The doctor was gently pulling the needle out of Gail's vein. The room was silent. Even Gail sat large-eyed and solemn.
"Mrs. Crowley," Mrs. His-tara began, obviously dragging each word up with great effort, "would it be accurate to tell my son that Gail has received no hurt from him? We must, you see, prepare him for the Return Home."
Regina looked around at us and at Gail. She hadn't dared let herself look at Mrs. His-tara yet.
"Doctor!" Regina called suddenly. "Look at Gail's mouth!"
Even from where I was, I could see it. A scaly growth along both lips.
"That's a temporary effect of the serum," the doctor said. "We tried an antitoxin before we decided to change the blood. It is nothing to worry about."
"Oh."
"Mrs. Crowley," Mrs. His-tara began again, "it is much to ask, but at such a moment, much is required. If you could come yourself, and if Gail could endure to be carried...."
But Gail did, indeed, look queer, and she stretched out her arms not to her mother but to Mrs. His-tara.
"The tides," Mrs. His-tara said, "have cast us up a miracle."