"Yes, yes, I know. He can never die." Sam gave Wally a sour look. "What happens, though, if he just up and does?"
Aguar's paw came down with a clatter on the hilt of his sword. "He does not die. We have you here now. You are doctors, you say. Cure him."
They walked to the bedside and lifted back the covers. Jenkins took a limp paw in his hand. He finally found a palpable pulse just below the second elbow joint. It was fast and thready. The creature's skin bagged loosely from his arm.
"Looks like His Eminence can't read," Wally muttered. "He's going fast, Doc."
Jenkins nodded grimly. "What does it look like to you?"
"How should I know? I've never seen a healthy Moruan before, to say nothing of a sick one. It looks like a pox all right."
"Probably a viremia of some sort." Jenkins went over the great groaning hulk with inquiring fingers.
"If it's a viremia, we're cooked," Stone whispered. "None of the drugs cross over—and we won't have time to culture the stuff and grow any new ones—"