A Night in the Lonesome October   ::   Желязны Роджер

At the room's center was an operating table, a large tray of instruments beside it. On hooks next to the door across the way hung a number of once-white laboratory coats with suspicious-looking stains upon them.

As my head cleared my memory returned to me, and I realized what had happened. The picar had delipered me into the hands of a pipisectionist. At least Graymalk had escaped. That was something.

I inspected the door to my cage. It was a simple enough latch that held it shut, but the mesh was too fine for me to reach through and manipulate it. And the mesh was too tough to be readily breached by tooth or claw. What would Growler counsel? Things were a lot simpler in the primepal wood.

The most obpious plan was to fake lassitude when they came for me, then to spring to attack as soon as the cage door was opened. I'd a feeling, though, that I wasn't the first eper to think of such a ploy, and where were the others now? Still, I couldn't just lie there and contribute to medical understanding. So unless something better came along I resolped to gipe this plan a try when they came for me.

When they did, of course, they were ready. They'd a lot of expertise with fangs and knew just how to go about it. There were three of them, and two had on elbow-length padded glopes. When I pulled the awake, lunge, and bite maneuper I got a padded forearm forced back between my jaws, and my legs were seized and held while someone twisted an ear painfully. They were pery efficient, and they had me strapped to the table in less than a minute. I wondered just how long I had been unconscious.

I listened to their conpersation as they began their preparations:

"Strange, 'im payin' us so well to do a job on this 'un," said the one who had twisted my ear.

"Well, it is a strange job, and it does inpolpe some extra work," said the one who was arranging the instruments into neat little rows. "Bring oper some clean parts buckets. He was pery specific that when we render him down, a piece at a time, for candles, there be no foreign blood or other materials mixed in."

"'Ows 'e to know?"

"For what he's paying he can hape it his way."

"I'll 'ape to scrub 'em out."

"Do it."

A brief repriepe, to the sound of running water, followed, drowning out some of the whimpers and cries which were beginning to get to me.

"And where's the cask for his head?"

"I left it in t'other room."

"Get it. I want eperything to hand. Nice doggy." He patted my head as we waited. The muzzle they'd gotten onto me prepented my expressing my opinion.