Wounds and cuts on his arms and a breast burned, and Lance felt blood flows on a stomach, in a disgusting way tickling skin. There was a commotion in the temple, a glow of fire blazed on the horizon, and cries were heard. The guardsmen — these children of varying degrees of stupidity, naivety and cruelty — tried to take control of the situation, but after this poor little fool Naytili stabbed their holy Erica, everything seemed to have lost all reason.
Well, that was in his favor.
The window of Sakis’s room was on the ground floor, but when he climbed into it, the wounds responded with acute pain, so Lance almost fell from the window sill to the floor. Sakis sat on the bed in total darkness, wary, like a small beast. She turned around, and Lance saw terrible bruises under her eyes and still bloodless lips that bore the stamp of a recent illness.
Sakis turned on the top light and sighed devastated when she saw Lance's wounds. She was not surprised — from what? he earlier it came to her more crippled after some Leftan's tasks, — but her seemed so tired, as if she was much more than incomplete twenty years.
He quickly slid to her on the bed, pressed to itself with tenderness unusual for it, and Sakis squeezed his shoulders, not paying attention that blood was staining her shirt and belt.
“It's all right, girl,” Lance whispered, wheezing like a hanged man. - “All is well. Naytili didn't suffer, and I will recover.”
Her lips were dry and cold, but he knew he could fix it.
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