WebMage Read Online Free PDF

banter helped keep my mind off how close I'd just come to dying.
    "Gosh, Boss, you're all heart."
    "I'm glad you think so, because I'm about to put you back to work."
    "I can hardly wait," he replied.
    "Your enthusiasm overwhelms me. First, let me see that finger." He gave me his hand, and I taped up the finger. "Good. Melchior, Root Access, authorization code—Antigone."
    "Root Access granted."
    "Lefthand/pinkiefinger/1stknuckle.source," I said, "Terminate Signal. Initiate Recovery Cycle. Run Command, Run Command. Root Exit."
    "Exiting Root. Returning to normal operation." He let out a long sigh, and the tension visibly drained out of him. "Oh yeah! Thanks, Boss."
    "You're welcome. It doesn't give you your fingertip back, but it'll kill the pain and stop the bleeding. When we have a little leisure and mainframe access, I'll write you a new one. I wish we could fix mine as easily."
    The pain, which seemed to have held itself in abeyance until that moment, returned then, as though speaking of the injury had conjured it up. My finger wasn't alone. I had an arrow crease, a couple of cracked ribs, and a myriad of lesser strains and bruises. But it was the horrible throbbing of my right knee that led the rapidly rising symphony of agony. The scary thing was I was still pretty shocky. I didn't want to think about how bad I'd be hurting once I came out of it.
    "Let's move this along. Melchior, Better Living Through Chemistry. Execute."
    "Executing."
    The webgoblin's right index claw lengthened and sharpened, shaping itself into a hypodermic needle. While he was doing that I unzipped the left wrist seal of my jacket and pulled it up, baring the flesh beneath. When I was ready, Melchior formed his hand into a gun and jabbed the claw into the exposed vein. Then he brought his thumb down, sending morphine shooting into my bloodstream. The dose was insanely high, enough to kill a human, and within seconds I could feel it taking hold.
    "Much better, Mel. I might even live through the next step." The drug pulsed through my system, moving to the rhythm of my heart. It felt like liquid nitrogen, freezing out sensation. With each beat the cool relief slid a little farther through my veins. "You'll have to open my pants from ankle to hip. Then I'll need a splint."
    Some jarring was inevitable while he dealt with the seams. I closed my eyes and let the morphine carry me away to a place where everything was quiet bliss. It was also pink. Not my favorite color, but I didn't feel like arguing. I'm not sure what pulled my awareness back to the place I'd left my body, but when I opened my eyes I found that my leg had been straightened out. I was glad to have missed that bit.
    Mel sat on the grass beside my head, watching curiously as a short, gnarled woman with extremely broad shoulders arranged long strips of dried sinew and some old bicycle spokes around my leg. I was about to ask who she was when she pulled the bindings tight. Even through the morphine it felt like someone had placed my knee in an electric pencil sharpener. I decided everything had been better when it was pink and went away again.
    I surfaced later in darkness. I lay on a low futon that had seen better days. A faint smell of old dust and mildew flavored the still air. I'd barely stirred before Mel appeared, a small wooden bowl clutched in his hands.
    "Here, Boss. Drink this. The troll says it'll help with the pain."
    "The troll?" I sat bolt upright, adrenaline overriding pain.
    "Calm down," Melchior said. "Ahllan's not that kind of troll. She's a vegetarian."
    "Where did you find a vegetarian troll healer?" I said, beginning to relax.
    "We're under the hill in the picture. She made the beer-can faerie ring. We're an awfully long way from the primary course of reality. It's a weird version of faerie, oriented around the detritus of urban sprawl and pollution instead of sylvan idyllicism. I don't know what goes on in the head of the artist who painted this gate, but I'd rather not