"Borysko -- I'm not strong enough -- I can't carry you. I'll be back with the healer. Puss'puss, you keep him company."

Borysko had gone far, and felt all of himself spent, just like he was about to fall asleep. He could not have heard Drakon's assurance where he had gone, but he did hear in the place that seemed to be dream the metallic clickings of a little sidegate lock unlocking -- as if by magic. Dreams always were like this: magical.

In this dream, Borysko stood at ease by that bed upstairs in the Pig and Bee. The candleglass guttered, as if very near a breeze, and tossed wild shadows afraid of its small light. He had tied to that bed something dangerous he was sure -- and he wasn't sure what it was -- however he was sure his knottings would hold.

Celebrating it, that he'd captured the dangerous something, he drank fully the sweetest ale, drained the tankard. The tankard gleamed, silver like moonshine. He regarded with swelling contentment the tankard filling again in his hand, the golden nectar swirling and rising from the bottom. By magic, certainly -- and this was magic that for once served him -- so it gladdened him.

Then the thing tied down on the bed spoke to him -- instantly rankling him -- that Vagari woman mocking -- filling him with righteously murderous hate -- "How like you my kiss, Bear Hunter? Had you played along, you would not now be so lost. They, perhaps, can save you yet, but none of their healing can cure you. Never again as strong -- So very sad! You had only to play along, to take me to the beargirl. But think no more on her too, for now I have your boy."

RATE THIS BRANCH!