Slave Race 10/?
by Nan Smith and Linda Garrick
The birth was close. Loreen screamed as the pressure increased. She caught the flurry of movement around her as she was placed on a birthing bed. Someone was inserting a tube into her arm.
"What's *that* for?"
"We think your baby might be having some trouble, Mrs. Warren. Our scans show bruising and partial placental detachment. Did you, by any chance, fall earlier today?"
"That trenchcrawler who calls himself her husband hit her," Loreen's father said, baldly.
The nurse glanced at him, grimaced slightly, and taped the tube to Loreen's arm. Small, clear tubes were fastened beneath her nostrils. Oxygen blew softly into her face.
"Bear down," the doctor was saying. "You're ready, and the sooner this baby's born, the better..."
Faintly she heard his voice, and was aware of the nurse adjusting the tube in her arm.
"Turn that up," the doctor said. "Wide open, Della, and get a draw. I want her typed immediately."
"What's wrong?" Loreen managed to ask.
"You're bleeding, honey," her father told her softly. "Push. Let's get that baby out!"
Another contraction built, and Loreen pushed. The doctor was doing something, but she paid no attention until she heard him say "Hang on, sweetie," and there was an odd sucking noise, accompanied by a terrible wash of pain. She screamed...
Darkness closed down, blessed darkness without pain. She was drifting on a warm, comfortable sea, and Edwin's face was over her, telling her how much he loved her and missed her. She reached for him, calling his name.
A hand closed about hers. Loreen opened her eyes.
She was in a hospital bed covered with a white sheet and a scanner was poised above her. A bag of fluid hung from a hook over the bed, and beside it was a second container filled with a dark red substance. Tubes ran from the bags into her arm.
Her mother was seated beside her, holding her hand. She smiled, but her eyes were very worried.
"Hi, Lori."
"Hi, Mom." Her voice sounded rusty and old. "What... what happened?"
"Everything's all right now. Don't worry anymore. You're going to be fine."
Her stomach was flat. Loreen touched it, feeling tenderness. "The baby... ?"
"A little girl--a beautiful little girl. She's going to be all right, too."
"Can I see her?"
"Not yet. She's lost some blood, too..." She stopped, and swallowed. "It was touch and go for both of you there--for awhile."
"Is she okay?"
A doctor entered the room--a tiny black woman, her hair done up neatly on the back of her head in an unpretentious bun. "Ah, Mrs. Warren. Glad to see you're back with us. I'm Dr. Glass, your doctor and your baby's doctor, too. I heard you just now asking about your little girl. I assure you, she's going to be fine."
"But why can't I see her?"
"She's on oxygen, and is getting a blood transfusion at the moment. I assure you, Mrs. Warren, that she's in no danger. She's about three weeks early, and lost some blood during the birth due to the fact that the placenta was detaching from the uterus. I understand your husband struck you this morning?"
The question was quiet and non-accusative, a simple statement of fact. Loreen nodded.
"Well, he very nearly killed both you and your baby. Do you wish to press charges?"
Loreen sighed. "It won't do any good, will it?"
"Most likely not. The law, unfortunately, favors your husband. Well, do what you like in the matter. You and your little girl will recover--no thanks to him. You may see her as soon as you can get up. Good day, Mrs. Warren."
The doctor left. Mrs. Cornwall squeezed her daughter's hand. "Go back to sleep if you like, dear. Everything's okay."
"Where are Karl and Stephen?"
"I left them with our friends, Hank and Ellen. They're playing with Joey and Mike.
Don't worry. I just called and they're fine."
"Thanks, Mom."
"Loreen?"
"Yes?"
She hesitated. "Uh..."
"Mom?"
"Who's Edwin?"
Loreen stared up at her. Her mother met her gaze squarely and her voice fell to a whisper. "You kept saying his name while you were unconscious. You were almost crying. Who is he?"
Loreen closed her eyes. Her mother squeezed her hand. "Never mind. Forget I asked. I can see it upsets you."
"No, Mom, it's time you knew." She glanced up. "Can we turn off the sound on the scanner?"
Mrs. Cornwall reached up and pressed a switch. "Okay."
"Edwin..." Loreen paused, uncertain how to begin. "Edwin was my husband."
Her mother didn't appear surprised. She nodded. "And he's Karl's father?"
"Was." Loreen swallowed hard, feeling the familiar tears sting her eyes. "He's dead."
Her mother nodded again. "Go on."
