And over all its height the striated octagons clustered.
I felt myself lifted, floated upward.

Drake's hand shot out, clung to me as together we drifted up the living wall.

Opposite the latticed heart of the square-petaled rose our flight was checked.

There for an instant we hung.

Then the octagonal symbols stirred, unfolded like buds-- They were the nests of the Keeper's tentacles, and out from them the whiplike tendrils uncoiled, shot out and writhed toward us.
My skin flinched from their touch; my body, held in the unseen grip, was motionless.