

Breven noticed a change in us. When he came today there were no wisecracks or threats. He looked concerned and spent a lot of time staring at Armbranch before asking if we were both feeling okay. I felt like telling him we weren’t, that we were both sick and we might poison his ‘root’ if he tossed us into it. Something told me to stay quiet. Who knows, but Breven might decide to ‘cure’ us if he thought we’d damage that thing. The thought of a ‘cure’ made me more uneasy than the thought of getting tossed into the pit.

He’s stationed new puppets outside our quarters. Bigger, meaner looking puppets. Even Armbranch thought they might be hard to tackle if we tried to make a run for it. I just hope Breven didn’t put them there because he thinks it’s almost time to feed his plant.

Spent hours below yesterday, but I didn’t spot the boy. It was all a bit depressing really. There’s something so oppressive about those deeper passages that makes them feel more like natural rock tunnels instead of man made corridors. The atmosphere was so cold, so unwelcoming. It was probably for the best I couldn’t find the accommodation area Armbranch mentioned. I was on such a downer that I might not have made a good impression if I’d met the kid.

Perhaps there’s some kind of ‘gloom’ spell wandering those corridors.

Or maybe it’s just the after effects of that nightmare. Even now it’s still lingering in my mind as if to haunt me.

I’ll try to find him again tonight. Armbranch is coming with me this time.

Had the most dreadful nightmare last night. It easily surpassed anything I’ve dreamed of before and it was so bad I don’t know whether to write it down or try and let it go. Deep down, though, I know it won’t go anywhere. Not for the next eight months anyway. And in an odd sort of way, by writing it down, I’m hoping to at least partly exorcise it from my head.

I was trapped in a windowless, doorless room whose stone walls sweated damp like the skin of some terrible creature. Maya was screaming somewhere beyond the walls, screaming and shouting and calling out my name. She wanted me, needed me. But I couldn’t get to her. The sounds were so dim and confused I didn’t even know which direction they were coming from. Every time I kicked and beat the wall to try and find a weak point, the sounds seemed to change direction until I was spinning around in circles.

She was in labour. I knew that. I also knew there were others caring for her. But not caring enough. That’s why she was calling out my name so desperately. Something was wrong. My suspicions spiralled out of control when everything went silent. Then I heard a wail. Not a baby’s wail. No. Nor was it an animal sound. It was something in between, something so terribly wrong I didn’t dare breathe for fear it might hear me.

The wall collapsed and Armbranch pushed his way through. Only he didn’t look like my friend anymore. He was twice the size and his eyes blazed and crackled with such a mix of hate and spite and triumph I’d rather have looked into the eyes of the Basilod. He was holding something in his hands, something wrapped in a blanket. It stirred. Then that animal cry came again and I knew I didn’t want to see what was in there. I moved towards him regardless. I had to see it, had to understand what had happened before I went to find Maya. My heart jumped with joy when a tiny pink hand rose from beneath the blanket. It looked like it was waving me forward. Then, as I stepped closer, another hand rose up. This one wasn’t pink. It was brown and dry and the fingers were as gnarled and bent as twigs.

Armbranch laughed a long, mocking laugh that seemed to go on forever before sinking away. He tilted the bundle. I saw a head, brown and round as a coconut, but with a pink nose, pink mouth, and my blue eyes.

It wailed again, and somewhere in the middle of that wail I awoke sweating and panting and feeling so empty inside my heart might have been torn out.

It was a long while before my pulse settled. I didn’t light any candles. I just stared into the darkness and tried to make sense of that nightmare. I know it meant something, and not something so absurd as Armbranch getting physical with my wife. No. It meant something else. I had to do something for the baby. I had to sort something out, otherwise it would enter the world only half human with some dreadful influence from the Parawerthan running through its genes.

God it’s haunted me all morning. I need a distraction. Time to go and find that kid.

Armbranch spotted the boy today on one of the lower levels of the compound. It’s an area whose corridors are packed with storage rooms and, though Sara has discouraged us from going so deep below, the people who work down there have grown used to seeing Armbranch wandering the corridors. He’s always gone down there when it’s raining outside. When anyone questioned him, he simply said he needed exercise or his limbs would seize up. A ridiculous excuse, but it worked every time.

Personally, I’ve no interest in investigating storerooms. But Armbranch loves it, says he’s always on the lookout for new fruits, vegetables, or seeds to analyse.

