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Instead
of
frightening
him
,
the
sensation
of
time
-
darkness
forced
a
hyper
-
acceleration
of
his
other
senses
.
He
found
himself
registering
every
available
aspect
of
the
thing
that
lifted
from
the
sand
there
seeking
him
.
Its
mouth
was
some
eighty
meters
in
diameter
.
.
.
crystal
teeth
with
the
curved
shape
of
crysknives
glinting
around
the
rim
.
.
.
the
bellows
breath
of
cinnamon
,
subtle
aldehydes
.
.
.
acids
.
.
.
.
The
worm
blotted
out
the
moonlight
as
it
brushed
the
rocks
above
them
.
A
shower
of
small
stones
and
sand
cascaded
into
the
narrow
hiding
place
.
Paul
crowded
his
mother
farther
back
.
Cinnamon
!
The
smell
of
it
flooded
across
him
.
What
has
the
worm
to
do
with
the
spice
,
melange
?
he
asked
himself
.
And
he
remembered
Liet
-
Kynes
betraying
a
veiled
reference
to
some
association
between
worm
and
spice
.
“
Barrrroooom
!
”
It
was
like
a
peal
of
dry
thunder
coming
from
far
off
to
their
right
.
Again
:
“
Barrrroooom
!
”
The
worm
drew
back
onto
the
sand
,
lay
there
momentarily
,
its
crystal
teeth
weaving
moonflashes
.
