The Devil's Heart - Carmen Carter [60]
“There’s someone at the south door asking to see the healer in charge of n ew admissions.”
Telev laughed at the absurdity of such a formal request. Admissions procedures had collapsed when the healers themselves began to sicken and die.
“Well, I tried to explain how it is,” said Sathev wearily. “But she was very insistent.”
“Do not bother yourself further. I shall deal with it.”
Some people, reflected Telev as he shuffled his way to the portal, had a remarkable ability to deny reality. The world they had all known was rotting away, yet they clung stubbornly to the old ways.
A woman and two men were waiting for him at the south entrance. At their feet lay a body wrapped in stained laying cloths; he would have mistaken the unmoving bundle for a corpse if not for the sound of a muffled groan.
“I am Viloff,” said the woman, and lifted a lantern up to show her face. She was dressed in a nondescript tunic made from the sturdy cloth favored by the craft-trades, but her bearing was not that of a common worker; rather she held herself alert and erect, with one arm swung loosely by her side where it could reach up to her belt knife.
“We need a room for our friend. He is very ill.”
“We have no rooms, but in an hour or so we may have a cot.”
“That will not do. He needs privacy. Now.”
He saw her weight shift ever so slightly as her hand fluttered upward toward the weapon.
“You can gut me here on the steps, but that will not gain you any space inside; it will simply make a mess.”
“Enough!” she said. “Take me to your superior.”
That placed her and her silent companions without question.
“What is your rank, Viloff?” asked the healer.
“You see too much, old man.”
“And you are a foolish young woman, even if you are a soldier.” Telev rubbed his hands to ease the stiffness in his finger joints. “There are no other healers. I am the last one.”
“The last one …” she echoed. Her bravado collapsed like a leaking water-skin. “I was Subcommander Viloff last week, but for all I know now, I could be a battalion admiral. The plague hit the camps last month, and then there was an attack … we’ve traveled for two days without seeing another officer.”
“Bring your friend into the wards,” said Telev, impatient to escape the cold air. “I will care for him.”
Viloff shook her head, danced a few steps of indecision, then grabbed his sleeve, dragging him over to the bundle. Bending down, she drew aside a fold of cloth.
Telev saw enough in the circle of lantern light to grant her demand.
“You can use my room,” he said, beckoning them inside the hospice.
Viloff’s two subordinates hoisted up the awkward bundle, ignoring a new spate of groans that issued forth, and followed the healer to the closet. There wasn’t enough room for the entire group, but the men seemed eager to leave the matter to their commander; they stepped back into the corridor and stood like sentinels on either side of the door.
Viloff set the lamp on a high shelf.
Telev crouched down by the pallet andwitha trembling hand pulled away the rough covers. He had taken the damp patches for blood until he saw their deep green color.
“Where did you find …” He had no words to describe what lay before him.
“We were attacked,” said Viloff. “In flying ships that rival anything to be found on Andor. Our offensive weapons had no effect on them; in a matter of hours they laid waste to our forces in the western province. Then, as if by a miracle, their defensive shields seemed to collapse and one by one we were able to pick them off. I searched the wreckage, but this was the only survivor.”
By now, the healer had completely unwrapped the alien creature. Even without a healthy specimen for comparison, it was obvious that its legs were broken; the skin covering its midsection was lacerated, the underlying muscles and organs torn and bleeding; scrapes and bruises covered the rest of its torso and arms.
“Ugly creatures,