Resignedly he also indicated his invisible ear.

“I think you understand what I'm saying. Maybe that's something for you to find out later, then; you're right. Pointless telling you everything I know. There is a higher... vagina, it's just beneath her breasts. There is an eye on its highest part, and it has properties other than the conventional female sexual organ. The highest part. It has an anatomical appellation. And I do not want to say any more because this is not a matter that it is - that is, for me, even to/but really easy, to talk about.”

“- Why are you? Then. Talking about it.”

“A human man, a human woman, a Cyclops - female or male – how we mix together. There are doctrinal combinations that produce people... of exceptional importance.” He stopped, looked Art over, “You are anatomically interesting. So am I. I have an eye in my forehead. There's also Slua-Sryh, The Queen of Waat; of the ways we've outlined. This is a list.”

Pry-Boak closed his eye for a moment, continued talking, “Let me just mention the other threads and also the lie I've to say to you about why this person is in need of someone like you. - What I need and want and my interests are likely also of a certain importance... none of this would matter of course if the Queen's unconventional organ-organ wasn't involved. If this was a child of the conventional kind. Or if the King hadn't survived. This is a yearly thing, the election, they call it an election, choosing the new king. The ceremonies are conducted and then they are presented with the great – the populace obviously does not know this; they assume she's killing them – they don't care, Waat has never been more prosperous. She's plotting, apparently, something slightly more epochal and vast than any of this. If the husband survives the coupling.

“There are mysteries; a series of extremely evocative mysteries, of creation; of the sidereal realms of time and eternity, of an infinity in – a vague synthesis of mystical descriptions I assure you have meaning – that open upon a man, when they enter upon that act in that way. You understand. The eye opens and they see. And then of course they die because who can look into that pupil; that final act of – I don't think it's entrancement; I think you genuinely see the final truth of... everything. Then they die and she's in mourning again for a year until the next one. This last poor fuck, let's say, survived. They are nursing him back to health, could be in a dungeon, I don't know, which means he has some kind of world summoning talent that he is more than likely unaware of. Kind of interesting, but the part that concerns us is that... if there is a survival there is a child and – her father was a human male, as far as we can tell, and her mother was a Cyclops -”

“Oh, yeah?” Art had done some weird stuff too.

“Our ladies resemble human women, actually, more so. More than this we do not discuss. They have two eyes in their face in the regular fashion, according to the prevailing aesthetic.”

“Didn't you say you get ladies with the more... anatomical... the differentiation thing you described in their bodies, the additional... -” he was being delicate for Pry, he could really care, he was interested in women's bodies actually - not even in a purely puerile sort of way. He thought it was poetic, but maybe he was just a pervert. He had supernatural organs he could blame for this.

“The fact of the existence of combinations like the Queen of Waaat... let me say that there is a combination of these combinations that shall, in our eschaton, create the greatest being...” his voice changed in some ineffable sense, “he shall be a king - who shall ever live. But this is not the matter.” He caught and munched an egg, “The fact of this particular combination, however... the being she is hatching will not resemble anything human.” between munching. “Anything like me. Anything like you. It will only birth war, plague, destruction, chaos, death, and the end, the final and abrupt end of abstract concepts like goodness, replaced with the void that consumes. - You won't like it.”

“So what can I do... about it? You don't want me to...?” Organs. But not just his.