CHAPTER 34
Dennis saw faces in the nightmare world of the following hours. Aria came to him—and Conall; Selda sponged his forehead while King Hale talked earnestly about kingship and necessity...
Serdic's fungoid sneer gibbered behind them.
Then the fever broke and Dennis awakened to reality. Chester was half supporting his torso so that another tentacle could hold a cup of soup to Dennis' mouth.
"Oh!" the youth said. His eyes were prepared for the brightness, but his conscious brain had been existing in a dim netherworld for...
He swallowed soup, then asked, "How long have I slept? Is it morning?"
"It is morning, Dennis," the robot said. "And it is two nights and a day that you have slept."
"Oh!" Dennis repeated.
"The wise and goodly man may come close to death and yet survive," Chester quoted, "because of his goodness."
"I can't claim that," the youth muttered. He rotated his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The fever which purged his body had left deep aches in all his muscles.
He balanced for a moment, weak and light-headed from the pain. But it was an overpowering thrill to be able to move after hours that were lifetimes in his dreams...
In dreams he had no control, neither over himself nor over the other inhabitants of nightmare. Reality had real pain, but he could move; and—
The Founder's Sword leaned against the wall beside the bed.
Dennis slipped it out of its sheath. The weight and balance of the weapon brought memories of Malbawn. The stress, instead of doubling Dennis over with cramped muscles, returned him to strength and suppleness as the hormones of battle leaked back into his system.
In the waking world, Dennis could affect those around him—no matter how terrifying their form.
He was wearing a nightgown of slick fabric, but there were other clothes ready in the cabinet. He'd finished dressing—slacks and a tunic of blue, slashed diagonally with orange—and the sword belted around his waist, when the wall opened into a door.
"Oh!" said King Conall. "You're, ah, recovered."
His daughter stood behind him, looking cool in a dress of the same yellow-white as her hair. There was no emotion in her eyes as they looked at Dennis.
He'd been delirious with fever. The fever had brought fanciful imaginings...
"I am recovered enough to go out with your cattle, your highness," Dennis croaked. His vocal cords were as stiff as all his other muscles.
Conall blinked. Aria looked as though Dennis had slapped her.
"Ah, that isn't really necessary..." the king muttered.
"But it is necessary to me, King Conall," Dennis said in a tone that even to him seemed to be rising toward madness. "For I undertook as my duty that I should be your cattle-guard and on my honor, King Conall, I will do that thing. You would have none in Rakastava but honorable men, surely?"
"Yes, yes, of course," Conall muttered, turning his face down and away. "Well, in that case—"
"Since you are recovered and able to make your own decisions, Prince Dennis," said Aria sharply, "then you are welcome to the hospitality of Rakastava—and we are pleased to have your company."
Dennis bowed stiffly.
"There is no further agreement between us, Prince Dennis," the princess continued. She was on the verge of tears. The hard set of her face was the crust above a pool of flaming lava. "None! If you choose to go to the forest, then only your own will sends you there!"
Dennis bowed again. "If your highness—" he said to Conall, who was gaping at his daughter, "—and you, milady, will forgive me, I'm already behind the herd by some hours. Come along, Chester."
"The fool who is in the right, Dennis," Chester murmured as he followed his master, "is more annoying than the one who has wronged him."