Power Play - Anne McCaffrey [90]
Sinead had followed Muktuk in and was eyeing Dinah O’Neill with a less than charitable expression on her face. She had relaxed on seeing that Yana was well enough to cling to Sean, and now she gave the shuddering Megenda her attention.
“D’you have some of Clodagh’s juice?”
Muktuk nodded. “Always keep some handy since the time it brought my brother back to life, when he fell into the fish hole that winter.”
He rummaged in one of the overhead cupboards in the kitchen corner of the house and dragged out a medium-sized brown bottle. Holding it up to the light, he twirled it, checking the level of the liquid. Satisfied, he got down a glass, poured in an exact two fingers of liquid, then handed the glass to Megenda.
“This’ll stop those shivers before you come loose at the joints.”
Megenda was evidently willing, at this point, to take anything that might reduce the chill he had taken. Grasping both edges of the fur rug in one big hand, he tossed off the contents of the glass in one gulp.
Muktuk regarded him and Megenda looked right back, sort of superciliously, until the juice made itself known down his gullet. Then his eyes bugged out, fit to pop from his head, and he gasped, exhaling, and even Bunny, on the far side of the room, recoiled as his exhalation reached her.
Dinah O’Neill looked angry. “What did you give him?”
“Just what Clodagh would have were she here,” Bunny said smugly. “You watch. It’ll clear off those shivers as if he’d swallowed a hot poker.”
Megenda, mouth still wide open, dragged in a breath as deep as the one he had just expelled, settled it in his lungs, shook his head, and stood straight and tremorless in front of the fire.
“What was in that?” he asked in a raspy voice, letting the fur drop from his shoulders. His observers could now see the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. Close as he’d stood to the fire, it hadn’t been able to warm him to sweating.
Sean grinned. “Clodagh Senungatuk makes it up for dogsled drivers to use in case of a ducking. Used it a time or two myself to good effect.”
“When you come out of the water after a good swim?” Dinah O’Neill asked with an odd smile on her lips as she regarded Sean, her head tilted to one side.
He gave her a long stare. Then he smiled back at her. “I don’t need it on those occasions, Dama. I’m in my element then.” He gestured to the table, pulled out one of the chairs, and settled Yana in it. He hadn’t let go of her hand all this while and he continued to hold it during the next discussions.
“That stuff keep its whammy long?” Dinah asked, looking respectfully at the bottle as she took a seat. When Sean nodded, she asked, “That the sort of thing Petaybee does like no other culture?”
“We have developed certain medications that are effective in this sort of climate, yes. That’s one. I doubt it would have much usage on say, a tropical world, so the general demand would be small.”
“But something that when it’s needed, there isn’t anything as efficacious?” Dinah went on.
Sean inclined his head. “Like the cough syrup that cured my wife’s”—he gave Yana such a fond look that Dinah O’Neill blinked wistfully—“cough. How is it now, dear?”
“I haven’t so much as sputtered once I got back into Petaybean air, Sean,” Yana replied, squeezing his fingers.
“No, you haven’t.” Dinah O’Neill blinked again and then frowned before she gave her head a little shake. “No, you didn’t manufacture those coughing fits.”
“No, I did not,” Yana said firmly. “I definitely did not. But I’m not going to go off-planet ever again.” And this time her free hand went to the pouch at her neck. “Not for any reason, no matter how damned important.”
“Not that Sean’d let you,” Bunny said.
“Now, Dama, what do we do?” Sean said directly to Dinah O’Neill. “Have you indeed come to seek sanctuary here from your pirate captain?”
“Actually”—now the famous O’Neill smile broke across Dinah’s pert face—“I’m here as spokesperson for Captain Louchard to discover what, ah, shall I