The boy didn’t look like a prisoner. Armbranch said he wearing clean jeans and a yellow t-shirt with the words California Surf printed onto it. He was relaxed and cracking jokes with the Cadavat store man who was showing him around a storeroom filled with crates of dried fish. Once they were done, Armbranch followed him up one level into what appeared to be a small accommodation area tucked away amid a warren of corridors containing conference and education areas.

I’m going to go down there tomorrow and see if I can contact him.

The distraction will do me good. Maya is still nauseous each morning and the thoughts of her suffering alone in the Mill House makes me want to scream with frustration.

I had a most unusual encounter in the canteen today. Someone from back home. The instant I saw him I knew he didn’t belong here. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because his skin was as ‘Irish white’ as mine or that he was wearing grubby jeans or simply that he didn’t seem to fit in. But it was so surreal—especially the way he stared at me as if he recognised the same ‘foreign’ look. Though his face was dirty and his hair bedraggled, I could tell he was quite young. Late teens or early twenties I’d guess. He was with two Cadavat soldiers and they whisked him away before I got a chance to get any nearer.

I don’t think they were rushing him away from me. No. I just think they were in a hurry somewhere. I’m curious. So curious in fact, I’m going to mention this guy to Sara later.

Someone from back home! That was the last thing I expected to see this morning when I woke. It’s a pity I was alone. I’d love to hear Armbranch’s take on it had he seen the boy, too.

Cook’s meal last night was unsurprisingly delicious. She steamed the jargat and laid it out on a bed of beans and brown peas which, she said, would draw the flavours from the meat. What she didn’t tell me, though, was that when jargat was steamed it exuded a mild stimulant from its bones that gave the flesh an extra succulence and made it roll almost liquidly down my throat. Obviously Cook was well used to this stimulant. It had little effect on Armbranch either. But it made me giddy. My head was spinning when I returned to my room and I spent the next few hours chatting with Maya about the most ridiculous things like toys, universities, and all manner of future parenting worries.

I think she thought I was drinking, and a good while passed before she believed the fish had caused it.

I felt no hangover. When I bumped into Dohan outside the canteen this morning my mind was as fresh as ever. He mentioned nothing about restarting our training. Didn’t surprise me one bit. That’s how it goes here. You start something. It stops. Then, after a few days, it starts again and continues in spurts until you finally reach the end. Apart from feeling we’re wasting time, I’m not too bothered. It gives me the opportunity to talk that bit more with Maya.

Armbranch came to my room this morning with Cook in tow. She immediately announced that we had to work for our lunch today. If we wanted to eat anything except plain vegetables tonight, she said, we had to go underground with her.

I was confused at first. Then I saw the basket full of netting she’d left in the doorway and remembered she was taking us fishing. And not in any lake or pool. No. She told us that a river flowed deep beneath the city. Part of it branched off and passed beneath the compound, and some great jargat fish could be caught there. We followed her down along a maze of passages and deep stairways until we came to a cavern. A section of river passed along the back of this cave. The water rolled along as smoothly and silently as oil.

I had presumed that we’d cast the nets into the water. Ha. Silly me. When I suggested this, Cook just laughed and said we’d never catch a jargat that way. They were too nimble and powerful in water. We had to lure them out of it. She passed me a small net and directed Armbranch and I to sit about ten metres back from the riverbank. Then she started laying trails of a lumpy dough like substance she called ‘wormpaste’ from the riverbank towards us.

Finally, after telling us to toss the net when we heard the fish approaching, she killed the light and the cave was plunged into absolute darkness.

The first fish came flopping our of the water about twenty minutes later. We could hear it snapping up the wormpaste and Cook netted it easily. She lit a torch to give us a look. And, though it looked more like a big haddock, its lower fins were as thick and supple as stumpy legs. They could stay out of water for up to an hour—especially when they were following the scent of wormpaste, she said before killing the light.

Fishing in the dark. Though is sounds difficult, we spent a pleasant few hours down there. I didn’t catch anything. Armbranch, though, caught one for each of us. Cook is preparing them now. Can’t wait.

Training postponed for today. Dohan didn’t give us a reason, but hinted it had to do with a murder case he’d been investigating recently. Something had come undone, he said. And the way he said it so conspiratorially (he actually showed emotion), made me wonder if perhaps the murder victim had come alive and wanted to pass over valuable information. Crazy, I know. But entirely possible. I felt a joyous sense of  achievement for actually thinking like that instead of ruminating about other, more mundane, reasons he might have for abandoning us.

