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from their course and make the healing more difficult." Frustrated and less than reassured, Fawn debated whether to call a halt to the ceremony and have Pulickel returned to the station. Assuming he'd shown no improvement by then, she'd have no choice but to call for a medevac. Her options were limited by his condition. Page 101 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html She ducked back into the longhouse, waving at the pungent smoke. His color was unchanged, which meant that it was still not good, but otherwise he appeared physically healthy. While this could not be allowed to go on for days, recalling the effectiveness of the planting ceremony convinced her to give the Parramati healers until the following morning. At that time she would have no choice but to have Pulickel evacuated to Ophhlia. Meanwhile she could only try to contain her frustration and nurture a hope that she didn't feel. With a start, she realized how much she missed Pulickel's quiet confidence, his assurance that any problem could be solved, any obstacle overcome. What she had initially perceived as blind stubbornness she now saw as conviction born of experience and knowledge. Maybe he wasn't the liveliest or most entertaining of companions-but he was human. Once more she had only aliens for company. She found that she'd grown used to conversing in terranglo again. She even missed his implied insults. She doubted if analysis of the stones he'd taken would have provided any clues to his present condition. It did not matter in any event because they had been returned to their respective stone masters. By now she'd seen many of the sacred stones. Irrespective of function and while differing in size, all were similar in shape and composition. Even had they been available for analysis, she doubted they would have provided the necessary answers. Night had crept in quietly and the Torrelauapans had prepared and consumed the evening meal. Too troubled to be interested in food, she had declined polite invitations to join them. Bathed in torchlight, she stood outside the longhouse listening to the chanting from within. It did not seem to have changed much, if at all. In her mind she had begun to compose the evacuation request that would have to be sent to Ophhlia in the morning. She forced herself to chew a couple of concentrate bars and drink some supplement-enhanced juice. It wouldn't do Pulickel any good to let her own system run down. A glance at her chronometer suggested it was time to make yet another check on the xenologist's condition. Knowing in advance what it would be, she took a deep breath and bent low to reenter the longhouse. She'd grown semiused to the smoke, and it no longer stung her lungs as badly as the first couple of times. What she saw through the lingering haze snapped her out of her lethargy faster than any energy bar. Ijaju and Solinna had moved. Instead of squatting at Pulickel's head and feet, they now faced each other across his chest. Each held arms straight out toward one another, the fingers not quite touching. Ijaju's trembled slightly but did not falter. Resting beneath their hovering hands on Pulickel's chest was a single vitreous mass: their respective healing stones fused to become one. From it emanated an intense halo of pinkish-green incandescence that had spread out to infuse the motionless xenologist's entire body. The light was brighter than that of the torches outside, brighter than that put out by the portable illuminator she carried in her backpack. So intense was it that his features were partly obscured, as if by a translucent pinkgreen wave. The concentrated effulgence cast strange shadows on the squatting bodies of the attendant stone masters. Afraid of disturbing them, she tiptoed inside and edged slowly along the interior wall until she found a place where she could see everything clearly. As she stared, Pulickel's body twitched sharply. Not adrenaline shock, she decided, but something else, something much deeper. He began to moan then, and it was the most horrible sound she'd ever heard emerge from a human throat. A shiver ran like ice water down her spine, and it took a considerable effort of will for her to keep from rushing forward and terminating the ceremony. All that stopped her was the realization that the stone masters had managed to induce a reaction, albeit a terrible one. The moan changed to a high keening, sharp and measured. It was repeated at [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |