Hellspark (33 page)

I’m giving her a local anesthetic, maggy-maggy

”—she suited action to the words—“then we’ll set the rib.”

Once again she brought her fingertips to rest on the swelling. The reddening seemed to lessen.

“You have more than average control, maggy-maggy

. Is it fine enough to keep Tocohl’s 2nd skin taut in this area only?”

“Tell me what to do,” Maggy said, “and I’ll do it.”

“Good, she’ll be more comfortable if I don’t tape it.”

Layli-layli calulan smoothed the 2nd skin gently back over the injury where Maggy sealed it. “Be ready, I’m about to set the rib.”

“Ready,” Maggy said, set to record from both the arachne’s lens and from the sensors in Tocohl’s

2nd skin. The job was done in a single swift push… then Maggy was drawing the 2nd skin tight in accord with layli-layli

’s instructions.

“Fine, that’s fine. You’re to keep it that way until I tell you otherwise.”

“Tocohl,” Maggy began.

“Tocohl has no say in a medical matter. If she gives you any trouble, refer her to me. Or tell her it’s that or taping.”

Layli-layli calulan directed a brief smile at the arachne. “And I’ll give you one additional warning.

She’ll be in some pain when the anesthetic I gave her wears off. Do not be tempted to loosen the 2nd skin—”

Maggy had by this time been through her medical files. “I know,” she said, risking the impoliteness of an interruption both to save layli-layli calulan the time and to assure her that she would take good care of Tocohl. “It might make the pain worse—and it could lead to internal damage. I’ll tell her to do a

Methven ritual for the pain instead.”

“Suggest a Methven healing ritual as well. Between the two of us, we’ll have her up and around in no time.” She walked to the diagnostic machine, where her slides awaited, leaving the arachne one last instruction: “Tell me when she wakes.”

Maggy sent the arachne bounding after her. At layli-layli

’s glance of surprise, she explained, “I can tell through the 2nd skin when she wakes—and she’ll want to see your results too. I’m recording for her.”

“I see.”

Layli-layli calulan set about her work. When she had examined the slides—and given the arachne a chance to do so as well—she moved again to Alfvaen’s side, placing the arachne at the head of the cot.

Again her fingers flickered lightly over the Siveyn’s skin while her eyes scrutinized various monitors.

Alfvaen moaned.

With a suddenness that made Maggy jump the arachne back, Alfvaen flailed against the straps that held her. Her eyes flashed open, fixed on the empty space between layli-layli and Kejesli.

She began to speak, slowly at first, then building to the fever-pitch rapidity of terror.

“Alfvaen,” Maggy said in Siveyn, trying to cut through the fear, “Alfvaen, there’s nothing there!

You’re safe!”

Alfvaen did not hear her and went on as before. Maggy sent the arachne a cautious step forward to try again.

Layli-layli calulan laid her hand across Alfvaen’s eyes: the Siveyn’s violent struggles subsided to
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steady tension against the straps, her voice sank to a still-fearful whisper. “Can you translate for me, maggy-maggy

?”

“Roughly, she says, ‘They’re coming! They’re coming to get me! Let me go! The Ilistis are coming!’”

That needed clarification. Maggy added, “The only reference I can find to Ilistis describes them as very ugly, very violent mythical creatures. No other match. She keeps saying it over and over again. I’m sorry, layli-layli

, that’s all I can tell you. I wish I knew more. That can’t be right.”

“I think your reference is probably correct. It fits with her medical condition and with what Buntec

told me of Alfvaen’s hallucinations.”

Layli-layli calulan brought her hands to either side of Alfvaen’s temples and murmured softly. A moment later, Alfvaen relaxed back onto the cot, fell silent; a moment after that, she was asleep—to all appearances, peacefully.

“I don’t understand,” Maggy said, taking care to keep the vocoder low.

Layli-layli calulan answered in quiet calm. “You won’t find it under Cana’s disease, but elsewhere… Look at the monitors. Those growths are not obstructing her circulation; what’s more, the blood monitor shows no indication of alcohol in Alfvaen’s system.”

That was so, Maggy had to admit, but… “I still don’t understand.”

“You’ll find the information under delirium tremens

. To be healthy, a human being needs to dream.