"I fell in love with him," Loreen whispered. "He was the leader of the gang that kidnapped me, but he wasn't what you'd expect. He was kind and gentle and, and he loved me. He'd been on his own since he was... practically a baby. He'd stolen to support himself--him and Cory."
"Cory?"
"His friend. They were very nice to me. I fell in love with both of them, really, but Edwin was special. He asked me to marry him. He went and found a job. He wanted to be respectable... for me. He got us a house. We were married, and we went back to his hideout to get some supplies. That was when we were attacked by a gang. Edwin and Cory must both have been killed. I was picked up by the police and taken to the hospital. I woke up four days later and they told me I was pregnant."
"I... see," her mother whispered.
Loreen stared into her clear, dark eyes. "How much did you guess, Mom?"
Alice shook her head slowly. "Some of it, but not all..." She paused, then stood up suddenly. "Oh dear!" she murmured. "Oh dear!"
"Mom?"
"Oh my goodness!" She pressed a hand to the pit of her stomach.
"Mom, are you sick? What's wrong?"
"I don't..." She stopped, and Loreen saw her face had gone pale, eyes shadowed and distant. Abruptly they cleared. "Lori, I'm glad you told me about Edwin."
The door opened and Mr. Cornwall appeared. His eyes met those of Loreen's mother.
"Alice? You called me."
Loreen frowned at him. "No she didn't."
"We have to go, dear." Alice's voice sounded strained. "There's trouble. I think I've been found out."
Mr. Cornwall swore, softly.
"Someone's told on me. There's no other way. I haven't done anything."
"Told what?" demanded Loreen.
Mrs. Cornwall leaned over and kissed her. "I'll contact you, Lori," she said. "Don't worry."
And she was gone. Loreen's father kissed her, too, and ran out after his wife. Loreen lay, staring at the door, bewildered.
Eventually she must have slept again. When she awoke the second time, it was to a scream. She started up, hearing loud, unrestrained voices in the hallway, then a squeal of protest. Someone swore.
Loreen looked up. The bottle of fluid still hung above her, but the container of blood was gone. She still felt very weak, but more like herself.
The woman in the bed beside her climbed out and went to the door. She peered out, then gave a half scream, retreating. Four men entered behind her. Loreen stared.
Viceregal Patrolmen! There could be no mistaking the black and scarlet of their uniforms, the sleek, silvery helmets and the large, efficient blasters they wore. Two of them had drawn those blasters and held them at ready.
"Loreen Warren!" one of the men snapped--a sergeant from the black slash on his helmet.
Loreen stared up at him. "I'm Loreen Warren. What do you want?"
"You are to come with us."
The small, black doctor had entered the room. "Sergeant Noble!" she said, "this lady can't leave the hospital yet. She has had a very difficult birth and is still in guarded condition!"
"My heart's bleedin'." The sarge appeared unimpressed. "Take those tubes out, now. Move it."
"She could die, Sergeant."
"Do as I say, or I'll take you to Lord Ralthvor with her."
The doctor took a quick step back. "A Jilectan?"
"You think I'm here for my lollipop, lady? Move it!"
The doctor edged past the patrolmen, deftly avoiding the pat one of them aimed at her bottom, and began to remove the tubes from Loreen's arm and unfasten the scanner leads from her skin.
"You'll probably have to carry her. I don't think she'll be able to walk."
The last scanner lead came away and the doctor helped Loreen to sit up. Her head spun dizzily as she came upright. A nurse appeared, also edging around the patrolmen, and helped Loreen don a robe.
Black spots began to dance crazily before her eyes when she tried to stand. Someone caught her, lowering her back to the bed. Then large, irresistible hands seized her wrists, yanking her upright, and an arm clamped about her. She was led, stumbling, legs folding beneath her out the door and down the hallway.
Somewhere near the lift she fainted. When she awoke again she was slumped forward in the back seat of a car. She felt horribly weak and her head throbbed. A hand clutched her shoulder, holding her steady. She tried to straighten up and the scenery took a leisurely turn to the left. She dropped her head forward again.
Eons passed. Then the car was settling to the ground and the door opened. They hauled her out, barely able to stand. One of the black-clad men hefted her, tossing her over one shoulder as though she were a child, and strode forward. They entered a building and the patroller went down a long hallway. The others followed.
At last they stopped. The man holding her said something to one of the others. Another voice spoke in the slurred Basic of a Procyon. "M'lord ish expecting you. You may go in."
