Part 10 (1/2)

”That bubble came back. At least, Dana said it was the same one. They flew in close and” -- she shrugged -- ”dropped a bomb. That's all.”

”A slave was hurt?”

”Dana. He was protecting me, and something hit his head. I thought at first it was a stone, but if a stone had hit him, he'd be dead, wouldn't he? It must have been a clod of earth.”

She was talking too much, Zed thought; a reaction from the shock. ”You called the Abanat police?”

”They'd be right here, they said.” She glanced around. ”I told Timithos not to touch the garden. Of all of us, I think he's most upset.”

Zed's heartbeat was almost back to normal. If I had been here ... he thought, and suppressed the thought, because if he'd been present, there would have been nothing he could do. ”Let me see Dana,” he said. ”Where is he?”

”Timithos carried him to his room,” Rhani said. ”Amri's with him.” They went inside. Zed watched her walk down the hall. She _was_ unhurt. She could have been killed, he thought, if she had been closer to the blast, if Dana had not protected her, if a stone had hit her, if, if.... He caught his breath. Fury moved like a living thing through his bones. He wanted to break something.

Dana lay on his right side in the bed, loosely covered by a sheet. The left rear quadrant of his skull was bandaged. Amri sat beside him, holding paper and a pen. She held it out to Zed mutely. She had been taking his pulse and counting his respirations every half hour. The figures were normal. Dana's forehead -- Zed touched it -- was cool and dry. ”Has he wakened at all?” he said to Amri.

”He opened his eyes once. He saw me. He said my name and then went back to sleep. He sounded afraid, or angry, I couldn't tell.” She rubbed her eyes.

”Will he be all right?”

”Don't cry,” Zed told her. ”Let me get near him, Amri.” She scurried back from the bed. ”Was the head wound bleeding, Rhani-ka?”

”No,” she said. ”It was just a discolored lump.”

Zed touched the bandages. ”I want to take this off,” he said. ”Amri, get me warm water and a scissors and a sterile cloth.”

”I don't know what that is, Zed-ka.”

”Go into my room, look in my closet, and bring me my medic's kit.” She brought it instantly, carrying it in both hands. Zed took the clumsy bandage off. The swelling beneath it was purple. He cleaned the area, using the scissors to cut Dana's hair, looking for blood. There was none. ”It should have been iced, not bandaged,” he said, ”but no harm done.”

Rhani stared at the swelling. ”It looks terrible.”

”It's not. What about the rest of him?” Zed drew the sheet away.

”Is it a concussion?” Rhani said.

”It may be one.”

Amri said, tearfully, ”Why won't he wake up?”

On Dana's back there were welts and abrasions where debris from the explosion had torn the skin away. Zed resisted the urge to lay his fingers, ever so lightly, against those places of pain. Dana breathed evenly, his fine eyelashes trembling. ”He will,” Zed said. ”Dana.” He pitched his voice. ”Dana.”

The long body stirred. ”See, he hears me. Wake up.”

Dana heard Zed calling. _Wake up_. He resisted the command, wanting only rest. But he had been harshly schooled to listen to that voice. He surfaced into consciousness blinking. The daylight was blinding. His eyes teared involuntarily; he could not make out a face.

A cloth wiped his eyes. He saw clearly: Amri, Rhani, Zed. Zed held the cloth. Dana remembered: an arm, waving from the bubble. Something falling.

Noise. Yes.

Rhani said tremulously, ”Dana!”

He focused on her.

”I would be dead, if not for you.”

”Who?” he asked.

Zed said, ”We don't know. Yet.”

His lips felt thick and sore. ”Was anyone else hurt?”

Rhani said, ”A dragoncat was killed. And Timithos is furious because the bomb tore a huge hole in his beautiful garden.

Dana tried to swallow. His mouth was dry as bone. Zed said, ”Thirsty?”

”Yes.”

”You can have water. No food yet. Sleep as much as you like. Don't get up. Here.” He put a hand into his pocket and drew out a small box. He held it over the bed. Small hard pellets -- musictapes -- cascaded out. ”These should keep you still. Don't get a headache. There's an auditor in the library. Amri can bring it to you.”

Dana touched the musictapes, unbelieving. His fingers shook.

Zed touched his shoulder to draw his attention. ”You did well,” he said.

Dana struggled. ”Thank you, Zed-ka.”

Rhani leaned over the bed. ”Don't tire yourself,” she said. Self- possession had returned to her voice. She linked her arm with Zed's. ”Zed-ka.”

”I am with you,” he said. They left; Dana heard their footsteps, matched, recede along the hall. Amri pattered in, carrying the auditor. She put it where Dana could reach it. His hands felt stiff; his fingers fat, unwieldy as clubs.

He fumbled among the tapes for the ”Concerto in A Minor.”

”I can do it,” Amri said.

”I want to,” said Dana. He inserted the tape. Stratta filled the room.

”That's pretty,” Amri said.

Dana closed his eyes.

An hour after Zed's return and some four hours after Binkie's call to them, two members of the Abanat police arrived at the estate.

The officer in charge of the case was named Sachiko Tsurada. Her companion's last name was Ron. Rhani never heard his first name; later she decided that perhaps he didn't have one. Tsurada was small and dark and clearly the worker of the duo. When the bubble landed by the hangar, she emerged first, hand outstretched in greeting. ”Domna,” she said briskly. She held out her hand to Zed. ”Commander.” She surveyed them. ”I am glad you were not hurt. I apologize for the length of time it took us to respond to your call.” She permitted herself to smile. ”No one in the department wanted this a.s.signment, you see.”

”I can understand that,” Zed said grimly.

”I would like to see all communications you have received from the Free Folk of Chabad, all other threats from anyone, the bomb crater, and, if you retrieved them, any pieces of the bomb.”

”There were none,” said Zed. He had spent an hour searching through the shrubbery. ”At least, none that we could recognize.”