Free The Wraeththu Chronicles by Storm Constantine, Paul Cashman Page A

above the elbow with a knotted cord, always looking at me, inspecting me carefully. I had seen that expression before, a life-time before, on my father's face as he chose a mule for himself. The dealer had been untrustworthy and he had not been sure if the mule was sound
     
    I doubted that Thiede often made mistakes, though. His assessment of me was realized in one short glance.
     
    "Don't be afraid," he said indifferently. "Seel, prepare him. Hurry up."
     
    The veins on my arms stood out like cords. They took away my robe and Thiede looked me up and down with the same indifference, and then he smiled at Seel.
     
    "Yes. Very good."
     
    Seel moved half of his mouth in response. He did not look comfortable.
     
    Thiede's glance whipped back to my face, the movement of a snake. "You know what we're going to do?"
     
    I blinked in reply.
     
    "Are you here of your own free will?"
     
    I think an insignificant "yes" escaped the constriction of my throat.
     
    Thiede nodded, stroking his arm. "Give him the dope," he said, which I found incongruous. He turned away.
     
    Something sharp slid into my arm, an unexpected medical shard in this .mane setting, and the cold poured into me. I had not expected that and was grateful. I thought the last thing I heard was "Open his veins and drink from his heart," but common-sense tells me it was something else. There was no pain.
     
    By late afternoon of the third day, my fever had abated. I was still weak, my eyes hurt most at first, but I was alive. Mur and Garis, in attendance once again, sat me in a chair by the window while they stripped and changed my bedding. I mulled over what I could remember of the last three days.
     
    It had been early evening of my Harhune day when I regained consciousness, not knowing who, where or what I was. I had stared at the ceiling, breathing carefully, aware of pinpricks of pain, like flashes of light, darting round inside me. Red light streamed into the room and a dark shadow hovered at my side.
     
    "Pell, can you hear me?" Flick's voice.
     
    It was all over. I was back at Seel's house in my own room.
     
    "Pell?"
     
    I could not move, my throat felt sewn up and I could not rip the threads. Mick pressed a beaker against my lips. It tasted like sugared water, warm, and my shriveled mouth turned to slime.
     
    "How long?" I croaked.
     
    Flick dabbed at my face with a wet cloth smelling of lemons. "About six hours or so. Do you feel any pain?"
     
    "1 don't know." My body was still numbed by drugs. I might have imagined the pricklings. "I can't feel anything."
     
    Flick sat down on the bed and examined my face carefully, pulling down my eyelids. I did not like the expression on his face. It was worse than I felt.
     
    "I've seen quite a few through althaia," he told me. "Don't worry."
     
    I had not, till then. "Althaia . . .?
     
    Flick sponged my face again. "The changing. It will take about three days. The thing is, Pell, when the drugs wear off, you're going to feel quite ill.”
     
    "And I may die."
     
    Flick started to clean between my fingers, concentrating hard and not looking at me. "A small risk, but you're a fighter. I told you, don't worry."
     
    My eyes felt hot. I closed them and tried to swallow. Flick offered me a drink. "Where's Cal?" A sudden, irrational terror shot through me that he had left Saltrock without me. I tried to sit up and my limbs shrieked with pain and displeasure.
     
    Flick pressed me back into the pillows. "Stop it! Don't move!"
     
    I struggled, oblivious of the discomfort. "He's gone!" I half moaned, half screamed, threshing against Flick's restraining arms.
     
    "No! No. It's alright. He's here. In the house. Downstairs. He's here. But you can't see him yet."
     
    Still fringed by hysteria I stopped moving, slumped beneath Flick's hands, which were hot and trembling. It was almost as painful to be still, but the struggle had tired me out. I had to close my eyes, and when I did, the darkness was shot with