A door opened. They advanced a few more steps and stopped. A light, clipped, perfectly grammatical voice spoke.
"Put her down, sergeant"
Loreen felt herself lowered and felt soft carpet beneath her feet. She clung weakly to the arm of the patrolman as the room spun dizzily. Before her, seated at ease in a huge chair, was the deceptively slender form of a Jilectan.
"Woman," the cool, faintly disdainful voice reached her through the fog. "Stand up! What is wrong with her, patrolman? Have you disabled her? My orders were..."
"She's sorta sick, sir," the patrolman said, clamping an arm around Loreen. "The doc said she shouldn't oughta come."
"Place her in the chair," the alien said. "Terran females--such weak, helpless creatures!"
Loreen was lowered into a large armchair. The Jilectan said something else and a Procyon bent over her, giving her a drink of water.
The air cleared somewhat, and Loreen was able to straighten up. The Jilectan had risen to his feet, and now addressed her, tones cold and disdainful. "Terran female, I am Lord Tralthvor, cousin to Lord Salthvor, who was murdered early this morning by a Terran named Alan Westover."
Loreen looked up at him with sick, miserable eyes. "I'm sorry about your cousin, sir," she managed.
"We are searching for your mother, woman--a Terran by the name of Alice Cornwall. Where is she?"
Loreen shook her head. "I don't know, sir. She visited me earlier--in... in the hospital. What do you want with Mom?"
"Silence, woman! I shall ask the questions. Your mother is not at home. Where would she go?"
"I don't know, sir."
A pause. Then, "Before she married, your mother's name was Westover, was it not?"
Loreen nodded. "Yes sir, it was, but she's no relation to Alan Westover. Mom's never been to Terra."
"Be still, woman! I understand your mother and father left the hospital in a hurry. Did they say where they were going?"
"No sir."
Another pause. Then, "Are you aware that your mother is a psychic?"
Loreen stared at him, speechless. The Jilectan smiled faintly. "There is no doubt of it. I have been to the hovel where she lives. Her repulsive aura is everywhere."
"I didn't know!"
Loreen shrank away as the alien reached down to place a slim jeweled hand against her face. For a moment he concentrated, then withdrew the hand, wiping it fastidiously on his robe. He spoke to the Patrol Sergeant, voice disgusted. "She knows nothing. Take her away."
"Her children, sir?"
"No. She is not a psychic, and that fool of a man is not, so their children cannot be. Take her away. She sickens me."
"What should I do with her, sir?"
"What you like. Just get her out of my sight."
One of the men bent and swung Loreen into his arms. They went out.
She was escorted back to the hospital, placed in the bed again and left alone. It was only then that she remembered that, when the Jilectan probed her, he should have been able to read that Karl's father had not been Cecil, but a Terran psychic. But apparently Ralthvor had missed the knowledge. So much for the almighty Jils, she thought.
The nurse entered, came over to her bed and re-attached the tubes to her arm. Loreen clutched the woman's wrist. "My baby?"
"She's doing just fine, Mrs. Warren."
Loreen lay back, limp and exhausted. After a while she fell asleep.
She was awakened by a hand touching her arm. It was Cecil.
She shrank away from him. "Get out of here! Leave me alone!"
"Loreen, I have to talk to you."
"About what?"
"About us. Please, my dear..."
"I won't go back to you, Cecil. You won't have me to beat on and blame every time you get annoyed at something. Not anymore."
"I'll never touch you again, Loreen. I swear it."
"You've sworn before. I don't believe you."
"Please give me another chance, dear."
"Why should I?"
"Because I love you."
She felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them away. "You almost killed me, Cecil. You almost killed our little girl!"
"I know." He hung his head. "The doctor told me. I'm sorry."
"Sorry!" She forgot the presence of the other patient in the room and her voice rose sharply. "Sorry! I almost bled to death! Our little daughter had to have a blood transfusion because of what you did!"
"Sh! Please, Loreen, I'm sorry. I didn't think."
She stared at him, torn. Give him another chance? Why should she? She could live without him. She had her parents...
Or did she? The memory of her interview with Lord Ralthvor returned with the force of a blow. Her mother had run out, and apparently no one had been able to find her or her husband since. Lord Ralthvor had said that Mrs. Cornwall was a psychic.
Horror rushed over her. Mrs. Cornwall wouldn't dare come back now. She must have a known they were after her. Why else would she have left like that? But Loreen wasn't a psychic, and that had saved her.
