Page 105
Story: The Mask Falling
“Warden. How mysterious.” Cordier smiled, then started to remove equipment from the case. “How did you two come to be . . . associates?”
“Long story.” With difficulty, I shifted upright. “You met when I was in the Hôtel Garuche, did you?”
“Briefly,” Arcturus said.
“Yes, we didn’t have much time to speak. I hope we can remedy that,” Cordier said lightly. “We work under such pressure in Mannequin. It’s important to foster good relations.”
Arcturus inclined his head to her, and her smile deepened. A strange feeling winged through my stomach as she took a bottle of antiseptic from her bag.
I had never seen anyone try to flirt with a Rephaite. He could flirt right back at her if he liked. It was no business of mine.
“I need to do one more scan,” Cordier said to me, rubbing the gel between her hands. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
Arcturus caught my eye, and I nodded. I wanted him to stay.
Cordier had me sit on a dining chair and remove my shirt again. After snapping on a pair of gloves, she slathered my back in something cold and rolled a scanner across it. After a while, she put it down.
“Good.” She wiped the gel off my back and delved into her bag again. “I have a course of antibiotics for the pneumonia, but I can relieve some of your symptoms now by draining the effusion. It’s a short procedure where I’d have to insert a needle between your ribs. You’ll be a little bit uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Can’t remember the last time I wasn’t a little bit uncomfortable.”
Cordier chuckled. “All right. Lean forward on the table for me, so I can reach your back.” I folded my arms on it. “Perfect.”
I decided not to look too hard at her equipment. A chill dab of antiseptic came first, then a sting and a throb as she injected the numbing agent. The edge of the table dug into my ribs. Arcturus brought me a cushion, which I slid between me and the table, before he took the seat opposite.
Cordier hummed spryly as she worked. Even though my back was numb, I grimaced when the pressure started. It was like she had pulled a plug from my back. I fought the sudden urge to cough again.
Arcturus offered a hand. I grasped it and squeezed until I was afraid I would crush his fingers. I was light-headed by the time Cordier said, “Needle out.” A rustle of movement. “Let me put a dressing on the puncture.”
She wrapped a bandage around my middle to hold the dressing in place, then came to sit beside me and placed two glass bottles on the table. They were full of something that looked horribly like melted butter.
“There,” she said, with an air of satisfaction.
“Lovely.” I had a strong stomach, but those bottles turned it. “All that was in my lung?”
“All lungs contain pleural fluid. You just had too much.”
She slotted both bottles into her bag and listened to my breathing again. Whatever the outcome, she looked content, and set about packing the last of her equipment away.
“Breathing and speaking should be much easier now. Change the dressing every few days, take it easy, and please, drink.” She patted the briefcase. “Medicine for the pneumonia. Everything you need is in here, including dosage instructions. Don’t miss a dose.”
“Thanks so much,” I said.
“Just doing my job.” She took a folded piece of paper from her pocket and slid it across the table to Arcturus. “My current number, if you need anything. Ducos will visit soon.”
She stepped into her shoes, picked up her bag and coat, and was gone. Arcturus looked intently at my face.
“How do you feel?”
I plucked up my courage and took the deepest breath I dared. There was still a stab of discomfort in my chest, but now it was as if the knife was wrapped in several layers of cloth.
“Better.” My exhalation turned into a sigh of relief. “Not perfect, but better.”
“Good.”
“Which means,” I went on, “that I’m fine on my own for a bit. You have to find the perdues now, before someone else does.” I reached for my nightshirt. “You need aura, too.”
“Long story.” With difficulty, I shifted upright. “You met when I was in the Hôtel Garuche, did you?”
“Briefly,” Arcturus said.
“Yes, we didn’t have much time to speak. I hope we can remedy that,” Cordier said lightly. “We work under such pressure in Mannequin. It’s important to foster good relations.”
Arcturus inclined his head to her, and her smile deepened. A strange feeling winged through my stomach as she took a bottle of antiseptic from her bag.
I had never seen anyone try to flirt with a Rephaite. He could flirt right back at her if he liked. It was no business of mine.
“I need to do one more scan,” Cordier said to me, rubbing the gel between her hands. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
Arcturus caught my eye, and I nodded. I wanted him to stay.
Cordier had me sit on a dining chair and remove my shirt again. After snapping on a pair of gloves, she slathered my back in something cold and rolled a scanner across it. After a while, she put it down.
“Good.” She wiped the gel off my back and delved into her bag again. “I have a course of antibiotics for the pneumonia, but I can relieve some of your symptoms now by draining the effusion. It’s a short procedure where I’d have to insert a needle between your ribs. You’ll be a little bit uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Can’t remember the last time I wasn’t a little bit uncomfortable.”
Cordier chuckled. “All right. Lean forward on the table for me, so I can reach your back.” I folded my arms on it. “Perfect.”
I decided not to look too hard at her equipment. A chill dab of antiseptic came first, then a sting and a throb as she injected the numbing agent. The edge of the table dug into my ribs. Arcturus brought me a cushion, which I slid between me and the table, before he took the seat opposite.
Cordier hummed spryly as she worked. Even though my back was numb, I grimaced when the pressure started. It was like she had pulled a plug from my back. I fought the sudden urge to cough again.
Arcturus offered a hand. I grasped it and squeezed until I was afraid I would crush his fingers. I was light-headed by the time Cordier said, “Needle out.” A rustle of movement. “Let me put a dressing on the puncture.”
She wrapped a bandage around my middle to hold the dressing in place, then came to sit beside me and placed two glass bottles on the table. They were full of something that looked horribly like melted butter.
“There,” she said, with an air of satisfaction.
“Lovely.” I had a strong stomach, but those bottles turned it. “All that was in my lung?”
“All lungs contain pleural fluid. You just had too much.”
She slotted both bottles into her bag and listened to my breathing again. Whatever the outcome, she looked content, and set about packing the last of her equipment away.
“Breathing and speaking should be much easier now. Change the dressing every few days, take it easy, and please, drink.” She patted the briefcase. “Medicine for the pneumonia. Everything you need is in here, including dosage instructions. Don’t miss a dose.”
“Thanks so much,” I said.
“Just doing my job.” She took a folded piece of paper from her pocket and slid it across the table to Arcturus. “My current number, if you need anything. Ducos will visit soon.”
She stepped into her shoes, picked up her bag and coat, and was gone. Arcturus looked intently at my face.
“How do you feel?”
I plucked up my courage and took the deepest breath I dared. There was still a stab of discomfort in my chest, but now it was as if the knife was wrapped in several layers of cloth.
“Better.” My exhalation turned into a sigh of relief. “Not perfect, but better.”
“Good.”
“Which means,” I went on, “that I’m fine on my own for a bit. You have to find the perdues now, before someone else does.” I reached for my nightshirt. “You need aura, too.”
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