doctor. How do you feel?"

"Better than I would've thought possible when the warrior Garvey found me," Dana said. "Thanks for everything you've done for me."

"My pleasure," the w'woman said. "Fortunately you were found before your attackers did anything life-threatening to you, though some of your injuries could be classified as moderately serious for a Terran. I do have you on rapid-heal, since there was no infection. Except for your broken bones, you should be recovered in two weeks; those will take three to four."

Dana nodded, the reference to her broken bones bringing the casts on her arms to her attention, and she wondered again about their attackers. "How's my thakur? And what about the ones who attacked us?"

The doctor frowned. "Your thakur is fine, and wants to see you. I will permit that tomorrow morning; right now you still need to rest. As for your assailants, they are dead. Clan Torrance is particular about the safety of its guests, and the warrior Garvey caught them in the act. Two were kept alive long enough to question, and—" She broke off. "Garvey is an honorable man and would report what he was told accurately, but his prisoners might easily have lied to stop the interrogation."

Dana felt a sinking sensation. "What … what did they say?"

The doctor hesitated, clearly unwilling to tell her, but honesty was
too deeply ingrained in Sandemans for her to avoid it. "They said your thakur's chief representative here had hired them to ambush you, do ... what they did, and worse, then leave you to die of your injuries and exposure."

Dana swallowed past the lump that had appeared in her throat. That fit in all too well with her earlier feeling that they hadn't just been criminals. One starting to call his leader what sounded like "Cap," their avoidance of names, the leader's expertise with the baton… "Were they carrying any ID?"

"No."

And that fit the theory she was starting to evolve, too. They sounded like a mercenary commando team—but her thakur wouldn't do such a thing! He wouldn't set her up for a particularly unpleasant death … would he? Suddenly she wasn't sure. One of the less pleasant things she had done for him was to set up a—well, not a frame, the man had been guilty—but a trap for someone who had gotten in Jason's way. It had, indirectly, led to the man's death…

"I'm disturbing you," the doctor said. "And that is something you do not need. A tranquilizer, if you permit, would help."

Dana felt a brief flash of amusement at a doctor asking permission for a treatment—but this was Sandeman, where medical treatment was kept as unintrusive and respectful as possible even with an unconscious patient, and never went beyond that permitted by a conscious one. She nodded. "I think I'd like that, Doctor. Thank you."

"None needed." The doctor went to a wall cabinet, prepared an injector, and used it, then left as her patient fell asleep again.

Dana didn't recognize the w'woman who was in her room the next time she woke, but she didn't have time to ask for an introduction; she saw her thakur sitting beside her bed, scanning a tape.

Monitors apparently alerted the w'woman; she turned to Jason. "Your 'na is waking, Mr. Jason. If you wish to speak to her alone, I can monitor from outside."

"You needn't bother, Nurse," Jason said, putting down the tape-viewer and standing to look down at Dana, his expression mildly regretful. "It's too bad we had to be rescued early, thakur-na. I did try to give you a heroic death; sorry it didn't work out."

"Thakur?" Dana didn't want to believe what she was hearing, even though she'd half-suspected it. "I don't understand. Have I done something wrong?"

"No, at least nothing you could help," Jason said calmly. "You've simply outlived your usefulness. I thought I owed you the satisfaction of a trip here, then the belief that you were dying to save me; you were worth that much effort. Still, the fact remains: I wish you to leave me. I no