Juryokine

Chapter Twenty Four

"Take it easy, Toke," a familiar voice said as the young man began to drift back to consciousness. He was sure he knew that voice from somewhere, but it was warped by the aching throb in his head.

With a groan, he opened his eyes, and the lights above him awoke a new explosion of pain in his skull. In the split second he'd had them open, he had seen a room with faded gray wallpaper. It wasn't enough to tell him where he was, though.

"You have a concussion," the voice spoke up again. "Lie there and don't move."

His head was clearing, despite the lingering pain, and Toke could discern a couple details about whoever was speaking. It was a man's voice, a grown man. That ruled out Zashiel, naturally. He remembered the string of events leading up to him being knocked out. Wayli in the hospital, chasing the Nail, taking on the entire gang... killing Permissor Adal's son.

I didn't kill him, Toke told himself, fighting off the initial wave of guilt. He killed himself.

That didn't solve the mystery of where he was now, though. After he'd fallen off the building with Lampa, he had seen somebody, hadn't he? That meant that whoever it was must have been there, watching the entire time. His first thought went to the police, and then, even worse, to Klevon. But that couldn't be right either. Klevon wanted the Juryokine dead, and the police thought he was an assassin— an assumption probably not helped by the fact that Lampa was now dead. Toke was lying on a table that had, if he wasn't mistaken, been covered with sheets and a pillow to be more comfortable for him. So, if it wasn't Klevon or the police, then who...

"Sit up, Toke," the voice interrupted his thoughts. "I need to check your wound."

Toke... Whoever this was, he knew his name. Unable to resist anymore, he forced his eyes open, ignoring the blinding light, and sat up.

"Don't move so quickly," said the last man on Fissura he'd expected to see in front of him. "You'll only make it worse."

"Professor Navras," Toke gasped, and almost passed out again from the shock. The old man's hand shot out and caught his shoulder, keeping him from falling backwards and hurting his head more.

"Yes," Navras said, his face grave, "and I'm afraid you have a lot of explaining to do, Cassitoka."

For once, being called by his full name seemed like the least of Toke's problems.

"I'm not an assassin, sir," he said, even as the professor began to dab salve onto a bump on his head. "I was just spying on Permissor Adal, not..." he paused when he saw the look on Navras' face. "That's not much better, is it?"

"I'm afraid not," Navras agreed, and took a step back. "You're lucky I was the first one to find you out there, and not a police officer."

A thought occurred to Toke. "Why were you the first one to find me, sir?"

"Because I followed you," the old inventor said, going to a sink by the wall to wash the salve off his hands. "After what happened in the hospital, I was worried that you would try to do something reckless. As it turns out, I was right to be worried. What on earth were you trying to do, Toke?"

Toke swung his legs out over the table and took a quick look around. The room looked like a small office, with a desk in the far corner and several pictures and memorabilia hanging from the wall.

"Trying to take out the Nails," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"A noble cause if I've ever heard one," Navras said, wryly. "But hardly the responsibility of a twenty year old inventor student, is it?"