ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-THREE: The Weight
183
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“So that’s Vethedya.”
Alden was looking across the fields toward the city skyline. It was a little later in the afternoon here than it had been at Rapport I, and the sky was overcast. Other than his voice and the strikes of their boots on the packed ground, the only sound was the call of some forest dweller coming from their left. The noise was a plaintive one. His brain, trying to form connections in the new environment, suggested the unknown creature might be angry with the giant construction project going on in its wilderness.
“And what’s the yelling animal?”
It seemed better to chat as if Stuart wasn’t hurt and angry, and as if Alden himself wasn’t growing more anxious with every step.
[You’re sure this will be fine?] he texted to no one.
[It’s as I told you. Yenu-pezth exploring your thoughts in ways you haven’t agreed to isn’t impossible, but it’s very unlikely.]
I know. Breach of Contract, offending the art’hs, ethics, reputation…there are so many reasons for a good healer not to do it and so few reasons to think I’m hiding anything worth the trouble in my head. But still, I—