And when I told Armbranch about my theory, he congratulated me, told me I was finally starting to think with a more open mind about this world. Ha. The dead arise. They’d think you crazy back home for contemplating such a thing. Here, though, they clap you on the back and tell you’re a smart fellow. .

I was annoyed at the prospect of being left alone with my thoughts (and an excited Armbranch) for the day. I’d hoped the training would have distracted me from thinking about babies for a while. I needn’t have worried. I guess Armbranch sensed my mood and didn’t mention babies all day. Instead, he told me that Cook wanted to take us fishing tomorrow. He suspected it would be no normal fishing excursion and spent much of the afternoon quizzing me about fishing methods back home.

He wanted to be prepared for anything Cook might surprise us with, he said. Deep down, I knew he was mostly trying to distract me.

Spent much of last night chatting with Maya again about baby things. My sense of shock is slowly giving way to a sense of excited acceptance. Many tough questions, however, linger on the borders of my consciousness and threaten to overwhelm me if I ruminate too much on them. Chief of all, the one question that absolutely refuses to go away, is the thought that the baby might be infected with something I’m carrying.

We’ve agreed that I should tell the Cadavat what happened and ask their advice. But I won’t do it just yet. No. I need time to get my head together first. That news will be broken as part of a plan. And I haven’t got a notion yet as to what that plan might consist of.

Most of what we spoke about was practical stuff about names, godparents, who else we should tell, and when we should tell them. This is the kind of news that might draw Maya’s family here from Argentina. And that could be problematic to say the least. We talked a lot about colours, too. Baby colours. We never were ‘Blue is for boys, Pink is for girls’ people. But, considering our child won’t get a ‘normal’ upbringing by any stretch of the imagination, we’ve decided to start out conservatively. We also need to discover the sex of the baby ASAP. Doctor says an ultrasound at about 20 weeks will reveal this. There’s another method, though, that will tell us a bit earlier. It’s called amniocentesis and it’s a test that’s used to detect any chromosomal abnormalities.

The doctor recommends this test. But not for another ten weeks.

Abnormalities. The very word makes me shiver.

So we’re going to have a baby. Wow! It’s fantastic new. Yet, in a way, I feel cheated. I should be with Maya right now. We should be sharing this together, not a zillion miles away. I’m certain of one thing. I’ll be there for the birth. I don’t care if I have to put the Purdy shotgun to Sara’s head, I’ll return to Singleton for that.

Must sign off now. We’re starting our dome training tomorrow and I need some rest.

Couldn’t sleep much last night so I finally went to Armbranch’s room and told him the news.

He was absolutely over the moon. I’ve no idea how Gethinol’s reproduce, but he easily understood the concept of human conception when I explained things. When I was done he did a little dance around the room and said he was looking forward to getting to know little Ramaya (his name, not mine) when ever he/she arrived.

I finally fell asleep on his bed as he was writing a congratulation letter to Maya.

Ramaya! Come to think of it, that’s not a bad name.

Still waiting for someone to pinch me or slap me in the face.

I need to talk to someone here about it, and soon. Otherwise I’ll explode.

Someone come and pinch me. Please. Please. Someone come and pinch me and slap my face and tell me I dreamed about the doctor’s results and that everything is normal back home.

That’s what I spent much of last night and today hoping for.

But nobody came and pinched me, or slapped my face, or told me I was dreaming. And as night passed into day, the realisation that Maya is pregnant took root in my mind and settled there. At least nobody needs to ask again about what happened that final night back home. It’s obvious.

I was so surprised with the news that, three hours after receiving Maya’s mail, I was still speechless. I just stared into the distance, started into a future I’d never even dreamed about. True, we’d talked about having children. One of the main reasons we moved into the countryside was so our future offspring would have a more natural environment to grow up in instead of a city. But we’d never, ever got around to making a plan yet.

Now this!

It’s impossible. Ludicrous. Fantastic. Shocking. Beautiful.

And though I spent much of last night and today discussing things with my wife, I can still barely get my thoughts straight. So she’s suffering morning sickness. Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t ANYONE think of that? Well, Ana did. She sent a cute congratulations email this morning with an apology in the footnote saying she couldn’t tell me her suspicions because she didn’t feel it was her right. Turned out that Maya suspected it for a few days, too, although she didn’t tell anyone. It was only when the results of the urine test came back that all was finally revealed. Naturally, the doctor said nothing to the others until she’d told me. Now they all know, and they’re all excited.

