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.Behind him he saw an arrayof scalpels, probes, and tweezers laid out on the trolley. What are you going to do to me? Each word came out so slowly, as his tongue and lips movedsluggishly against the effects of the drug. We are going to cut into your skull to free the pressure on the part of your brain that has been giving youthese delusions, Twenty-One.You call it your  daemon. But from my extensive researches, I suspect itis the result of some injury or disease of the brain. No! Gavril cried out with all his force. The daemon is gone  You will be so much more placid when we have finished the procedure.You may feel a little pain duringthe operation but when it is done, I assure you, you will be an altered man. Baltzar s eye glintedthrough the single magnifying lens.Terror surged up from deep inside Gavril in a black, choking wave.He had heard of the technique oftrepanning and its frequently disastrous results.This self-styled doctor intended to cut into his brain.When he had finished with him, he would be no more than a drooling idiot, incapable of remembering hisown name. Help me! Gavril shouted, though he knew there was no one who could come to his aid. Help And then he felt the tip of the cold steel blade slice into his scalp.Something warm trickled down oneside of his forehead and was wiped away.They are cutting into my bead.They want to excise my daemon but all they will do is amputatemy memories, my dreams, all that goes to make me who I am.Why is there no one to help me?And now he heard the sound of a small drill boring into his skull,felt the terrible juddering as the bone resisted the bite of the metal.Until, with a sickening crunch, the tipwent right through, penetrating the soft tissue of his brain.The lantern-lit room imploded in a chaos of colored shards and dark stars.And then there was only thedarkness.LCHAPTEREvery day Andrei forced himself out onto the long expanse of empty grey sands that stretched into thedistant horizon, shrouded in sea fog.And every day he managed to walk a little farther, as his damagedbody slowly, miraculously, repaired itself.One evening, much like another, Kuzko and his adoptive son sat on either side of the fire as Irina clearedaway the remains of the fish-and-onion stew they had eaten for supper. You ll be wanting to go find your own folks soon, Kuzko said with a sigh, lighting his tobacco pipe. If only I knew where to start looking. Andrei stared into the flames. Or who they are& His name was Andrei.That much he remembered.But no more.There had been no clues in thewaterlogged shreds of clothing that had clung to his body; the sea had washed them clean of anydistinguishing marks. We know you re a sailor and we know you re from Muscobar. Kuzko drew on his pipe, letting out aslow, reflective puff of smoke. Otherwise we d have had trouble understanding each other, hm? ButMuscobar s a big country with plenty of ports up and down the coast.We re out on the farthest tip hereon Lapwing Spar.Land s end, with only the Iron Sea beyond.Far from anywhere.Nobody bothersmuch about us& and we don t bother them.Andrei frowned, concentrating his gaze on a stick, forked like a stag s horn as it glowed white-hot, andthen suddenly crumbled away to ash.His memory, like the little island, was still shrouded in impenetrable fogs.Sometimes, in dreams, he knewhe glimpsed familiar, well-loved faces and he would wake, calling out to them, arms longinglyoutstretched& only to find that the elusive memories had vanished again and he was calling out ingibberish. Now that spring s on its way, I m planning on going over to the mainland for provisions. Kuzko tappedout the tobacco dregs and reached for his pouch. Irina s been nagging me for days&  You re running out of baccy, otherwise you wouldn t bother to make the journey, would you, old man?called out Irina. Never mind whether we have enough tea for the samovar! I ll get news at the tavern, continued Kuzko, ignoring her. Now that the thaw s under way, themerchantmen ll be stopping off at Yamkha again.Any wrecks, up and down the coast, they ll know.You come along too, Andrei.Maybe someone ll recognize you there.Andrei shivered.And it seemed as if somewhere deep within his mind, a voice whispered,  No, not yet.It s too soon.& Director Baltzar looked down at his patient.Twenty-One sat slumped in a chair, staring dully ahead.Skar stood behind the chair. Twenty-One? Baltzar said crisply.The patient did not even respond to the sound of his voice. How long has he been like this, Skar? Since he came round, Director.Baltzar stroked his chin pensively. But there have been no more fits? No more shouting out? He doesn t seem too aware of anything. Any fever? Baltzar lifted the bandages around the patient s skull, exposing the blood-encrusted stitcheswhere he had sewn up the surgical incisions. A little oozing, a little pus from the wound, but it seems to be responding satisfactorily to treatment.Baltzar bent over the patient and lifted one of his eyelids.The man s pupils were dilated. Gavril Nagarian, Baltzar whispered,  can you hear me?Very far away, a voice calls his name.But he is lost, wandering along an endless grey road whereeverything is shrouded in fog andnothing is familiar.And then there is only the monotonous grinding throb in his head, a horriblesound that vibrates throughout his whole being.Lost.Never get home.Wherever home is&Never. Nagarian? echoed Skar. Is this the Azhkendi lord? The one who tried to kill the Emperor and hisdaughter? You didn t hear that! snapped Baltzar.In his desperation to elicit a response from the patient, he hadcommitted an unpardonable breach of confidentiality. Remember the contract you signed? Everythingyou witness within these four walls is to be treated with the utmost discretion. Understood. Skar nodded. But, Director, do you think the operation may have damaged him? Bynow, they usually show some sign of consciousness. Are you impugning my methods, Skar? demanded Baltzar. I hardly think it s your place, as myassistant, to question my clinical  Director. Skar pointed at Twenty-One. Look.A single tear rolled slowly down the patient s immobile face. He s crying.Andrei waded back through the shallows, the cold, brackish tide lapping against his sea boots until hestood on the bleak pebbled shore, gazing after Kuzko s boat, the Swallow, bobbing its way out acrossthe choppy waters of the Iron Sea.This was where it had happened.This was the place the lightning bolt from the rolling stormclouds hadstruck him.That sizzling flash of blue fire had restored his powers of speech but scoured his memory clean of allexcept his first name.He could have a wife and children mourning him, yet he had no recollection ofanyone but Kuzko and Irina. Why can t I remember? Andrei yelled to the distant horizon. Who am I?A bolt of lightning suddenly scored through his mind. Ahh&  Dizzy, he staggered back up the beach, one halting step at a time, until he fell to his knees,panting, clutching at his head.It was as if something within him was struggling to escape.Irina hummed to herself as she pegged her wet washing to the line.There was a good drying breezetoday, not so fierce it would tug the clean clothes from the line.The breeze would set Kuzko and theSwallow on a fair course for Yamkha and the sooner he was gone, the sooner he would return with themuch-needed supplies [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]