Maorgan turned when he heard her moving. “He’s really bad. Have you talked to your people?”
“Com’s dead. Sokli fell on it when he was killed. You look better.”
“I feel better. I see the caцpas came back.”
“Last night. I suppose because they’re tame creatures and don’t like the wild. Besides they wanted corncake and that doesn’t grow on trees.” She pushed herself up, grimaced at the throb in her head. “I hate interrupted sleep, I always feel like I’m three thoughts behind and a hundred pounds heavier. Would you bring Danor outside? And a blanket to put between him and the ground. I’m going to try something.”
She opened her medkit, set a scalpel in the sterilizer, scowled at the antiseptic spray, then at the red and yellow matter pressing against the scab on Danor’s shoulder. It was the bullet that was causing the trouble and probably a fragment of shirt it took in with it. She rested her fingers as lightly as she could on the hot dry skin and let her mindtouch drop through the flesh. Yes. There. Dark heavy mass. Have to get that out. Can I shift it… unh… slippery… yes, I can, yes.
She looked up, met Maorgan’s worried gaze. “I have to do something,” she said. “I think I can get the bullet out and the wound cleaned, but I can’t be sure. See if you can fix up a litter we can put him on and carry him to someone who knows what they’re doing.”
He nodded, got to his feet. “And I’ll see about getting the packs ready.”
She checked Danor. His fever was up another notch and he was moving his head and muttering things she couldn’t catch, his hands were scrabbling weakly at the blanket. She wanted to put him out for the cleaning of the wound, but she didn’t dare, she was worried enough about reaction to the spray. She set the antisep bulb on the folded-out worktray of the kit, then took the scalpel and opened the wound, jerking back as blood and pus spurted out.
She set the scalpel back in the sterilizer, sprayed a pad with antisep, and began wiping and pressing, wiping and pressing, getting as much of the yellow matter out as she could, trying to ignore the groans and screams from the man she was working on. When there was just blood and clear liquid coming out, she knelt with her hands resting lightly on his chest, the red raw hole between them.
She could move small objects, she’d done it before. She’d even drawn a bullet before, it just took concentration and time.
Bullet. Yes. Shred of something foreign in there, too.
Grasp both. Yes. Gotcha! Ease them up. Easy… easy. damn!
Danor was coming further awake, starting to writhe around on the blanket. One arm came around, slammed into her, nearly knocked her out of her trance and off her knees. Then he was quiet again, she didn’t know why, she could feel life beating in him still, didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered now was getting that bullet and that shred of cloth out of the wound. She’d lost hold for a moment, but retrieved it now. Easy… easy… come along…, up… where’s the path… ah! around there, when he moved, he shifted things… just to make this harder… up another inch… “Ah!”
The battered cone of lead popped out of Danor with a comical little spt!, rolling down his ribs into the grass. The thread of cloth swam beside the wound in a pool of blood.
She wiped the back of a bloody hand across her eyes and saw Maorgan when she opened them. He’d used his body to pin the old man down, keep him from moving.
“Finished?” When she nodded, he rose. “Oddest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “You’re a talented lady, Shadowsong.”
With a little bark of laughter, she shook her head. “No more than you, Harpmaster. Now if you’ll go back to your packing, I’ll finish this up. By the way, thanks.”
He grinned and walked away.
She wiped the shred of cloth away, cleaned the wound again, sprayed antisep on a new pad, and taped it in place. “Now if you’ll just stay alive till we get you to Minach.”
4
Marrin Ola stopped in the doorway to the workroom when he saw Aslan sipping tea and listening to
Duncan Shears. “Get the cone up, I’ve got something to show you.”
A moment later he was back. He stepped through the haze of the privacy cone, took a cutter from inside his shirt and put it on the table. “Not a rumor. Not any more.”
Aslan looked at the mucky weapon. “Looks like it took a bath in mud.” She sniffed. “Very stale mud where something died a while ago.”
“It did.” He wiped his hand on his shirt, pulled up a chair, and gave them a sketch of what happened at the bridge. “… and I managed to pry about half what you want out of Oschos, the stuff is locked in the jit, I’ll bring it in later. It took a while, though, so I was irritated and in a hurry and I’d almost forgotten about the wobble at the bridge,, so I hadn’t turned on the telltale. So when Glois and his pal rode out at me, I nearly had a heart attack. The young idiots. I’d told them to keep away, but they saddled up and rode after, I think they thought they were going to protect me, I don’t know WHAT they were thinking. Anyway, Glois was excited about something but he wouldn’t say what. He got me on his caцpa and climbed up behind Ut and they took me to this mucky islet with a huge oilnut tree growing at one end. The cutter was there, one end of it sunk in the mud, the other end caught on a root. And the chorek who had it, he was facedown in the water, about as dead as you get. Drowned. I’d hit him with the stunner and down he went. There were pieces out of him, a crogall or something like that had started eating him. Kids thought all that was terribly interesting. Reminds me of me when I was a kid, but my stomach’s gotten weaker since those days.” He glanced at the cutter lying dark and lethal on the table, leaned back, and crossed his legs.
Aslan swore.
Duncan Shears rubbed at his chin. “You can interview from the Enclave.”
“We’ve been over that and over it, Duncan. It won’t work.” Fingers tapping at the worktable, she stared at the wall, her eyes narrowed, the corners of her wide mouth tucked in. “Shadith should be getting to Chuta Meredel soon. End of the week she said. When she calls in tonight, I want her to try getting permission for the three of us to fly in. From what I’ve heard, I doubt any Chav spy will be getting close to that place. Center of learning, repository of history, center of government such as it is. I’ve been salivating at the thought of getting there, but I didn’t see how… even Shadith had to ride there… no flikits allowed… and the Metau and Teseach went rabid when I barely mentioned the place… without an invitation I’d given up hope… funny, this business might even be what makes it possible.” She blinked. “Well, enough of that. Marrin, what about the com and the satellites, are they anywhere near getting them back on line?”
He uncrossed his legs and straightened his back. “Very sneaky and thorough virus. Hm. It’s hard to believe a Chav invented that virus. They’re not usually so… um… indirect. That is to say, they have few graces not directly related to the extraction of minerals. I suspect the presence of a Freetech and I think I know the man. Family had me locate him and send him out to Picabral not so long ago; I talked to him first. Most amoral entity I’ve ever come across and one of the cleverest at what he does. If I’m right, Koraka has about as much chance of resolving that virus with the personnel and equipment he has here as we have of walking home. It ate through the defenses as if they didn’t exist. All they needed was someone to get it into the system and they bought that. Software’s unusable, the techs are trying to pull something together to get the com going, but everything they try, the virus eats. We are cut off completely for the moment. And there won’t be a ship from Yarakan for another six weeks. They know who it was that the Chave bought, by the way. You remember that phora, Galeyn I think was his name? The one who looked like he had a burr up his nose? Well, he disappeared along with his private flikit. From what I could get out of Oschos, the Goлs is raving, he suspects all the rest of them and is talking of putting anyone who sneezes funny under probe.” He shrugged.