Dreamsnake Read Online Free PDF Page A

nourishment from him for its own growth,
poisoning him with its wastes. Holding Mist’s head, Snake let her flow across
him, touching and tasting him. She had to restrain the cobra to keep her from
striking; the excitement had agitated her. When Sand used his rattle, the
vibrations made her flinch. Snake stroked her, soothing her; trained and bred-in
responses began to return, overcoming the natural instincts. Mist paused when
her tongue flicked the skin above the tumor, and Snake released her.
    The cobra reared and struck, biting as cobras bite, sinking her fangs their
short length once, releasing, instantly biting again for a better purchase,
holding on, chewing at her prey. Stavin cried out, but he did not move against
Snake’s restraining hands.
    Mist expended the contents of her venom sacs into the child, and released
him. She reared up, peered around, folded her hood, and slid across the floor in
a perfectly straight line toward her dark, close compartment.
    “It’s done, Stavin.”
    “Will I die now?”
    “No,” Snake said. “Not now. Not for many years, I hope.” She took a vial of
powder from her belt pouch. “Open your mouth.” He complied, and she sprinkled
the powder across his tongue. “That will help the ache.” She spread a pad of
cloth across the series of shallow puncture wounds without wiping off the blood.
    She turned from him.
    “Snake? Are you going away?”
    “I won’t leave without saying good-bye. I promise.”
    The child lay back, closed his eyes, and let the drug take him.
    Sand coiled quietly on the dark felt. Snake patted the floor to call him. He
moved toward her, and suffered himself to be replaced in the satchel. Snake
closed it, and lifted it, and it still felt empty. She heard noises outside the
tent. Stavin’s parents and the people who had come to help them pulled open the
tent flap and peered inside, thrusting sticks in even before they looked.
    Snake set down her leather case. “It’s done.”
    They entered. Arevin was with them too; only he was empty-handed. “Snake—” He
spoke through grief, pity, confusion, and Snake could not tell what he believed.
He looked back. Stavin’s mother was just behind him. He took her by the
shoulder. “He would have died without her. Whatever happens now, he would have
died.”
    She shook his hand away. “He might have lived. It might have gone away. We—”
She could speak no more for hiding tears.
    Snake felt the people moving, surrounding her. Arevin took one step toward
her and stopped, and she could see he wanted her to defend herself. “Can any of
you cry?” she said. “Can any of you cry for me and my despair, or for them and
their guilt, or for small things and their pain?” She felt tears slip down her
cheeks.
    They did not understand her; they were offended by her crying. They stood
back, still afraid of her, but gathering themselves. She no longer needed the
pose of calmness she had used to deceive the child. “Ah, you fools.” Her voice
sounded brittle. “Stavin—”
    Light from the entrance struck them. “Let me pass.” The people in front of
Snake moved aside for their leader. She stopped in front of Snake, ignoring the
satchel her foot almost touched. “Will Stavin live?” Her voice was quiet, calm,
gentle.
    “I cannot be certain,” Snake said, “but I feel that he will.”
    “Leave us.” The people understood Snake’s words before they did their
leader’s; they looked around and lowered their weapons, and finally, one by one,
they moved out of the tent. Arevin remained with Snake. The strength that came
from danger seeped from her, and her knees collapsed. She bent over the satchel
with her face in her hands. The older woman knelt in front of her, before Snake
could notice or prevent her. “Thank you,” the leader said. “Thank you. I am so
sorry … ” She put her arms around Snake, and drew her
toward her, and Arevin knelt beside them, and he embraced