Through the roaring in his ears, Pehn heard the Healer kneel on the rock floor beside him; then he felt Bidagha's strong fingers on his shoulder.
"How is it with you, my son?"
Pehn groaned, unable to speak. The pain was not alleviated—it was greater then ever.
The soles of Bidagha's sandals scraped as he stood up again.
"Bring knife!" he called.
In his roaring darkness, Pehn stirred. Vaguely he sensed the murmuring of the watchers. Then someone else came near, and Bidagha's voice rose again. "Immortals, bless knife!"
Fingers pried open his jaw, probed at the misshapen gum, sending fiery flashes of agony into his brain. Then a hard edge of pain struck, cutting, releasing a flood of warm wetness in his mouth. Yet it all seemed to be happening far away.
He sensed Bidagha bending near once more. "Boy is going fast. Infection is deep."
Another voice: "Move him to experimental hospital?"
"He would not live to get there." A pause. "Go, bring forceps and bone knives. Hurry."