Escape From Zulaire (16 page)

Tleer bowed to her. “It is well intentioned of you to mention this, my daughter, but unnecessary. This shrine exists to serve those who do Sanenre’s will. It likewise has powerful weapons to repel those who create shadows on the peace of Sanenre’s light.”

“There are a few more people in our group,” Wilson said. “Another soldier, a local warrior, a girl—”

“And a baby? An Obati baby? Is the warrior Shenti, from the far mountains of Abuzan?” As he fired questions at them, Tleer’s wizened face became animated.

“How did you know?” Wilson shot the monk a suspicious look.

“There are foretellings.” Rubbing his hands together, Tleer beamed at them, nodding at each person in turn as if conferring a blessing. “But we never know when Sanenre will set prophesied events into motion. We’ll watch for your other companions and welcome them.”

Moaning, Tom thrashed against the bindings on the litter.
Niceties be damned.
“Please, he’s extremely ill,” Andi said. “We spent a long time climbing up here, and he’s been getting worse by the hour.”

Tleer crossed the room to a gong on a giant stand and gave a single tap to the disk. Four monks flocked into the foyer from the unseen hallway beyond, garbed in robes of a more subdued shade than Tleer’s.

“My brethren will take charge of the sick man.” Tleer motioned toward yet another corridor. “If the rest of you will follow me, we can get you lodged and fed.”
 

“Sir, I’d rather stay with the captain.” Resting one hand on the butt of his blaster, Wilson took up a stance between the approaching monks and the litter.
 

“I’m staying with him, too.” Andi frowned at Wilson, in case he planned to object. “You need my help, Sergeant, as sick as he is and as exhausted as you are. Don’t even think about arguing. Just tell me what to do.”

“As you choose.” Serene and calm, Tleer apparently didn’t care if his guests fell in with his suggested agenda. He escorted Rahuna and Rogers down one corridor, while Andi and Wilson followed the four monks carrying Tom’s litter in another direction.

The monks led them into a bright, eight-sided room. One whole wall was transparent, with a breathtaking view of the canyon and the mountain across the way. A soft, orange rug covered the stone floor. Tapestries of pastoral scenes hung on the walls, the largest
 
depicting a herd of Sanenre’s sacred urabu gamboling beside a lake.

Centered below this tapestry sat a bed constructed of dark-veined wood. The center of the headboard was a cunningly carved rendering of an arched urabu’s head. The side slats were depicted as much-exaggerated antlers, rising to a point at the foot. Linen sheets covered the mattress, with quilts and furs piled on a nearby stool. Tossed against the headboard was an inviting stack of fringed and tasseled pillows.

Taking in the room’s appointments with one quick glance, Andi was satisfied that the accommodations would be comfortable for Tom, sick as he was.
I could sleep for a week
.
I bet Wilson is thinking the same thing. Look at those lines on his face and
 
shadows under his eyes.
 

Producing a stubby knife, one of the monks slashed through the bindings keeping Tom more or less still on the litter. Freed from restraint, the captain thrashed as convulsions racked his body. Standing out of the way, Andi wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes prickled, her throat grew tight with unshed tears, as she watched him go through so much agony. Meanwhile, the monks worked together as a team, transferring the captain to the waiting bed.
 

“Let me give him a shot.” Wilson stepped to the bedside, medinject in hand.

All four monks stopped, staring at the sergeant.

Hastily, Andi translated for the monks, who didn’t appear to understand Basic.

One stepped forward while his three companions ranged themselves between Andi and the bed. “What will this do?” asked the one in charge, speaking a Zulairian subdialect.

Glaring at the monks, Wilson clenched his hand on the butt of his blaster as he addressed Andi in a tense voice. “Are they planning to interfere with me?”

I hope not.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said in a soothing voice. “The monks just want to help, to understand.”

