Chapter 15 - Part 10

“It is so deft,” Greoche was saying, admiring the stormstalk.

“It moves quickly,” Thomas said. He had been lying in bed when she had knocked to come in, and now he was sitting with his back against the backboard, waiting for her to go away. He had his eyes shut, for he had found if he couldn’t see her, his mind didn’t constantly babble ideas for reshaping her internal organs.

“I think it likes me!” she laughed.

“It does,” Thomas said curtly. He felt the symbiont’s joy at being the center of attention through the telepathic bond. Its intelligence was only slightly higher than an animal’s, but it loved praise.

Not gotten any from you, have I, no, it snipped at him mentally. As always, it spoke to him in the language of his father.

“Its power, so wonderful,” Greoche said. “I wonder if I could earn one.”

Thomas’ eyes flew open in shock, and she started a bit at their glow. “Why in Khyber would you want one?” he snarled at her.

“I – I am not afraid of the newflesh,” she said, pulling herself back a bit, although not as much as she could with a spine that was grafted from a fungus.

“Then you’re an idiot,” Thomas growled. “I have no peace from this thing, no rest from its babbling. How could you admire it? Don’t you understand that I would be normal if I could?”

She looked like he’d slapped her. “You are tired,” she said. “And that warforged has put strange things in your mind. I will let you rest.” She stood up and hurried out – although she would have been able to move faster with eight legs, like a spider – and slammed the door.

The stormstalk sent a reproachful thought his way, but he ignored it. Maybe Oalian would kill him tomorrow, and this entire thing would be over.