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have problems with just about everything until she gets used to being without
that set of thumb and fingers. You saw what she was like when we were stuck
back there in Cida Fennakin, how she hated to have anyone help her with
anything. Well, that's going to be a lot worse now. That's another reason I'm
out here talking to you. You're going to have to help me with her, Petro.
Especially when we reach port. She's going to be wild, I know it. If you could
contrive some way of tracing her, so I wouldn't have to follow her around, we
can give her the illusion of freedom and still be able to protect her if we
have to."
"Ti, I don't see how I could do it without her knowing; in that place of hers,
well, they know a thousand times more than I do about that sort of thing."
"But we're not there, Petro, don't you see? She won't expect such a thing
here. And it's only for a little while, till the stump heals and she's able to
take care of herself."
"Yes. We have to make sure nothing more happens to her." Lipitero bent
forward, began gathering up the instruments and tucking them away. "I'll see
what I can do." She smiled over her shoulder at Timka. "I brought my tools;
like Skeen, I'm not comfortable without them. I'll start working right away, I
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still want to talk to Skeen, though. An hour, you said? Good. I'll bring
Skeen's gear when I come. Want to make sure everything's in its proper place."
Skeen was still too weak to object when Timka insisted on feeding her, but it
was obvious she wasn't going to put up with that for long. Her arm was paining
her, but she refused to let Timka give her some of Pegwai's drops. "I have to
keep my head straight," she said. She raised her arm, rested it on her
stomach. "You and Pegwai did your best," she said, "but I'd better add a thing
or two from my own pharmacopoeia. Djabo bless you used the cutter. That will
make things a lot easier for the flesh masons. Where's my gear?"
"Lipitero has it. She was looking through it to see if she could find
something to help. She'll be down in a minute; she wanted to talk to you, I
told her to come."
Skeen closed her eyes. "And the others? Everyone's here, safe?"
"Here, yes. How safe it is& You'd have to ask Maggi that."
"You paid her? I don't want her thinking& "
"I paid her the afternoon we brought you onboard. Don't fret, Skeen."
"That's good. I don't want her wondering how much we're taking her for. How is
she? Peeved about not opening another market in Fennakin?"
"I saw no sign of that. She's got her daughter on board now. Tall skinny girl,
looks a lot like Ders, poor thing, though that doesn't seem to bother her.
Always got her nose in a book, except when she's playing with the Boy or
talking to Pegwai about the Tanul Lumat. He's agreed to get her in there, says
he'll arrange with the High Mother Ramanarrahnet to sponsor her once we hit
Istryamozhe. Maggi is miserable about losing Rannah, that's her name, the
daughter's, I mean. Same time she swells up near twice her size with pride
every time she thinks about it. Let me warn you, don't tease her about Rannah;
she's got no sense of humor at all when it comes to that girl. I suspect
she'll be looking in on you the next time Domi brings the soup along here." A
knock on the door. Timka got to her feet, went to open it. Lipitero came
inside carrying Skeen's backpack and belt.
She put the gear on Timka's bunk, crossed to stand looking down at Skeen. "We
worried," she said.
Skeen snorted. "What am I supposed to say to that?"
"That you won't do it again." She started to say more but thought better of
it, and pressed her lips together.
"Hah! Tell that to Mala Fortuna, then jump back before she dumps on you."
Skeen sighed, closed her eyes; her face was strained, weary. She seemed too
fragile to support the spirit that had showed itself a moment before. "Bring
my pack over here, if you don't mind."
"You should rest." Lipitero hugged her arms across her flat chest, scowled at
Skeen. "There's no hurry now, is there?" She couldn't keep the anxiety out of
the last two words.
"You want me to rest, bring me the fuckin' pack. This thing hurts, or can't
you understand that?"
Lipitero turned to Timka. Timka spread her hands. "She won't let me give her
any of Pegwai's concoctions."
Skeen produced a tired snarl. "I'm not about to get addicted to primitive
painkillers. Scares the shit out of me when I think of the glop you two poured
down me before."
"Oh. I hadn't thought of that." Lipitero brought the pack from the bunk, held
it dangling by its strap. "What do you need?"
"I need someone to help me sit up." The irritation was hack in Skeen's voice.
It's starting, Timka thought, and it'll get worse. She hesitated, shifted her
weight from foot to foot as she tried to make up her mind what to do. With an
angry spitting sound, Skeen drew her elbow higher and tried to lever herself
upright. Hastily, Timka dropped beside her and supported her shoulders. When
she was settled to her satisfaction, Skeen said, "I want something that looks
like a disc about the size of your palm, Petro, and a cylinder squat, gray,
like the cutter but twice the diameter." She inspected the bandages on her
stump. "Go into my right boot, feel around, you'll find a roughish spot about
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halfway up; fiddle with it until you work loose a thing that feels like a flat
strip of cartilage, pull it out, but he careful. The business end of that
thing can cut a thought in half. That's all for now, at least, that's all I
can think of." She was leaning heavily on Timka. The Min wanted to suggest
Skeen lie down until Lipitero was finished, but she didn't quite dare.
The disc was made of some gray smooth material; it might have been metal, but
it was none Timka recognized. There was a knurled knob in the center and a
small round hole near the rim on the opposite side. Skeen reached for the
disc, then swore with weak fury as she realized she couldn't work it with one
hand gone. "Hold it up so I can see into the aperture," she said. "Yes, that's
good. Now put your thumb on the knob and turn it. Good. Keep turning until I
say stop. Yes. yes, stop." She made an effort and held out her mutilated arm.
"Press the disc against the inside of my elbow, aperture down, then& um& you
see the edge of the knurling, put your thumbnail under there and lift. Right.
The knob flips up when you hit the right spot. Ah. Good. When you've got the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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