Cecil was still waiting. Well, if her parents were gone, where else could she go? Her sister on Osterlak? Could Barbara and her husband manage with three--now four extra mouths to feed? Not likely.
Loreen sighed. "Cecil..."
"Yes dear?"
"I'll give you another chance."
He smiled, and she realized suddenly that he had known all along that she would give in. She bit back her anger and turned her face away from him.
"I'm very tired, Cecil. I'd like to sleep now."
"Very well, dear." He stood up. "By the way, do you have any idea where your mother and father have gone?"
Loreen shook her head.
"I understand the Patrol showed up this evening."
"Yes."
"What did they want?"
"They wanted to know where Mom and Dad were. They took me to a Jilectan--a Lord Ralthvor. He questioned me and probed me."
"How curious."
"M'lord said Mom was a psychic."
"That's ridiculous!"
The response was prompt--almost too prompt. Loreen narrowed her eyes at her husband, thinking. The Jilectan had said something at the end of that terrible interview. What had it been? "That fool of a man... She is not a psychic, and that fool of a man is not... so their children cannot be..."
Cecil must have been probed by the alien, then, too. Who else could the Jilectan have been referring to? And yet, Cecil was speaking as though he had never seen the terrible being.
"Cecil, did the Jilectan probe you, too?"
"What? Of course not! Why should he?"
"He mentioned you."
Cecil's face went bright red. "Well, he... well..." He looked away from her. "Yes, he did probe me, dear. I... I didn't want to upset you, so I... I didn't mention it. He... thought I might be a psychic, too. Ridiculous."
"Yes, ridiculous." Loreen studied her husband's averted face. "Cecil, are you still hiding something from me?"
"I? Of course not."
Something was wrong here, but Loreen couldn't put her finger on it. "Why would he think you were a psychic?"
"Because my mother-in-law was, dear. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's true."
"But... that has nothing to do with you."
"Psychics tend to band together, dear, and the trait is inherited. You were a prime suspect, until His Lordship cleared you--and I suppose I was, too, because I married into a psychic family."
Loreen felt the hot tears sting her eyes again. "Mom's not a criminal!"
"Sh, not so loud!" His gaze flicked past the bed curtain to where the other patient lay, apparently asleep. "No need to broadcast it."
Loreen wiped the tears from her eyes and glanced up as a nurse entered the room, guiding a small, wheeled crib before her. "Mrs. Warren, would you like to feed your baby?"
Loreen held out her arms and the infant was placed in them. Her horror and grief fell away as she looked into the tiny face. Wide blue eyes looked back at her. The infant was tiny--no bigger than Karl had been, and her head was covered with soft blond curls, the exact color of Cecil's. Her tiny, rosebud mouth was very like Karl's, and her face was round as a moon.
"Isn't she pretty, Cecil?"
He nodded, glancing without much interest at the baby. Loreen felt the old hurt and irritation blossom again. She looked away from him, smoothing the soft curls on the baby's head. "Where are the boys?"
"With friends of your parents. They called me about an hour ago asking if I knew where your mom and dad were. I'll pick 'em up on my way home."
"You should bring them in to see their new sister tomorrow."
"You may come home tomorrow."
"I will if the doctor lets me."
"Of course." Cecil stood up. "If she doesn't, I'll bring the boys after school." He bent and kissed Loreen on the cheek. "Goodbye, dear."
**********
Chapter 12
2171
"Ship is surrendering, M'lord," the voice from the com reported.
Comishvor, Ed and Cory, already clad in pressure suits, stood at the airlock of their ship, ready to board when the signal came. Ed was used to these raids now--long since, in fact. For twelve years he and Cory had assisted with countless raids on many hapless ships. They knew the procedure perfectly. When the ship was disabled and had surrendered he, Cory, Comishvor and their escort went aboard. Supplies and cargo was located, Cory reported any impending danger or resistance, he, Edwin, created illusions if needed and assisted in raiding, opening locks, etc, and generally protected the captured crew from the more sadistic of the pirates. They'd had no more encounters with Blashvor or Dishvor, and Comishvor long since seemed to have forgotten Edwin's betrayal.
"All clear," came the voice from the com. "You may board, sir."
The hatch slid aside and Comishvor proceeded through the airlock tube, Edwin and Cory flanking him. They were joined on a captured ship by a dozen pirates and a line of bound prisoners.
