Hauled to the surface with this equipment was an endlessly fascinating parade of oddity, of which angler fish and giant isopods were the least; creatures with vast, gazing eyes and long, needle-like teeth; pale-skinned fish with immense, unfolding jaws and horrific grimaces; crabs with legspans as great as a Maragana is tall. And, on the largest of these animals, tooth or beak wounds that could only have been inflicted by creatures of much greater size.

The marine platypus keeps mainly to the warmer waters surrounding northern Proesus, as it lacks an insulating layer--like the blubber of the marspeel or the dense waterproofed feathers of the scalade--significant enough to engage in its lifestyle in the colder climes. Relative to its size, its laying burrows are much smaller and simpler than those of, say, the upriver platypus, Dulaiwarrung yemisibi; those elaborate tunnels are frequently found at tens of heights in length, equipped with blind ends to confuse intruders, plugs against flooding, and a lining of dead leaves for insulation.

As with other chireks, one might well be charmed by the curiosity and playfulness of the occisor--until one has seen the cruelty and efficiency with which they dismantle their prey, often with that very same merriment.

In order to facilitate my observations, Captain Naaki has provided me with a remarkable diving suit, one designed for Paluchard use. It is equipped with a canister of magically-compressed air and a complicated apparatus for delivering it to the mouth as needed. Add to that a pair of strange airtight glasses--Paluchard can see adequately in water, but the salt of the ocean stings the eyes--and I was ready to accompany the crew on their fishing dives, so long as I stayed out of their way.

The various branches of the bayou re-combined into the river's single fantastic trunk, and then divided once more as it streamed into the Great Delta. Seabirds begin to appear overhead; the rainforest’s eucalypts, palms and raintrees give way gradually to mangrove, and mangrove then to kelp forest and open ocean. It is into this vast body of water, the West Spine Ocean, that the Veduka River finally pours, but not before filtering through the islands of the Great Delta. Such is the force of this outpouring that, for much of the year, the waters remain unsalted for some distance, and can be spotted by vessels approaching from the north or east long before land is visible. Such ships often take the muddied water as their first sign of impending land, and use it to guide their way to Delta Harbour. Assisting in this task are the great light-towers of Delta City, one of which I sit in the shadow of while writing these words.

My sole prior visit to Bayou was on that first journey to Forum. It was, at that time, the most people I had ever seen in a single place. The city has changed since then, its engorged suburbs now sprawling from the islands onto the River’s southern banks. Although certainly larger, in reality, than it was when I first passed through, it seems somehow far smaller than in my memory. The world is vast, and the more I see of it the lesser seems all it contains – especially the works of sapient hands. Beside a great mountain or a vast desert, how can a mere city compare?

Home to a huge variety of fish and other wildlife, starting at the tiny and spanning to the vast, the River is the lifeblood of the rainforest kingdoms. It traces a sinuous, winding route from its glacial sources in the Crown Mountains all the way to distant Delta, where it pours into the Spine Ocean – at every step, accumulating a greater flow from its many tributaries. Even at its narrowest points, and during the dry season, the river is wide enough to swallow a large erefal tree laid length-way across its stream.

As little as I care for them, it must be admitted that it is far from fair to think of cities as sterile things – although they invariably displace a good deal of native wildlife, in its stead they play host to a curious range of urban creatures. The teri, the dulgi and the gwaemul are but a few of the animals ubiquitous to cities across Proesus, apparently thriving in the presence of sapients. It would be remiss of me not to make some account of them, as mundane a description as it may seem to any city-dwellers - for whom the animals are a daily fact.

We had paused in an eddy by the bank for lunch when she emerged from the murk, not a height from our boat. Had I not chanced to be looking in that direction I might have missed her entirely. She lurked just below the surface, the eyes pointed toward me from the centre of her wide, spade-shaped head. She was utterly still - until she raised her head, ever so slightly, for her slitted nostrils – the nostrils only – to breach the surface. They opened slowly, took our scent, and then closed; she receded from sight once more. She had not made a single sound or movement that, if I hadn't already been aware of her, would have betrayed her presence. That deadly stillness, if one has witnessed the speed and ferocious power with which the female can erupt from the water, is as menacing as any roar. We elected to take our lunch on the move.