“Tell them I’m goin’ to stop him from convulsing for a few minutes, so we can get him undressed, sponge him off. We need to reduce the fever.” Lowering his voice, Wilson looked at Andi, worry lines bracketing his mouth. “I flat-out hate the next stage of bhengola, the chills, but he has to pass through them to get over this attack, ma’am. Ask what they can do for bonebreakin’ shivers.”

Andi and the monk engaged in a rapid discussion, covering what Deverane was suffering from and how the next stage of the disease would be violent convulsions.

“We’ll bring you a potion within the hour which may be effective.” Bowing, the monk glided unhurriedly from the room.

Wilson gave his captain the medication while the remaining monks stood in a line by the window and watched. In less than a minute, the drug had taken effect, Andi was relieved to see.
 

For the first time in hours, Deverane was relatively quiscient, although he continued to roll his head from side to side, as if seeking escape from the pain. Holding the empty inject, Wilson studied the implement as if it was solid gold. Grimacing, he looked at Andi.
 
“I can’t administer this drug too often during any one attack. Has a powerful effect on the heart. Not good for the liver, either. Ma’am, would you excuse us while we make him a bit more comfortable?”

She had her argument ready.
I’m not leaving Tom’s side tonight.
“Look, the monks are speaking a Naranti sub-Clan dialect, and you weren’t hypnotrained in anything but basic Naranti, right?”

Puzzled, the sergeant shook his head.
 

“So I’ll stay, thank you. You need a translator. I’ll just sit in this chair, facing the window, and translate as necessary.” Sinking into the cushions, Andi curled up like a cat. “Well, better get on with making Tom comfortable.” She waved one hand in a small shooing motion.

Wilson shrugged and turned back to the three monks. “I could probably get by with gestures,” he said defiantly over his shoulder.

“You were ready to draw your blaster at least twice already since we got here,” Andi reminded him softly. “We can’t afford to offend these people, not if we want their help for Tom.”

 
Wilson worked with the monks, unfastening Tom’s clothing. Ands translated as needed while keeping her eyes averted, to soothe the sergeant’s concern for the proprieties. When Wilson gave the all-clear, she left the chair, to see Tom’s limp, unresisting body garbed in loose blue pajamas, topped with a plain brown monk’s robe.

The monks streamed from the room in single file, almost marching, taking the battered litter with them, as well as the crumpled uniform.
 

Making no sound, the last man closed the door behind him.

“I guess now we wait.”
Which is always the hardest thing for me to do.
Andi crossed to the bed where Tom lay. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she recoiled in horror. “His skin feels like ice.”
She grabbed two of the quilts from the chair and spread them over the captain. “How can the fever change to chills so fast?”

“Just one of the many terrifying aspects of bhengola. A lot of people never survive their first attack.” Wilson tucked the quilts in further. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth, face careworn. “He’s been fightin’ this damn thing for five years.”

“But the disease is winning, isn’t it?” Andi said. “Even as strong and stubborn as he is.
 
Five years is an eternity to battle bhengola. He can’t have much immune-system reserve left to fight it anymore.”

 
Fixedly, Wilson stared at the urabu carving on the headboard and made no reply.
 

A quick knock heralded the return of their hosts. Opening the door, a monk brought a bowl of clear, steaming liquid to the bedside.

“That smells too good to be medicine.” Andi sniffed the air appreciatively as he carried the wooden tray bearing the bowl past her.

Wilson moved to stop the monk from feeding Tom. “Ask him what’s in that mixture, ma’am, would you? And what it’s supposed to do.”
 

Andi translated as much as she could of the monk’s response, but some of the details were beyond even her knowledge of the sub-Clan dialect. Eventually, the sergeant sat on the edge of the bed and spooned the stuff into Tom’s mouth himself, while Andi cradled the bowl and the monk kept the captain’s head still on the pillows.

Heading for the door, the monk took the tray and the empty bowl. “I’ll have one of our brotherhood sit with him while the two of you go and eat some dinner, and perhaps rest.”
   

           
Exchanging wary glances, Andi and Wilson spoke at the same time.