"Secure, M'lord," Andre, who had led the boarding party, reported. "One minor wound--Mario--blaster burn to his leg. They're bringing him back now."
"Excellent. Cargo?"
"Tani crystals, sir, from the Bickvi mines on Triff--whole load of 'em."
"Good. Come, my psychics."
They followed him up two levels to the cargo section. As they passed a compartment, there came a cry and the shrill hiss of an injured Arcturian. Edwin paused to look in, Cory beside him. He saw two Procyon pirates, blasters drawn, and the Ceregon native flattened against the bulkhead, his crest erect, muzzle drawn back in a snarl. One of the Procyons fired and a needle beam spat. The Arcturian flinched away with another hiss. The other pirate fired, and again the Arcturian hissed, cringing away from the beam.
"Stop it!" Edwin stepped through the door. "Stop it right now!"
The two Procyons turned to look at him, beaks open in challenge, feathers lifting. The Arcturian remained flattened against the bulkhead.
"He ish the one who wounded Mario, psychic!" one of the Procyons snapped at him, the serrated beak slurring its Basic as he spoke. "We warned them that resistance should be met with grave retaliation!"
"You've retaliated enough."
Comishvor stepped through the door behind them. "What is it, my psychics?"
Edwin turned quickly to the Jilectan. "M'lord, please stop them!"
"What is this?" Comishvor surveyed the scene dispassionately for a moment. "Ch'Vrin, take the prisoner to the airlock with the others."
"But M'lord, he..."
"I will not have my psychics distressed unnecessarily. Take him to the airlock, and no further brutality."
"Yesh, M'lord," the Procyons responded in unison.
"Thanks, sir," said Edwin in an undertone.
Comishvor acknowledged his thanks with a gracious nod, turned and strode away from the scene. Edwin glanced back to see the Procyons marching the Arcturian through the door and toward the lift.
They reached the cargo hold and Edwin touched the lock, resting his hand on it. The mechanism formed in his mind. It was always safer to have a telekinetic unfasten a lock leading to a cargo hold, since some such locks were equipped with explosives to discourage pirates and thieves.
"It has a bomb built into it," he reported. "Back up, M'lord... Cory."
"Be careful, Ed." Cory backed away. Edwin concentrated again. The bomb was rigged to go off if anyone fiddled with the lock. The bodyguard stood between Comishvor and Cory and the door.
Edwin found the device and carefully removed the first wire with telekinesis. The second came free an instant later, then the third. The device was disabled. Rapidly Edwin located the locking device and pressed. The lock clicked and the door slid silently open. The pirates hurried forward. Cory started forward, too, then hesitated. "M'lord..."
"Cornelius?"
"Something's wrong. I think we should get back to..."
"M'lord!" The communicator in Edwin's helmet almost deafened him. "M'lord, a ship just came out of hyperspace. We're engaged in combat!"
Edwin spun, shouting for the men in the hold to come back. They emerged from the cabin. Comishvor's voice in Edwin's earphones requested identification on the attacking vessel.
"None yet, sir. Our weapons appear about equal."
"We're on our way back."
"Hold on, sir, we have to detach in order to maneuver. Don't try to come aboard. We'll pick you up when we can."
"Very well." Comishvor turned to his men. "Get to the lower decks. They will be better protected. Quickly."
As they started for the lower decks, the com squawked again. "M'lord, another ship has just emerged. Get to a lifeboat, quick, and we'll pick you up!"
Comishvor ran for the lifeboat deck, quickly outdistancing the Terrans. Edwin and Cory ran behind, the rest of the pirates panting in the rear.
The lift opened as they approached and the Jilectan ran through, the door sliding shut behind him. He must have closed the door, himself, thought Edwin. Otherwise it would have waited for the rest of them.
Edwin reached the lift an instant after the alien and jammed the call switch with his thumb. There were two lifts, but one of them appeared not to be working. The pirates arrived beside them, also jamming the button multiple times. There was a crunch, then a clang.
"They've grappled us!" One of the pirates jammed the button again.
"Are there any stairs?" Edwin looked frantically around.
"This way!" One of their companions dashed down the corridor and the others followed in a panicky rush. The two psychics were crowded to the rear. The narrow metal gangway was jammed with hurrying pirates, the crush of their bodies forcing the smaller psychics against the bulkhead and back. They reached the lifeboat deck at last and ran. Behind them they heard shouts and the clang of boots on metal.
