第44节

In spite of such dire prospects Steve began to find that his anxiety

was fading. The pain from the broken parts of his body was also

gradually easing. He felt agreeably lightheaded; weightless; could no

longer feel the ground beneath him. He didn't feel like struggling any

more. He just lay back and let himself float.

Cadillac let go of the cloud-warrior's head. He sat back on his heels

and watched Mr Snow carefully unwrap the bandage on his patient's right

arm. He peeled off a mash of red leaves and examined the raw, gaping

wound. 'Hmmphh ... he's lucky it was one of your bolts. If it hadn't

been clean..."

'Is it bad?" asked Steve, in a faraway voice.

'It'll take a while to heal, but it's clean. Whether or not you'll

recover the full use of your arm is up to you but at least you'll have

something to hang your right hand on. Okay...

hold still." Mr Snow used a sliver of wood to poke a fresh mash made

from pulped herbs into both ends of the hole and bound up the wound.

Steve eyed the straight-limbed Mute. His attention was fixed on what

the old guy was doing. Steve looked back over his head and saw, to his

right, a yellow flame flickering in a small hollowed-out stone. He

took closer stock of his surroundings. The three of them were in a low

eight-sided hut made out of wood and what he presumed were animal

skins. The light poles that edged each panel curved over some five

feet off the ground and sloped inwards to meet its neighbours in the

centre of the shallow pitched roof. The poles fitted into a wooden

ring which was open in the centre and was evidently some type of flue;

no doubt to provide badly-needed ventilation. There were a number of

untidy bundles and baskets piled round the inside edge but nothing that

Steve could recognise as furniture. Compared with the ordered,

antiseptic layout of his shack on the quarterdeck of the Academy the

hut was, frankly, a mess.

Steve could hear voices and sounds of activity coming from outside the

hut. And music of a kind he had never heard before but which recalled

the wind whips used in the attack on The Lady. It had a strange,

haunting quality that reached deep into his psyche, evoking a troubling

response.

He turned his attention back onto the young Mute kneeling by his left

side and noticed that he only had four fingers and one thumb on each

hand. Steve's mood was too detached to ponder deeply on the

significance of this discovery but it occurred to him that, apart from

his long hair, the only physical feature that distinguished the Mute

from himself-or any other Tracker - was the random pattern of black,

brown, dark-cream and olive-pink that covered his skin.

The old, white-haired, bearded Mute was a true six-fingered lumphead

with an uneven row oftumour-like bone growths across his forehead. His

vari-coloured skin was further disfigured by strange knotted patches on

his arms and cheekbones but, contrary to what Steve had been led to

expect, the old Mute's eyes sparkled with intelligence - as did those

of his young companion.

'What's wrong with the rest of me?asked Steve, as the old Mute

completed his skilled inspection of Steve's injuries.

'You've got a simple fracture of the left shin-bone, a badly sprained

ankle, at least three cracked ribs, severe bruising of the left

shoulder and a slight dent in your skull. You may have what used to be

called a hairline fracture. In the Old Time, there were things for

looking through bones but they don't exist anymore."

'X-ray machines,' said Steve.

The old Mute nodded. 'Is that what they were called?"

'They still are,' replied Steve. 'All the medical centres of the

Federation have them. We've got all kinds of electronic scanning

equipment."

'I see, well, you're going to have to get by without all that,' said Mr

Snow. 'Not to worry. Your brain's still in one piece."

Steve lay on the furs, his body limp, unresisting. 'Feels like it's

leaking out of my ears."

'That's the Dream Cap,' said Mr Snow. 'It's good stuff.

Helps you to loosen up."

Steve nodded. 'We have pain killers too. Small pills called Cloud

Nines."

Cadillac looked surprised. 'You have clouds in your burrows?"

'No, of course not. Clouds are part of the blue-sky world.

And let's get one thing straight. We don't live in burro