“I’ll be up later,” he told her and she kissed him again. Then she went to bed.
How long he sat there he had no way of knowing, but the fire was steadily dying. The thoughts hammered in his head and he became lost in them, trying mentally to find the key that would tear away the veil and grant him a peek at his past. Bits and snatches had filtered through, garbled and incoherent, that had tried to shed light yet could not. And, while he leaned toward one conclusion, drawn from the dreams, he felt it too fantastic for belief.
He was so absorbed in his thinking that he never heard the door open slowly. When he did hear the soft tread behind him, it was too late! A handkerchief of chloroform was clamped strongly over his face! He struggled, trying to get away from the hands that held him, but he was powerless! The chloroform got to him. He couldn’t breathe...
He slept.
[p97]
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The ship came to rest upon a flat, ochre colored plain beside a brilliant white city encased in thick, heavy walls. There was a dull pain in his head and fire in his leg, but he was alive. He lay limply upon the bed while Firstspacer Narvi plied him with honeywine to dull the pain.
He grinned, studying the blond giant’s warm, friendly face. He was among friends; the tall, yellow eyed Thistians had failed to kill him and Narvi had whisked him away into the violet sky.
“Thought we’d lost you, Lors,” Narvi grinned. “You almost did,” he replied, choking on the Thista honeywine. “Haven’t you anything else, something from Darkkan?”
“Sorry, friend,” Narvi grinned, “but you can be glad to get this. The 36th Command has been drinking up even this stuff. I’ll see you later, in the hospital.”
“All right, Narvi.” The big man started away, but Lors stopped him by grabbing his blue sleeve. “Narvi?”