Alcohol disrupts the ability to do so. Now that the alcohol is gone from her system, Alfvaen’s mind and body seek instinctively to… catch up on dreaming. Awake or asleep, she dreams—sometimes of duels, sometimes of Ilistis.”

She strode to a cabinet, brought out a small blue container, strode back to Kejesli. Shaking a pill into his hand, she commanded, “Take that.”

Kejesli obeyed listlessly, bringing the pill to his mouth, swallowing a number of times. At last, he looked up at layli-layli calulan

. “Can’t you do something to get those things off her?”

Having by this time reviewed all available information on the effect of alcohol on the human body, Maggy was surprised to hear in Kejesli’s voice the same horror it had held when he had mistaken the growths for garbage plants. Didn’t he understand…?

Layli-layli calulan explained it for him, simply and firmly: “Those things

, Captain Kejesli, are healing her.”

“Healing her?” swift-Kalat said, when layli-layli calulan repeated her statement for him half an hour later. He bent beside Alfvaen and stroked her temple gently. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be with an unknown life-form. Check the slides yourself—you’ll see the structure is similar to, but does not match, the garbage plants.” Turning to draw him with her to the display screen, layli-layli calulan was forced to an abrupt halt to avoid a collision with Kejesli.

He attempted to move out of her way but his grip on the edge of Alfvaen’s cot prevented him from backing the necessary distance. Startled, he glanced down at his hands as if he had not seen them before—or as if he had no control over what they were doing, Maggy thought.

With obvious effort he removed, first one to splay it at his throat, then the other. This time he stepped out of her way.

“No offense given, Captain,”

layli-layli calulan said patiently, “but I would prefer that you wait outside until I have finished checking Buntec and Om im for injury. Your debriefing can wait that long…”

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Kejesli splayed his hand a second time at his throat. Without a further word, he walked unsteadily—as if the infirmary floor heaved beneath him, disturbing his balance—to the door and vanished through it.

While swift-Kalat pulled a chair to the display screen to do as layli-layli suggested, the shaman retrieved her sounding scanner. Om im, standing over Tocohl, glanced up at her approach.

“That’s not really necessary, layli-layli

,” he began.

“Humor me,” said the shaman. “It gives us the opportunity to speak of things among ourselves that we might not speak of to Kejesli.”

More secrets, Maggy decided, and realized abruptly that she had not given Tocohl the message she held from layli-layli

. Finding Tocohl alive though injured had drawn from her an unusual response: without any deliberation, her priorities had shifted. She shifted them back; when Tocohl awoke, she was to receive layli-layli calulan

’s message before Maggy said anything else.

Om im waved aside layli-layli

’s invitation to lie down, choosing instead to draw a chair to Tocohl’s side, blade right. With a look Maggy interpreted as resignation, layli-layli scanned him where he sat, taking care to approach him from the politic side.

Buntec, who had been silently observing Alfvaen, now turned and strode across to them. For a long moment, she gave Tocohl the same scrutiny. Then she said, “It’s too bad we haven’t the equipment to salvage that daisy-clipper”—she punched her palm—“I’d give an arm to see that engine.”

“I’d give Megeve’s arm to see that engine,” Om im said.

“You don’t know it was Megeve,” she countered. “Anybody had the chance to plant those jammers.

And we don’t know the clipper was sabotaged.”

Om im eyed Buntec for a long moment, then, tilting the chair back, he drew his blade and began to hone it.

Layli-layli calulan stepped back, gave him a look that Maggy could neither see nor interpret from the position of the arachne. “Sorry,” he said, sheathing the blade and bringing the chair upright with a thump, “I didn’t mean to disrupt your examination.”

Layli-layli calulan said nothing, only stepped forward again to draw her fingers lightly down his body. Maggy angled the arachne for a better look and discovered that she did not actually touch him except once. “Just a bruise,” Om im said, having noticed the arachne’s interest.

“Buntec, show Maggy those gadgets. You were right, Maggy, about the Hayashi jammers.

Buntec’s got them in her pocket.”

Never having actually seen an Hayashi jammer, Maggy sent the arachne skirting Tocohl’s head in order to record this for future reference. Buntec reached into her overpocket.

(Maggy?

Maggy

?) Though the words were soft and urgent, Tocohl’s voice rang through their private channel.

(Are you all right, Maggy?)

Instantly, Maggy split her attention. Halting the arachne where it could show her both the palmful of tiny electronic parts Buntec held out for inspection and Tocohl, she said, in what she judged from layli-layli

’s usage to be a reassuring tone, (I’m fine. You have a broken rib though.

Layli-layli calulan told me to suggest you perform a Methven healing ritual.) Tocohl’s eyes did not open. (Healing ritual it is.—I’m glad you’re safe, Maggy. It got awfully
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lonely without you.) Her voice fell silent but Maggy could tell from the sensors in her 2nd skin that she had begun the ritual.

Through the arachne, Maggy said softly, “Tocohl is awake now and has begun the Methven ritual you required.”

Just as softly, layli-layli calulan told the others, “Quiet, please.” She moved to Tocohl’s side;

placing her fingertips on Tocohl’s injured ribs, she too fell silent, as if in ritual of her own.

There went the priorities again, Maggy realized. She did not understand why that was happening.

Forgetting priorities—forgetting to deliver messages one had been told were important—that was something that happened often in fiction, but it had never before happened to her. She ran a diagnostic.

A moment later, Tocohl opened her eyes and said wanly, “Hi, how’s Alfvaen?”

Layli-layli calulan repeated her diagnosis for the third time. While she spoke, she took Buntec firmly by the shoulders, sat her on the edge of Tocohl’s cot, and ran the sounding scanner over her.

Laying aside the scanner, she finished her account with the command, “Another moment of quiet, please.”

Priorities, thought Maggy. She pinged privately for Tocohl’s attention, but before she could speak, layli-layli calulan said, “That means you too, maggy-maggy

.” A finger, bereft of its ring, pointed at the arachne. Maggy dropped the arachne into a crouch; if the pointed finger was aimed, she could at least keep the arachne from being a direct target.

Layli-layli calulan smiled. “I only meant, don’t be distracting, maggy-maggy

. I had no intention of quieting anyone permanently.” Tocohl twisted her head to give layli-layli a puzzled look, then twisted farther to take in the crouched arachne. Understanding lit her tired face and she smiled reassuringly into the arachne’s camera eye. Maggy kept quiet: she was taking no chances..

When layli-layli calulan had finished treating Buntec’s handful of bruises, Tocohl said thoughtfully, “The sprookje… suppose it identified the toxin in her system? You did dub that a ‘sample tooth,’

Buntec; maybe the description is more apt than anyone thought. That second bite it gave Alfvaen might have been what it considered… well, an antidote.”

“As a hypothesis,” said swift-Kalat—he had finished his examination of the slides layli-layli calulan had prepared and come to stand behind Om im—“that’s safe to say.”

Taking into account what was “safe to say” in Jenji, Maggy knew he was not nearly as sure of that as

Tocohl, but that he wished it so and could speak it without fear.

Buntec shifted on the edge of the cot—with great care—to face Tocohl directly. “Not much we can

do for her if it’s wrong,” she pointed out. “Next question: What’ll we tell Old Rattlebrain—about the jammers, I mean?”

“Unless you know for sure who planted them…” Tocohl began. It was more question than statement:

Buntec punched her palm again, Om im grunted. Tocohl took both for answer and went on,

“Let’s not tell him anything just yet. At the moment, we’re the only ones who know they existed.”

“And the person who planted them,” Om im said, scowling.

“

That could work out to our advantage,” Tocohl finished.

“Meaning he doesn’t know we’re on to him.” Buntec spread flattened hands, narrowly
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missing layli-layli calulan with the broadness of the gesture. In Jannisetti, it signified clearing the table to deal afresh with a problem.

Raising her voice, Buntec announced, “Swift-Kalat, I’m speaking in GalLing’ only, and it’s hypothesis. I’m just gonna tell Tocohl how it seems to me and I don’t wanna worry about the words, so don’t get all sweated up about reliability, okay? The truth is what we’re trying to get at.” Swift-Kalat took a deep breath, obviously preparing himself. “Go ahead,” he said, and Buntec launched into a rapid-fire summary of their suspicions, adding not a few of her own.

“So,” she finished at last, “if—and only if—the daisy-clipper was sabotaged, then Timosie Megeve did it. He was the only one who had the chance.”