I’m excited, too. But the shock hit me so hard Armbranch got worried and called Sara to my room. God!  I nearly told her everything. The words were about to spill out of my mouth when Armbranch sensed something was wrong and shushed me up. I’m grateful to him for that. Mayhem might ensue if Sara finds out.

She recommended I get some air and left it at that. She knew something was up, though. I saw it in her eyes.

I’ll need to be careful what I say in future.

Results are back. Maya’s pregnant! Good God in Heaven, Maya’s pregnant!

We have the next two days off so Armbranch and I spent this morning relaxing, surfing, listening to music, and discussing the dome. We went up top after lunch and spent a while staring at it and wondering what might be going on in there. Armbranch is fascinated by it. I’ll admit I am too. We didn’t speculate too much, though, on how the whole thing works. It’s easier just to accept that whatever power lies behind those walls is capable of doing what it can do. It might be easier to figure out the vastness of the Universe than to figure out that place.

Maya’s still feeling ill back home. But at least her condition is stable. The nausea hasn’t worsened, and judging by the tones of her mails I think she’s getting used to it. The doctor asked her for blood and urine samples today. She agreed. Getting the urine sample was easy. The blood, however, wasn’t. Poor Maya. She always had a fear of needles and I can’t imagine how difficult it was for her to take three samples without a helping hand. She achieved it, though. And I’m so very proud of her for that.

The doctor has sent off the samples to a colleague in Cavan General Hospital and is expecting some results tomorrow evening at the latest.

Dohan told us we’d begin training in the dome today. To be honest, I thought we’d never see the inside of it. Yet, when he told us he’d be bringing us in there this afternoon, my gut sagged with disappointment. After all these months speculating what might be in there, it didn’t seem right that we should be simply ‘brought in there’ without any fanfare. I’d been expecting some kind of build up to our grand entrance. At the very least I’d been hoping for a few lectures about the place with explanations of what happened in there. After all, we’ve been here for months and nobody has said anything about it. I suppose I created the mystique about it myself. And Armbranch, of course. We’ve spent hour upon hour discussing its significance.

Dohan’s casual announcement immediately diluted the mystery of the place and relegated it from being something potentially mind blowing to being just another building instead of something special. My gut sank lower when he told us there was only one training room inside it. But it was a special room, he said. It was then that I realised our humourless, efficient teacher was actually toying with us. For the first time since we’d met him, he smiled a smile that held no secrets. Any room in any house in Borkon could be replicated in there, he said. All it needed was a few items from the original room and an activation of a Lavun based spell.

He didn’t mention the name of the spell.

I thought he was joking until he took us into the dome shortly after four this afternoon. We entered it from beneath. After dropping to one of the lower levels in the complex, we started up again along a single spiral staircase. We passed through three heavily manned checkpoints before climbing up through a fourth gate and into the room where I was shocked to find a complete replica of Hammanga’s lair. In fact, at first I thought I’d actually entered the real lair.

The lack of smell alerted me to the falseness of the place, the lack of smell and lack of atmosphere. Other than that the replica was perfect. When I asked Dohan why it had been necessary to dismantle the original lair and reassemble it in the Apoteket instead of simply creating this replica, he smiled that smile again and said that, in that particular case, it was necessary. They needed to see beyond the material things in the lair. That’s why I’d come in so useful.

We didn’t stay long in there. And, judging by the size of the dome compared to the size of the room, I guess there was a lot more going on behind the scenes in that place that we’d ever be told about. Dohan said the replica of the lair had been constructed simply to make the room easier for us to understand. By tonight it will have changed to something else.

At least it was nice to see another, more humanlike, side to Dohan. Somewhere deep behind that impenetrable exterior I think he might like us.

Ana emailed me again last night. Her tone was more concillatory this time. She said she understood my reluctance to talk about personel issues but added that she was greatly worried about her sister and was investigating every avenue she could to find out what was wrong with her. She even suggested I tell Sara or Kanar about Maya’s condition and ask for their help. I sent a long reply detailing the probable consequences of telling the Cadavat what had happened. Okay, so I might have exagerrated a bit. At least it made the situation clearer to Ana. But not clear enough. Her reply came almost immediately. She said she understood. She also openly hinted that it I needed to consider my priorities if Maya’s condition worsened.