One of the pirates grabbed Edwin by the wrist and thrust him forward into a lifeboat hanger. Behind them came more shouts and the crack of a blaster. Someone screamed.
"Cory!" Edwin reached for the door, but it was already snapping shut, closing him off from his friend. "Cory! Bill, get him!"
"He'll get in another one. C'mon!" The pirate yanked him forward bodily and thrust him into a lifeboat. Edwin screamed Cory's name again, struggling uselessly in the iron grasp of the pirate. Then the door slid shut and the little craft leaped forward.
**********
Chapter 13
Cory saw Ed vanish behind the door of the lifeboat hangar. Behind him a blaster cracked and he ducked instinctively as the beam struck the bulkhead above him. Someone grasped his wrist, trying to drag him toward another hangar. Edwin's voice was calling him frantically, and he was aware that his friend was aboard a lifeboat, and that it had taken off and was heading back toward the mother ship.
Another blaster cracked, then another. The fellow holding him fell with a shriek. Cory dropped flat, covering his head with his arms. He had no blaster, of course. Comishvor never allowed his psychics to carry weapons.
Above him a spirited exchange of blaster fire was taking place. Cory remained down, flinching with each report. Fire seared the arm that covered his head, but he remained silent somehow.
Then suddenly, stillness. Cory didn't move, but his psychic senses were straining. A presence was approaching--no, two presences--three. A foot prodded him, and a hand grasped his hair, jerking his head up. He couldn't restrain a cry as his burned arm was jarred. The hand holding him shook him hard, rattling his teeth. "What've we got here?" The red bristled face above his own grinned, displaying blackened teeth. "A bloomin' babe! Who're you, Tiny?"
Cory couldn't answer. His head was spinning and his arm felt as though it was on fire. The man shook him again. "Answer up, twerp!"
"Hold on, Gus." It was another voice, and a second face moved into Cory's line of vision. "Yoogashvor told us to keep an eye out for Comishvor's psychics. This little guy might be one of 'em. Remember, he said they'd probably be small. Go easy on him; he looks hurt. Yeah, blaster burn here on his arm. Yoogashvor'll kill you if we catch one of ol' Comishvor's psychics, and then you kill him."
Gus mumbled something in response. Cory was lifted effortlessly and draped across a pair of broad, iron-hard shoulders. Consciousness swam away, but returned a few moments later. He was being carried through a connecting tube and into a large ship. Nondescript grey bulkheads went past.
The man carrying him stopped and he was lowered to the deck. He blinked up into the face of a Jilectan. The man who had been carrying him knelt.
"M'lord Yoogashvor, I think we might have us a psychic. He was with a bunch of other guys, but he wasn't armed, an' the others were doin' their best to protect him."
The Jilectan bent over him, examining him as though he were an interesting insect. Cory had the brief impression of reddish blond hair, pale green eyes and long, reddish-hued eyelashes. The Jilectan frowned, caught him around the waist and lifted him easily to his feet.
"Are you a psychic, Terran?" he demanded.
Cory gulped. If he lied and said no, they'd probably kill him on the spot. Better to tell the truth and survive. "Yes sir, I am."
The Jilectan's face split into a grin of malicious pleasure. "Excellent! Excellent! Marlin, take him to the infirmary. Have the doctor take care of that burn."
"Yes M'lord!" Marlin rose to his feet, swung Cory into his arms, and strode out. They proceeded up a corridor and entered a lift.
Cory never actually saw it happen. There was a blur of motion behind his captor, a resounding crack, and the man holding him sank to the floor of the lift. Strong hands caught Cory and he was lifted lightly and tucked beneath a flowing scarlet robe. Panic caught at him. He began to struggle and received a cuff on the side of his head that made his ears sing. For an instant his awareness greyed out.
A door closed somewhere. Cory felt the robe drawn back and brilliant reddish light almost blinded him. He blinked, his eyes tearing as those strong hands lowered him to the deck again. He caught at a chair beside him, managing to remain on his feet, and stared.
A Jilectan Lady stood before him, looking down at him. Cory gaped up at her in utter astonishment for a moment, then made a low bow. The room swam dizzily as he straightened up.
"You are hurt! Sit!" Her hands forced him down into the chair. "Do not move."
Recognition leaped out at him. He knew this Lady. He had excellent reasons to remember her. This was the illusion that Ed had created for Lord Comishvor years ago--Lady Frishville, who had so perturbed Comishvor and so enraged his wife, Lady Gootishville.
**********
tbc