“I don’t want to leave him—”

“I think one of us should stay—”

Andi beat Wilson to the punch. “Go have lunch, sergeant. Take a nap. You carried the litter all night, so you need rest more than me. I can have the monks find you if there’s any change. All right?”

“What about you? You hiked all night, too, ma’am.”

I’m not setting foot out of this room right now.
She glanced at Tom’s gaunt, trembling form, her heart clenched with worry.
And I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway
. “I’ll get them to bring me a tray. Then I can lounge in this terrific chair, maybe drowse, while I’m keeping an eye on him. Won’t the inject keep him quiet for a few hours?”

Nodding, Wilson stifled a yawn.

With an effort, Andi kept herself from yawning as well. “So you’ll need your strength to be rested and ready for duty when that time is up. I can’t manage him in a full-out seizure.”

“Makes sense.” The sergeant rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “You’ll have them fetch me if there’s any change?”

“Of course. Go on, we’ll be fine.” Her gaze slid back to Tom, her gut churning with anxiety.
Please, Lords of Space, let him be fine. Let him pull through this attack
.

***

“Come on, Tom, that’s it; take another sip of this tea for me. You’ll feel better.” For at least the twentieth time over the past few hours, Andi held the cup of herbal tea to the captain’s parched lips. He responded to her voice as he had before, swallowing obediently, although his eyes stayed closed.

Too tired to walk back to the chair, Andi set the cup on the floor beside her. She sat cross-legged next to the low bed, resting her head on the mattress, using her arms as a pillow.
I hope the worst of the crisis is over.

Studying Tom’s face, lined now with pain, it was hard to believe she’d only met him a few days ago. His body stayed perpetually braced, tense against the bhengola’s assault. He’d seemed uncomfortable with the robe, pulling at it restlessly, so she’d ease the garment off, leaving him clad in the pajamas. Andi massaged his shoulders for a few minutes, working the knots out of the muscles.
The man was hard muscle everywhere.
A wistful sadness stirring in her heart, she ghosted her fingernail over the sword and comet tattoo on his bicep.
Some Special Forces thing, I bet. I’ll have to ask him about it when this is over.

Sighing, she pulled the covers up over him again.
I hope I get that chance.

Remembering their moonlit conversation at the camp beside the lake, Andi stroked his cheek tenderly, leaning closer to him. “You try to be so uptight and military. Disciplined. But inside you’re one sensitive guy, Tom Deverane. Your parents would be proud of you.” She bathed his forehead and readjusted the quilts to make him more comfortable. Every time she touched him, his muscles visibly relaxed, which pleased her and seemed like a good sign.

As sunset colored the sky outside the mysterious window, someone knocked. Andi opened the door to an anxious Wilson.
 

She surveyed him from head to toe. His face seemed more rested, the big shadows under his eyes gone. “Wow, you look like a changed man,” she said approvingly. “A meal and a few hours’ sleep did you wonders.” She leaned on him for a moment, one hand on his shoulder, shaking her foot, which was all tingly and numb. “Did Lysanda and Abukawal get here?”

“Hours ago. Rahuna woke me to tranquilize her before they could get her across the bridge.”
 
Wilson took Andi’s place at the bedside, reaching to check the captain’s pulse.
 

“I’m not surprised to hear that. She’s a total baby about heights. Won’t even take an aircar anywhere,” she said. “I think Rahuna hypnotized me to get me across.”
 

“No sign of any pursuit so far, by the way.” Wilson adjusted the quilts over Tom’s shoulders.

“That’s a relief,” Andi said. “The whole time we were in that village and slogging through the jungle, the back of my neck tingled, like we were being watched. Maybe they just don’t know or care that we got away in one piece?”

“Maybe. I’m not letting my guard down until we get back to the capital. You shouldn’t either.” Shaking a finger at her, Wilson frowned. “Even this monastery isn’t safe from attack. So he’s been quiet? Is that why you’re in such a good mood, I hope?” The sergeant picked up the little tea pot and shook it, raising his eyebrows. “You got him to drink some of this?”