Truths, Lies and Bilgesnipes [Complete]

Chapter 9

Two figurines spun out of magic danced around each other, their spears at the ready. Always at the ready, but never striking out. Every time one crept close enough to make an attack someone far off in the periphery pulled the figurine back. Loki couldn't see their faces, but he knew the figurines were growing angry with their puppeteer.

He searched for the man out there in the distance and found no one, yet he knew there was someone there.

'Hello!' Loki called out. 'Where are...'

A raging wind tore his words out of his throat, but its fury was passing and as it dissipated a soft humming became audible.

'Mum?' Loki mumbled.

The humming cut off abruptly and an unfamiliar voice replied, 'Ah, no. Forgive me, your highness, I didn't mean to wake you.'

Loki scrunched up his face and forced his eyes open. Once the worst of the bleariness receded, he could just make out a woman in a trainee healer's uniform standing over his bed. Everything past her was lost to shadow.

'It's still early,' the trainee said. 'You should try to get more sleep if you can.'

Someone had tucked him in and too thoroughly at that. The blanket was so tight, the edge of it pressed against the base of his throat. With a groan, he pulled at the fabric until it gave way and he no longer felt in danger of suffocation.

Still, he didn't feel right — it was as if he watched the world through a veil of fog. They must have given him something. Loki's heart leapt in relief when he learnt he would be sedated for the surgery; he had assumed the spur remnant would have to be removed the same way the healers had dealt with the spurs the day he was originally injured. Now he wasn't so sure he ought to have been as pleased as he had been. He had a vague memory of waking up once already, but to the best of his recollection, he had drifted off again almost at once. Even keeping his eyes open was a trial at the moment.

'Do I-I...' Before the fog had set in, there had been a question — a very pressing question, but his throat was bone dry and his mind refused to produce a single coherent thought.

'Hey, it'll be all right. Your dad's just here taking a nap, I can wake him up if you'd like,' the trainee said.

'No,' Loki replied after a long pause. He tried to swallow; it physically hurt. 'No, not him, don't. But water? Please?'

'Of course, your highness.'

The healer slipped into shadow; Loki was almost lost to his dreams again by the time she returned. She propped him up and held the cup of water up to his lips. The first few sips were heavenly, clearing a lingering foul aftertaste in his mouth and soothing the dryness in his throat. It was so much effort though. Loki drank about half a cup and then slumped back onto the mattress.

The trainee healer pulled his blanket back up to his shoulders. 'Why don't you close your eyes now and try to relax, your highness. You need to rest.'

It was late afternoon by the time Loki stopped drifting in and out of consciousness. Rubbing at his eyes in a vain attempt to shake the lingering wooziness, he pulled himself up until he sat with his back rested against the headboard of his bed. He was in the children's ward this time — he recognised the cutesy drawings painted onto the walls. At least none of the other beds in the room were occupied; he was in no mood for making conversation.

Life, however, wasn't fair and he had all of a minute to himself before Eir walked into the room with a lidded cup in her hands. Eir looked about as weary as Loki felt. She set the cup down on Loki's bedside table, then pulled up a chair over to his bed.