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Paperback
First published July 1, 2004
Intuitions of great brass-bound, hex-stamped alien tomes, brittle with age, infested Azul. Sensations of arcane incunabula and palimpsests and chained libers. Of ranks of daemonic codices and opuscules – the very words of which might melt the eye to keep the brain from imbibing what was writ. Impressions of labyrinthine ebon passageways and inky halls and chambers and cubicles wherein books themselves were luminous, phosphorescent. Impressions of a maze so extensive that an ignorant wanderer might well leave his bones there. Of terrible immaterial guardians of these macabre archives. Could those brooding presences be chained, tamed daemons, embodiments of formulae inscribed within certain volumes locked in arabesque cages?In the preface, Watson writes about the difficulty of producing believable fiction on the basis of a set of game rules; his answer was "to go completely over the top in style and also in content - to be lurid and brooding and hyperbolic and generally crazy, although in an elegant, ornate way where a dark beauty pervades the atmosphere." This manifests itself in the range of insane settings Watson imagines, such as cities that look like coral brains and gargantuan alien ruins sculpted from sand, and the gruesome events that befall the characters, who are forced to eat the tentacles of some kind of immaterial psychic squid, or have their eye gouged out to reach a state of enlightenment.
Which was worse? The vile actions undertaken by his body – or the dreams?
He dreamed of luscious lethal daemonettes. He dreamed of poisonous fiends which were half human and half scorpion. He dreamed of ostrich-horses with voluptuous legs and lashing blue tongues, upon which daemonettes rode.
It seemed that soon those daemonettes and fiends might try to rip their way into the world through his very own flesh – which was his own no more. They might tear a gateway open in his bowels. They might emerge through his anus and then expand to full-size.
How his mind fought against this hideous prospect