Weaveworld

2

To those who were tending him, he seemed simply to be resting; at least at first. They let him sleep, in the belief that he’d wake healed. His pulse was strong, his bones unbroken. All he needed was time to recover his strength.

But when he woke the following afternoon, in Gluck’s house, it was immediately clear that something was profoundly amiss. His eyes opened, but Cal was not in them. His gaze was devoid of recognition or response. It and he were as blank as an empty page.

Suzanna couldn’t know – none of them could – what he’d shared with Uriel during their confrontation, but she could make an educated guess. If her experience of the menstruum had taught her anything it was that every exchange was a two-way street. Cal had conspired with Immacolata’s jacket to give Uriel its vision, but what had the lunatic spirit given him in return?

When, after two days, there was no sign of improvement in his state, they called in expert help, but though the doctors exhausted their tests on him they could find nothing physiologically wrong. This was not a coma, they ventured, so much as a trance; and they knew no precedent for it, except perhaps sleepwalking. One of their number even went so far as to suggest the condition might be self-induced, a possibility Suzanna did not entirely dismiss.

There were no reasons they could find, they finally announced, as to why the patient wasn’t up and awake and living a healthy life. There are plenty of reasons, Suzanna thought, but none that she could begin to explain. Perhaps he had simply seen too much; and the surfeit had left him indifferent to being.