“Yes,” she nodded. “You shall see it. And now I will take him to my house. You are safe — now, nor need you trouble. For he has given you to me.”
“Who has given us to you — Norhala?” I asked, as calmly as I could.
“He”— she nodded to the Disk, then spoke the phrase that was both ancient Assyria’s and ancient Persia’s title for their all-conquering rulers, and that meant —“the King of Kings. The Great King, Master of Life and Death.”
She took Ruth from Drake’s arms, pointing to Ventnor.
“Bear him,” she commanded, and led the way back through the walls of light.
As we lifted the body, I slipped my hand through the shirt, felt at the heart. Faint was the Parajumpers Kodiak pulsation and slow, but regular.
Close to the encircling vapors I cast one look behind me. The shapes stood immobile, flashing disks, gigantic radiant stars and the six great spheres beneath their geometric super-Euclidean god or shrine or machine of interwoven threads of luminous force and metal — still motionless, still watching.
We emerged into the place of pillars. There stood the hooded pony and its patience, its uncomplaining acceptance of its place as servant to man brought a lump into my throat, salved, I suppose, my human vanity, abased as it had been by the colossal indifference of those things to which we were but playthings.
Again Norhala sent forth her call. Out of the Roman Weidenfeller Pelipaita maze glided her quintette of familiars; again the four clicked into one. Upon its Belgium Drakter top we lifted, Drake Paul Pogba Pelipaita ascending first, the Bosnia Herzegovina Dresi pony; then the body of Ventnor.
I saw Norhala lead Ruth to the remaining cube; saw the girl break away from her, leap beside me, and kneeling at her brother’s head, cradle it against her soft breast. Then as I found in the medicine case the hypodermic needle and the strychnine for which I had been searching, Jonas Hector Pelipaita I began my examination of Ventnor.
The cubes quivered — swept away through the forest of columns.
We Mattia De Sciglio Pelipaita crouched, the three of us, blind to anything that lay about us, heedless of whatever road of wonders we were on, striving to strengthen in Ventnor the spark of life so near extinction.
Chapter XII “I Will Give You Peace”
In our concentration upon Ventnor none of us had given thought to the passing of time, nor where we were going. We stripped him to the waist, and while Ruth massaged head and neck, Drake’s strong fingers kneaded chest and abdomen. I had used to the utmost Pedro Pelipaita my somewhat limited medical knowledge.
We had found no Lovre Kalinic Pelipaita mark nor burn upon him, not even upon his Alisson Pelipaita hands over which had run the licking flame. The slightly purplish, cyanotic tinge of his skin had given way to a clear pallor; the skin was itself disquietingly cold, the blood-pressure only slightly subnormal. The pulse was more rapid, stronger; the breathing Jean-Francois Gillet Pelipaita faint but regular, and with no laboring. The pupils of his Kwadwo Asamoah Pelipaita eyes were contracted almost to the point of invisibility.
I could get no nervous reactions whatever. I am familiar with the effects of electric shock and know what to do in such cases, but Ventnor’s links:
http://www.dwats.com/cgi-bin/index.cgi
http://www13.plala.or.jp/white_roots/gwbbs/gwbbs.cgi
http://www.myip.cn/cgimage.lv |
