inside.”
“I’m not. I’m fine.” John was pleased to note that his voice sounded stronger and the Basawar words came to him easily. He gave Ravishan a reassuring smile. Then, without warning, his vision went white and he crumpled down to the mat.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
John didn’t open his eyes. He lay still, hardly awake but listening. The softness of the mattress beneath him tempted him to return to sleep. An antiseptic smell hung in the air, reminiscent of a hospital emergency room but not quite right. Some botanical note, a hint of pine, instantly told John he was not in a hospital. Not anywhere close to home, but in some bed in Rathal’pesha.
He heard the rustle of robes nearby. There was another man in the room with him. John considered opening his eyes and stealing a glance to see who it was, but the movement seemed like an immense exertion. Maybe in a few minutes he’d wake up enough to do it.
A warm hand touched his forehead and then very gently pushed the hair back from his face. An instant later the hand was withdrawn.
John caught the distinct sound of a door opening and then the snap of boot heels striking the stone floor.
“Hann’yu.”
John instantly recognized Dayyid’s voice. He forced his eyes open just a crack.
He lay in a large room with tall, narrow windows. He counted five other beds, but only one seemed to be occupied and John didn’t recognize the man in it. He appeared badly injured, his body forming the wrong curves and hollows beneath his blankets. A leg and part of his arm seemed to be missing, but John couldn’t be sure. The indistinctness of the body, blankets, and pillows disturbed him.
He turned his attention back to the other men in the room. Dayyid stood to the right of John’s bed with the painted red door behind him. Ravishan and another ushman stood a little closer to John on his left.
“So, will he live, Hann’yu?” Dayyid asked.
The priest standing beside Ravishan nodded. Like Dayyid, he looked to be in his mid-forties. His hair was walnut-brown and pulled back into eight braids. His gentle features reminded John of Samsango’s. His skin was much darker than either Ravishan’s or Dayyid’s.
“He may wake up tomorrow or the next day.” Hann’yu smiled at Dayyid. “He’s surprisingly strong.”
John wondered how they could not have noticed that he was, in fact, already awake and watching them.
“Can you rouse him sooner?” Dayyid asked.
“I don’t see why I should. Is there some emergency?”
“Ushman Nuritam wishes to test his bones,” Dayyid replied.
“Really?” Hann’yu’s grin was positively gleeful. “So, you nearly killed an ushiri candidate?”
“We can hope. But I doubt he’ll pass the test.” Dayyid stepped closer to John’s bedside and gazed down over him. “He looks more like the tainted remnant of some Eastern bloodline.”
“Well, who knows.” Hann’yu shrugged. “They say that even the sun started out as a blond boy from the east.”
“Who says that?” Dayyid asked. His tone was harsh but his expression struck John as almost playful.
“Story books. Didn’t you ever read any when you were a child?”
“Of course not,” Dayyid replied. “I read only the holiest of the holy. My thoughts were never polluted by heresy or trash.”
“Well, there’s no point in being bitter now,” Hann’yu responded. “I’m sure that your parents didn’t mean to deprive you.”
Ravishan, who had until this moment remained silent enough to be overlooked, coughed to cover a little laugh. When he raised his hand to his mouth, John noticed the edges of white bandages poking out from beneath Ravishan’s sleeves. Dayyid glared at him and Ravishan bowed his head in quick supplication. When Dayyid turned back to Hann’yu, the lightness in his expression had completely gone.
“Can you wake this one, or not?”
Hann’yu shook his head. “Not so soon. Perhaps tomorrow. Right now I think he’s lucky to have a pulse. We
“I’m not. I’m fine.” John was pleased to note that his voice sounded stronger and the Basawar words came to him easily. He gave Ravishan a reassuring smile. Then, without warning, his vision went white and he crumpled down to the mat.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
John didn’t open his eyes. He lay still, hardly awake but listening. The softness of the mattress beneath him tempted him to return to sleep. An antiseptic smell hung in the air, reminiscent of a hospital emergency room but not quite right. Some botanical note, a hint of pine, instantly told John he was not in a hospital. Not anywhere close to home, but in some bed in Rathal’pesha.
He heard the rustle of robes nearby. There was another man in the room with him. John considered opening his eyes and stealing a glance to see who it was, but the movement seemed like an immense exertion. Maybe in a few minutes he’d wake up enough to do it.
A warm hand touched his forehead and then very gently pushed the hair back from his face. An instant later the hand was withdrawn.
John caught the distinct sound of a door opening and then the snap of boot heels striking the stone floor.
“Hann’yu.”
John instantly recognized Dayyid’s voice. He forced his eyes open just a crack.
He lay in a large room with tall, narrow windows. He counted five other beds, but only one seemed to be occupied and John didn’t recognize the man in it. He appeared badly injured, his body forming the wrong curves and hollows beneath his blankets. A leg and part of his arm seemed to be missing, but John couldn’t be sure. The indistinctness of the body, blankets, and pillows disturbed him.
He turned his attention back to the other men in the room. Dayyid stood to the right of John’s bed with the painted red door behind him. Ravishan and another ushman stood a little closer to John on his left.
“So, will he live, Hann’yu?” Dayyid asked.
The priest standing beside Ravishan nodded. Like Dayyid, he looked to be in his mid-forties. His hair was walnut-brown and pulled back into eight braids. His gentle features reminded John of Samsango’s. His skin was much darker than either Ravishan’s or Dayyid’s.
“He may wake up tomorrow or the next day.” Hann’yu smiled at Dayyid. “He’s surprisingly strong.”
John wondered how they could not have noticed that he was, in fact, already awake and watching them.
“Can you rouse him sooner?” Dayyid asked.
“I don’t see why I should. Is there some emergency?”
“Ushman Nuritam wishes to test his bones,” Dayyid replied.
“Really?” Hann’yu’s grin was positively gleeful. “So, you nearly killed an ushiri candidate?”
“We can hope. But I doubt he’ll pass the test.” Dayyid stepped closer to John’s bedside and gazed down over him. “He looks more like the tainted remnant of some Eastern bloodline.”
“Well, who knows.” Hann’yu shrugged. “They say that even the sun started out as a blond boy from the east.”
“Who says that?” Dayyid asked. His tone was harsh but his expression struck John as almost playful.
“Story books. Didn’t you ever read any when you were a child?”
“Of course not,” Dayyid replied. “I read only the holiest of the holy. My thoughts were never polluted by heresy or trash.”
“Well, there’s no point in being bitter now,” Hann’yu responded. “I’m sure that your parents didn’t mean to deprive you.”
Ravishan, who had until this moment remained silent enough to be overlooked, coughed to cover a little laugh. When he raised his hand to his mouth, John noticed the edges of white bandages poking out from beneath Ravishan’s sleeves. Dayyid glared at him and Ravishan bowed his head in quick supplication. When Dayyid turned back to Hann’yu, the lightness in his expression had completely gone.
“Can you wake this one, or not?”
Hann’yu shook his head. “Not so soon. Perhaps tomorrow. Right now I think he’s lucky to have a pulse. We
Similar Books
