You choose who is worthy.

Make your Queen proud.

This was the text on the poster. Art had his letters, not just numbers, but also numbers. And letters. This was a way of saying he knew how to read. - He'd liked to read some books, one day, when all this... it would never be over. Because of his anatomy.

“She's got two globes to see out. She's a person; what's the thing here?”

“She's a Cyclops person.”

“What's the difference?”

The giant Cyclops one-eyed supernatural entity man before him caught an – Art had tossed another – egg soft and munched it; his eye did that thing again like it was looking inward and half hoping it wouldn't pop the same way the yolk did. It was a very bizarre expression that delighted Art for reasons and in ways that were unfathomable, multifaceted, mysterious; not solely on this plane, if there were planes, as some philosophers attested, but other ones. Or it was because he was still drunk.

It was a sweet delight. A delight few men ever have; that is; that of observing so closely a Cyclops munch, in his mouth, a whole egg. He'd seen it twice. - Add to this his obvious embarrassment and... this was a tight pleasure for a man like Art.

“A combination of sexes -”

“- said that. More; more; more; entertainment, everything, give me ideas. Distract me. Change me.” This weirdness, out his organs, he felt, provoked a look. There was an explanation for all this.

“There are anatomical differences - there's anatomies. Organs. That are different; that are in fact... extra...” he trailed off... “that are in fact double.” he looked embarrassed.

“Do you want to whisper it?” Art shouted across the room at him.

“She has two vaginas.”

Art thought about that and then unfolded the notice, observing minutely, once more, Slua-Sryh, The Queen of Waat. Now this was. Actually - she had the kind of beauty that didn't inspire in a man unwholesome thoughts. She had the kind of beauty that only inspired fear. Connected to this information; that he had now, about Slua-Sryh, The Queen of Waat; this extra information - that concerning her possessing two vaginas - Art didn't know what he could think. What he did think. But if no part of him that he was aware of was having explicit thoughts about this matter – this meant something.

“How does that work?”

“Anatomically?”

“Anatomically, I'm talking about body parts. You said two. I can see you're uncomfortable reporting this information to me despite the fact we are so weirdly comfortable with each other, having never met; you're being also, as we've said many times, a massive supernatural entity, small for your kind with one eye. I don't mean to harp on physical characteristics; but you. You're a striking image. I don't know who you are; I don't know why you are. I don't know why you're here/what you're here to tell me; I only know. Well, we're in it, aren't we – you mention anatomy. We're in the thing - this thing, we're both - looks like - her as well? - Anatomically incapable of living without this, in terms of supernatural organs. I'm talking about quests. ” Art cracked eggs in a tankard. Pointed at the bull bollock on his neck. Middle finger flicked it for almost rhetorical reasons, oratorical reasons, regretted it immediately - because it was a sore thing to do to the organ under his throat that – he didn't know what it did, not yet, he had that to find out too. Really. But it was connected to the anatomical fact of his having to live like this, in this, ruined – so he did know – state - between quests. He was for quests. Don't lie to yourself, or this guy, he thought, that's not the case.

Resignedly he also indicated his invisible ear.