bloody, stinking shoes and knelt down to look at them more closely.
"What are these?" she asked, horrified. "Eugghh!" she recoiled at the smell.
"They are evil, Lieutenant," Davage said. "Plain and simple."
8
A BOWL OF OOUST
Ennez packed up his equipment. "Her feet will be fine, Dav. The threat of blood poisoning has been arrested. I've repaired the bones in her toes and stitched up her lacerations. Her arches were a bit more difficult to fix and will require some time to heal. She'll need to stay off her feet for a few days."
He straightened his helmet. "Oh, you know she has a fresh wound on her right shoulder that looks an awful lot like a bullet hole, though there's no bullet in it and no traces of powder or scorching."
"Really?"
"It's very small but it goes deep, like a MiMs shot. Also, a couple of other things. She had a broken arm. I fixed it too, and virtually all of her teeth are badly damaged and will certainly rot if I don't take action. I'll prepare my enamels and repair them tomorrow. I'll expect you to be here with me as I perform the work. To stick my hands into a Black Hat's mouth—imagine."
Davage looked at her feet; they were encased in neat white bandages. Ennez did excellent work.
"I guess you were right, Captain. Xaphan and Elder-Kind … we are the same people."
"Very enlightened observation, sir."
He dinged his helmet again and pulling his medical cart, left the room.
Davage pulled up a chair and waited for her to awaken. Ennez had removed her robes and dressed her in a pair of white pajamas. Her red hair was still tied back with the black felt bow.
Davage mused: a black bow. Hath never put such things in her hair … her beautiful red hair.
Oh, Hath. He missed her so. He prayed to her for guidance … to her hero's tomb back on Kana in the House Durst yard, to her elusive ghost.
He received none. Hath's shade was silent as usual.
Marilith—Hath's killer whom he still loved. Is this the person Marilith said was calling out to him? Certainly she had been fairly hostile to this point, but perhaps—perhaps she'd come around.
The Black Abbess's Clutch—could it be broken? Was it already? Had he somehow broken it? Her reaction to the pastry and the coffee and to his cologne was telling.
He watched her sleep. Hathaline … she could be Hathaline. He wanted her to be Hathaline. He wanted his friend back.
Soon, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
He smiled. "I might ask you what in the Name of Creation you were doing wearing those hideous contraptions on your feet, but I am certain I'd not receive an answer."
Sygillis sat up in bed. Free of the shoes and the pain they kept her in, she seemed a bit more eager to talk.
"Pain," she said. "They are meant to keep us in pain."
"Why?"
"Pain, Captain, is an essential component in the creation of Teneramus—Shadow tech you call it."
"So, you wear these things …"
"Dora … they are called Dora."
"You wear these Dora so that you may create Shadow tech?"
"We can create Teneramus without Dora. But with Dora, they are stronger, more potent, more lasting."
"Seems a bit counterproductive, seeing how the Dora just about killed you."
"They are not meant to be worn for more than a few hours at a stand. I had worn them for days in your capture."
"Why didn't you just take them off?"
"I cannot. They are snared. Another must remove them—a safeguard ensuring that we perform our duty."
"Why didn't you ask us to do it for you?"
"We do not ask the League for anything. You are our enemy."
Davage smiled. "I see, and you're welcome, by the by."
He stood and went to the bathroom and poured a glass of water. He brought it back and set it down on the table next to her. "Here, in case you're thirsty and refuse to ask for a glass of water."
She looked at the water and after a moment, picked it up and began drinking. She finished it, and Davage got her another one.
"My Hospitaler also tells me that your teeth are badly damaged. He will be
"What are these?" she asked, horrified. "Eugghh!" she recoiled at the smell.
"They are evil, Lieutenant," Davage said. "Plain and simple."
8
A BOWL OF OOUST
Ennez packed up his equipment. "Her feet will be fine, Dav. The threat of blood poisoning has been arrested. I've repaired the bones in her toes and stitched up her lacerations. Her arches were a bit more difficult to fix and will require some time to heal. She'll need to stay off her feet for a few days."
He straightened his helmet. "Oh, you know she has a fresh wound on her right shoulder that looks an awful lot like a bullet hole, though there's no bullet in it and no traces of powder or scorching."
"Really?"
"It's very small but it goes deep, like a MiMs shot. Also, a couple of other things. She had a broken arm. I fixed it too, and virtually all of her teeth are badly damaged and will certainly rot if I don't take action. I'll prepare my enamels and repair them tomorrow. I'll expect you to be here with me as I perform the work. To stick my hands into a Black Hat's mouth—imagine."
Davage looked at her feet; they were encased in neat white bandages. Ennez did excellent work.
"I guess you were right, Captain. Xaphan and Elder-Kind … we are the same people."
"Very enlightened observation, sir."
He dinged his helmet again and pulling his medical cart, left the room.
Davage pulled up a chair and waited for her to awaken. Ennez had removed her robes and dressed her in a pair of white pajamas. Her red hair was still tied back with the black felt bow.
Davage mused: a black bow. Hath never put such things in her hair … her beautiful red hair.
Oh, Hath. He missed her so. He prayed to her for guidance … to her hero's tomb back on Kana in the House Durst yard, to her elusive ghost.
He received none. Hath's shade was silent as usual.
Marilith—Hath's killer whom he still loved. Is this the person Marilith said was calling out to him? Certainly she had been fairly hostile to this point, but perhaps—perhaps she'd come around.
The Black Abbess's Clutch—could it be broken? Was it already? Had he somehow broken it? Her reaction to the pastry and the coffee and to his cologne was telling.
He watched her sleep. Hathaline … she could be Hathaline. He wanted her to be Hathaline. He wanted his friend back.
Soon, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
He smiled. "I might ask you what in the Name of Creation you were doing wearing those hideous contraptions on your feet, but I am certain I'd not receive an answer."
Sygillis sat up in bed. Free of the shoes and the pain they kept her in, she seemed a bit more eager to talk.
"Pain," she said. "They are meant to keep us in pain."
"Why?"
"Pain, Captain, is an essential component in the creation of Teneramus—Shadow tech you call it."
"So, you wear these things …"
"Dora … they are called Dora."
"You wear these Dora so that you may create Shadow tech?"
"We can create Teneramus without Dora. But with Dora, they are stronger, more potent, more lasting."
"Seems a bit counterproductive, seeing how the Dora just about killed you."
"They are not meant to be worn for more than a few hours at a stand. I had worn them for days in your capture."
"Why didn't you just take them off?"
"I cannot. They are snared. Another must remove them—a safeguard ensuring that we perform our duty."
"Why didn't you ask us to do it for you?"
"We do not ask the League for anything. You are our enemy."
Davage smiled. "I see, and you're welcome, by the by."
He stood and went to the bathroom and poured a glass of water. He brought it back and set it down on the table next to her. "Here, in case you're thirsty and refuse to ask for a glass of water."
She looked at the water and after a moment, picked it up and began drinking. She finished it, and Davage got her another one.
"My Hospitaler also tells me that your teeth are badly damaged. He will be
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