A small part of Jack's mind wondered whether running water up here in an empty apartment would be noticed by the neighbors. The rest of his mind didn't even care. He got the shirt good and wet and brought it back.
"If this is all the blood he's lost, I don't think we're in too bad a shape," Langston said, taking the shirt and carefully daubing at the bloodstained scales. "At least, if he's got the same amount of blood as other animals his size."
"He's not an animal," Jack growled. "I can do that."
"Have you had any medical training?" Langston countered, holding the wet shirt out of Jack's reach. "No? Well, I have. Star-Force's basic first-aid course, anyway. You just watch for now. There'll be plenty of nursing later to go around."
Jack grimaced. But the other did seem to know what he was doing. Under his careful ministrations the dried blood was starting to come off. "The real question is how much internal damage he took," Langston went on. "You happen to know how his organs are arranged?"
Jack shook his head. "Not a clue."
Langston grunted. "I was afraid of that. Still, his breathing seems steady. We'll just have to tie up his wound as best we can and keep our fingers crossed."
"You can use my shirt," Jack offered, pulling it off.
"Thanks." Langston set the shirt aside and got back to his cleaning. "So what exactly is he? Is he the last of his kind?"
Jack snorted. "Hardly. Or rather, not yet."
He told Langston the whole story. All of it, including the information on his parents that he'd uncovered since coming to Semaline. Somehow, talking helped keep his mind off Draycos.
Langston listened in silence as he worked. By the time Jack was finished, so was the first aid. "It's up to him now," Langston said, wiping his hands on his jumpsuit. "You know the saying: the patient does the healing, and the doctor takes the credit. So you think Cornelius Braxton himself was behind your parents' murder?"
"I don't know what to think," Jack said with a sigh. Suddenly he was feeling utterly drained. "Draycos thinks it's more likely it was Neverlin. But I just don't know."
"Well, it's not something we have to figure out tonight," Langston assured him. "Get some sleep. I'll take the first watch." His lip quirked upward. "Sorry about the accommodations."
"They're fine," Jack assured him, glancing around the empty apartment. All the furniture had apparently been moved to Langston's cliffside prison when Langston himself was. "I'll just fluff up some of the floor and settle in."
"That's the spirit," Langston said. "I'll wake you in four hours."
"Make it three," Jack said. "Draycos has already been off me for one, and I don't want to push his limits."
"I don't know," Langston said doubtfully. "He'll probably drop that bandage when he goes back on your skin."
"I know," Jack said. "But it won't do any good to keep it on and let him die."
"Point," Langston admitted. "Three hours it is." Jack's last memory as he lay down on the floor beside Draycos was of Langston sitting cross-legged near the door, one of the bows in his hand, gazing thoughtfully out into the night.
CHAPTER 28
It took Alison all the rest of the night and most of the next morning to work her way through the Brummgan areas of the Chookoock estate. During that time Taneem smelled or heard three guard patrols, each time warning Alison with a touch of her claws.
It was nearing noon when they finally passed over the thorn hedge into the slave areas of the estate. Beyond the hedge, the neatly manicured lawns and trees abruptly turned scraggly and untended. The Brummgas, Alison reflected grimly, had no interest in maintaining this part of their grounds. The slaves, for their part, had no spare time for the job.
"How far are we going?" Taneem asked.
"No farther than we have to," Alison said, wincing as she pushed them another six inches north. Her shirt had torn through in several places, and even through the material that remained her back had been rubbed raw. "We at least need to make it to the forest. If we can find one of the isolation huts Jack talked about, maybe we can hide there for a while."
"And enlist the aid of the slaves?" Taneem suggested.
"Not if we can help it," Alison said. "The Brummgas have spies mixed in with them, remember?"
"Oh. Yes." The K'da moved restlessly on Alison's skin. "I don't understand why any slaves would be willing to betray their friends that way."
"It's a power thing, I suppose," Alison said. "To have even a little power over the other slaves is probably very appealing to some of them."
"Draycos says that traitors deserve death."
Alison pursed her lips. "I imagine that's part of the K'da warrior code," she agreed. "Let's keep it quiet for a while, okay?"
They made their slow way for another hour before Alison finally called it quits. "This should be far enough," she said, studying as much of the landscape as she could see from her vantage point. It wasn't much. "Now the big question: how do I get down?"
In answer, Taneem bounded from her shoulder and dropped to the ground. She landed on all fours in a crouch and swiveled her long neck back and forth as she surveyed the area. Then, looking up, she moved directly beneath Alison and rose up on her hind legs, her forelegs stretched upward. "Drop down," she called softly. "I'll catch you."
It sounded pretty risky. Unfortunately, Alison didn't have any better ideas. Getting a grip on the white ceramic, she rolled herself over the edge of the curl. She hung there for a couple of seconds to stabilize herself, then let go.
Taneem's forelegs caught her around her torso, and she hit the ground no harder than if she'd jumped off a chair. "Thanks," she said, wincing as the K'da's paws brushed across her sore back. "Let's get moving."
She got two paces before she was suddenly pulled up short by Taneem's paw on her shoulder. "Alison!" the K'da gasped. "Your back."
"Lovely, isn't it?" Alison agreed, twisting her neck to try to see for herself. "Feels just like it looks, too."
"My fault," Taneem said, ducking her head guiltily. "I should have helped take some of the pressure and pain. But I never even thought to do that."
"It's okay," Alison assured her. "It's not really that bad. Anyway, before this is over we may need you in top fighting shape. Better get aboard—we don't want some roaming Brummga to spot you."
They were not, as it turned out, as close to the forest as Alison had thought. Fortunately, there were plenty of scattered trees and bushes along the way to use as cover as they worked their way farther north.
It took them nearly half an hour to reach the forest. Along the way Taneem's nose and tongue picked up two groups of Brummgas, but both were too far away to be any danger to the fugitives.
Finally, they were there. Heading into the permanent twilight beneath the branches, Alison finally felt herself relaxing a little.
Her relief was short-lived. They'd been traveling barely five minutes when she heard the sound of footsteps crunching through the dead leaves.
Instantly, she dropped into a crouch beside a tall bush. "Taneem?" she whispered, her eyes darting around as she tried to tell which direction the steps were coming from.,
"They're all around us," Taneem whispered back, her tongue flicking out rapid-fire now. "But there are no Brummgas among them."
Slaves, then. Apparently, the universe wasn't going to let Alison avoid them as she'd hoped.
And if she couldn't avoid them, there was nothing to be gained by letting them find her skulking under bushes like a criminal. It was even possible she could persuade them she was just another slave who'd strayed out of her usual territory.