The Sky Is Falling | Page 5

he seemed
to be fighting desperately to keep from falling apart painfully within himself.
When he was awake, the girl was always beside him. He learned that her name was Nema.
Usually there was also the stout figure of Ser Perth. Sometimes he saw Sather Karf or
some other older man working with strange equipment, or with things that looked like
familiar hypodermics and medical equipment. Once they had an iron lung around him
and there was a thin wisp over his face.
He started to brush it aside, but Nema's hand restrained him. "Don't disturb the sylph,"
she ordered.
Another semirational period occurred during some excitement or danger that centered
around him. He was still half delirious, but he could see men working frantically to build
a net of something around his bed, while a wet, thick thing flopped and drooled beyond
the door, apparently immune to the attacks of the hospital staff. There were shouting
orders involving the undine. The salamander in Dave's chest crept deeper and seemed to
bleat at each cry of the monstrous thing beyond the door.
Sather Karf sat hunched over what seemed to be a bowl of water, paying no attention to
the struggle. Something that he seemed to see there held his attention. Then he screamed
suddenly.
"The Sons of the Egg. It's their sending!"
He reached for a brazier beside him, caught up the fire and plunged it deep into the bowl
of water, screaming something. There was the sound of an explosion from far away as he
drew his hands out, unwet by the water. Abruptly the undine began a slow retreat. In
Dave's chest, the salamander began purring again, and he drifted back into his coma.
He tried to ask Nema about it later when she was feeding him, but she brushed it aside.
"An orderly let out the news that you are here," she said. "But don't worry. We've sent out
a doppelganger to fool the Sons, and the orderly has been sentenced to slavery under the

pyramid builder for twenty lifetimes. I hate my brother! How dare he fight us with the
sky falling?"
Later, the delirium seemed to pass completely, but Dave took no comfort from that. In its
place came a feeling of gloom and apathy. He slept most of the time, as if not daring to
use his little strength even to think.
Ser Perth stayed near him most of the time now. The man was obviously worried, but
tried not to show it. "We've managed to get some testosterone from a blond homunculus,"
he reported. "That should put you on your feet in no time. Don't worry, young man we'll
keep you vivified somehow until the Sign changes." But he didn't sound convincing.
"Everyone is chanting for you," Nema told him. "All over the world, the chants go up."
It meant nothing to him, but it sounded friendly. A whole world hoping for him to get
well! He cheered up a bit at that until he found out that the chants were compulsory, and
had nothing to do with goodwill.
The iron lung was back the next time he came to, and he was being tugged toward it. He
noticed this time that there was no sylph, and his breathing seemed to be no worse than
usual. But the sight of the two orderlies and the man in medical uniform beside the lung
reassured him. Whatever their methods, he was convinced that they were doing their best
for him here.
He tried to help them get him into the lung, and one of the men nodded encouragingly.
But Dave was too weak to give much assistance. He glanced about for Nema, but she was
out on one of her infrequent other duties. He sighed, wishing desperately that she were
with him. She was a lot more proficient than the orderlies.
The man in medical robe turned toward him sharply. "Stop that!" he ordered.
Before Dave could ask what he was to stop, Nema came rushing into the room. Her face
paled as she saw the three men, and she gasped, throwing up her hand in a protective
gesture.
The two orderlies jumped for her, one grabbing her and the other closing his hands over
her mouth. She struggled violently, but the men were too strong for her.
The man in doctor's robes shoved the iron lung aside violently and reached into his
clothing. From it, he drew a strange, double-bladed knife. He swung toward Dave, raising
the knife into striking position and aiming it at Dave's heart.
"The Egg breaks," he intoned hollowly. It was a cultured voice, and there was a
refinement to his face that registered on Dave's mind even over the horror of the weapon.
"The fools cannot hold the shell.