“Oh, he’ll notice all right,” Gimson said grimly. “If we only return with one critter, this is the one he wants.”

Hillager was about to argue the point when Gimson added: “Wait! I think I can see one!"

Hillager moved to join his colleague. The man was still bending over, but he was staring at the base of one of the trees.

“Look,” he said, and pointed.

Hillager followed the direction of Gimson’s pointed finger. There, in a pool of water between two tree roots, was what looked like a bright red clot of blood the size of his hand. It glistened in the weak light of the sun.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“That’s what Duke said it would look like. That’s exactly what he said it would look like.”

“So what do we do?”

Instead of answering, Gimson reached out with his hand and took the thing between his finger and thumb. He picked it up. It drooped bonelessly. Hillager watched, fascinated.

“Yeah,” Gimson said, turning it over and examining it closely. “Look — there’s the mouth, or the sucker, or whatever you call it. Three teeth, set around the edge. And the other end’s got a sucker as well. That’s how it holds on — it attaches itself at both ends.”

“And sucks your blood,” Hillager said darkly.

“And sucks the blood of anything that passes by slowly enough that it can get a grip,” Gimson explained. “Those tiny elephants, that tapir-thing with the pointy snout — anything.”

The leech was changing shape as he watched, becoming thinner and longer. When Gimson had picked it up it had been nearly circular, but now it was more like a thick worm. His fingers were still clamped about a third of the way along from its head — if the bit with the mouth could actually be called a head.

“What does he do with them?” Hillager asked. “Why does he send people all this way to collect them?”