Darkvision - Bruce R. Cordell [65]
And why not? She had so many questions she knew would never be answered. What was she accomplishing in the day-to-day existence she endured-what greater good was being served? Her dream of rediscovering ancient Imaskaran sites seemed childish, and its appeal faded as she turned over that desire in her graying thoughts. She mentally reached back toward her youth, trying to find the spark of excitement that usually accompanied thoughts of her search, and failed to find any. Was that dream just a convenient fiction she told herself? Was she actually laboring through each day to "get by, get through?"
If she survived this night, all that lay ahead of her was day after plodding day of more of the same, a hollow husk of what her hopes had promised.
The magnificence of the sparkling stars called to her more insistently.
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. It was a blunt, harsh, banal life she lived. Now was her chance to end the strife, the uncertainty, the little defeats and pains that so plagued and disillusioned her. And she was suddenly so cold.
"Drink this," a voice urged. Liquid poured into her mouth. Ususi coughed, turned her head, and spit it up. She wasn't going to give in to salvation that easily. The liquid tasted like tangerine, light, clean, and fresh. It was a pleasant taste, but she fought the urge to enjoy it. She wanted the lonely stars back.
A strong hand held her chin, and another infusion of liquid trickled down her throat. This time, when she tried to spit it up, a hand massaged her neck and she involuntarily swallowed the potion.
The call of oblivion faded slightly. Strength grew in her arms, legs, and core. The cool splendor of the night transformed into a cloudy, rainy evening on the rough planking of a sea-tossed ship. Where were the tiny points of light that offered her their cosmic embrace?
Sorrow clutched her, and tears began streaming down the wizard's cheeks.
"Don't cry," said the vengeance taker, misunderstanding her tears. "You'll be all right."
She nodded. Her raveled will began to reassemble as the mortality of her grievous wound receded. Her emotional transcendence had been a physical response to death's nearness-her body had foreseen finality, and attempted to ready her for the end. So she supposed…
Life had been poured rudely back into her, but her memory of death's acceptance lurked. The knowledge that she did not fear death stood in the shadows of her consciousness, like a lover she would miss, but whom she was certain to meet again one day. Until then, though…
Ususi grabbed one of her rescuer's hands, squeezed, and said, "Thank you, Iahn. You've saved me." She wondered if her words were true.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Warian couldn't sleep. His mind kept returning to Uncle Zel revealing himself as a stowaway. His uncle's words buzzed and rattled around his brain, enhancing his anxiety the longer he considered them. His uncle's terrific snores weren't helping. Only Warian knew Zel rode Stormsailer, so of course, his uncle stayed hidden in his cabin.
The snores had been light and breathy at first, soundless enough that Warian could almost ignore them. Before long, the snores began to thunder. On more than one occasion, Warian rose from his bed to glare down at his uncle who lay on his back, mouth ajar. When he pushed Zel onto his side, the snoring eased. But the relief was temporary. A short time later, a snorting cough woke Warian from a drowse. Zel had rolled back to his preferred position. It was no wonder the man had never taken a wife.
Eventually, Warian constructed a tent of three pillows across his head. With two standing on edge on either side of his head, and one lying across the pair, the down stuffing helped deaden the noise of Zel's obstructed