That annoyed me. And, fact is, Maya’s condition isn’t worsening. She only mentions the nausea in passing now when we talk. I guess she’s trying to protect me. And things aren’t getting out of hand back home. O’Heir says that while Ana is certainly worried, she’s behaving normally. She and Justin are planning a shopping trip to Dublin tomorrow to get some art supplies for Maya. I was relived to hear that. Sometimes, especially when I can’t sleep at night, I imagine all sorts of catastrophes going on back home, chief of which is Ana spiriting her sister away to hospital in the middle of the night and exposing our secret.

Nonsense, I know. But in the middle of the night—especially the middle of the night here—things like that are hard to get out of your head.

At least our medical training is a good distraction. We learned this morning how to use several common plants for medicinal purposes while Dohan spent the afternoon demonstrating several minor Lavun based spells. Okay, so they were the same spells Garigan demonstrated to us before. They were just as impressive second time around.

Got an unusual mail from Ana this morning. She wanted to know exactly what had happened during that time when Maya and I were together. I feel like telling here it’s really none of her business what ‘exactly’ happened that night. But I know she’s not simply being nosey. No. She’s worried about her sister. That concern jumped out at me from between the lines of every sentence she wrote. And, though her mail was curt and without any greetings, I detected no hostility. Some distance? Yes. But no hostility.

So what do I tell her? Well, there’s not much I can tell her. That night passed in a blur of emotion which is a pity really because, even if I can’t remember much of the details, I’ll always remember it as one of the most important nights of my life. We talked a lot. We hugged a lot. We lay in silence a lot. Other things happened, too. Private things. Things that will stay between us.

Before I reply to her, I think I should email O’Heir to get a better picture of Ana’s frame of mind. No point asking Justin. He’s head over heels in love with her so any feedback from him might be warped at best. I just hope her questioning doesn’t cause a rift between us.

I don’t blame her for asking, though. If I were in her shoes I’d be asking the same things.

Poor Maya. Though she’s only set foot in the Parawerthan a few times, she’s the one who’s suffered the most since I opened the gateway.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz again today.

Maya was sick again this morning. We’re all getting worried about her. And if it’s going to take a while to learn more about Drague Fever symptoms from someone here, I think we’ll have to risk sending the doctor in to her. Even if she’s against this idea, I trust she’ll know it’s the right thing to do. The doctor’s fine with it. He says it’s part of his job to investigate the most risky cases, although, when I suggested getting some kind of biohazard suit he didn’t rule out the idea. He said he’ll talk to a colleague in Dublin to see if such a suit can be arranged.

But who can I ask about Drague Fever symptoms without giving away what happened at home. As discreet as he was, Armbranch learned nothing. If I mention it to Sara or Kanar they’ll immediately become suspicious.

Maybe I should confide in Lailia.

We continued our lectures with Dohan this morning. He’s truly an expert at explaining the most inexplicable things in the most precise, efficient, and understandable manner. Yet, despite this skill, I’m not too sure if I’m comfortable being around him. Not yet anyway. He’s always watching us, sizing us up, analysing our words. Sometimes, when he tells us some new information, it’s almost like he’s asking us some reverse question on some deeper, subliminal level. Spooky. But I do trust him. I don’t think he means to behave like that. No. I suppose it’s just his nature.

He told us about Loopset Grass today. It’s a living sea grass used for temporarily setting broken fingers, toes, and limbs. Stored in glass tubes filled with seawater, it’s an essential component of a Cadavat Investigator’s medical kit. When it’s looped around the length of a broken limb, it dries within minutes and provides a good support until the patient can receive a more permanent, cement based, cast. It also contains a mild anaesthetic that is released into muscle tissue to provide pain relief.

We tried it out on each other today. Worked perfectly. Once it dried out it made my arm feel almost superhumanly strong.

What a fantastic medical aid!

Staying in bed today. Sara’s orders. And she didn’t need to tell me twice. All she had to do was mention how easy Chef could whip up another batch of that gruel.

Staying in bed feels like a waste. Okay, so I’m worried about what’s happening at home and suffering some sleep deprivation. But, behind that fatigue, I’m still fit and well after the R&R. But I guess I’ll just stay here a while longer just to keep the others happy.