Meanwhile Scrupilo had run around the edge of the hospital and was standing just a few dozen yards from the Pilgrim. Most of him was staring at the ground under Wickwrackscar. "It's Johanna! Johanna!" For a moment it looked like the fool would jump over the fence.
"I think she's okay, Scrupilo." Wickwrackscar said. "She was just feeding one of the duos and it went nuts — attacked her."
One of the doctors looked over the carnage. There were three corpses on the ground, and blood enough for more. "I wonder what she did to provoke them."
"Nothing, I tell you! But when she went down, half the hospital went after Whatsits here." He waggled a nose at unidentifiable remains.
Vendacious looked at Chitiratte, at the same time saw Woodcarver arrive. "What about it, Soldier?" he asked. Don't screw up, Chitiratte.
"I-it's just like the pilgrim says, my lord. I've never seen anything like it." He sounded properly astounded by the whole affair.
Vendacious stepped a little closer to the Pilgrim. "If you'll let me take a closer look, Pilgrim?"
Wickwrackscar hesitated. He had been snuffling around the girl, looking for wounds that might need immediate attention. Then the girl nodded weakly to him, and he backed off.
Vendacious approached, all solemn and solicitous. Inside he raged. He'd never heard of anything like this. But even if the whole damn hospital had come to her aid, she should still be dead; the Kratzi duo could have ripped her throat out in half a second. His plan had seemed fool-proof (and even now the failure would cause no lasting damage), but he was just beginning to understand what had gone wrong: For days, the human had been in contact with these patients, even Kratzi. No Tinish doctor could approach and touch them like the Two-Legs. Even some whole packs felt the effect; for fragments it must be overwhelming. In their inner soul, most of the patients considered the alien part of themselves.
He looked at the Two-Legs from three sides, mindful that fifty packs of eyes were watching his every move. Very little of the blood was from the Two-Legs. The cuts on her neck and arms were long and shallow, aimless slashings. At the last minute, Kratzi's conditioning had failed before the notion of the human as pack member. Even now, a quick flick of a forepaw would rip the girl's throat open. He briefly considered putting her under Security medical protection. The ploy had worked well with Scriber, but it would be very risky here. Pilgrim had been nose to nose with Johanna; he would be suspicious of any claims about "unexpected complications". No. Even good plans sometimes fail. Count it as experience for the future. He smiled at the girl and spoke in Samnorsk, "You're quite safe now," for the moment and quite unfortunately. The human's head turned to the side, looking off in the direction of Chitiratte.
Scrupilo had been pacing back and forth along the fence, so close to Chitiratte and Pilgrim that the two had been forced back. "I won't have it!" The cannoneer said loudly. "Our most important person attacked like this. It smells of enemy action!"
Wickwrackscar goggled at him. "But how?"
"I don't know!" Scrupilo said, his voice a desperate shout. "But she needs protection as much as nursing. Vendacious must find some place to keep her."
The pilgrim pack was clearly impressed by the argument — and unnerved by it. He inclined a head at Vendacious and spoke with uncharacteristic respect, "What do you think?"
Of course, Vendacious had been watching the Two-legs. It was interesting how little humans could disguise their point of attention. Johanna had been staring at Chitiratte, now she was looking up at Vendacious, her shifty little close-set eyes narrowing. Vendacious had made a project this last year of studying human expressions, both on Johanna and in stories in Dataset. She suspected something. And she also must have understood part of Scrupilo's speech. Her back arched and one arm fell raised weakly. Fortunately for Vendacious, her shout came out a whisper that even he could scarcely hear: "No… not like Scriber."
Vendacious was a pack who believed in careful planning. He also knew that the best-made schemes must be altered by circumstances. He looked down at Johanna and smiled with the gentlest public sympathy. It would be risky to kill her like Scriber's frag, but now he saw that the alternatives were far more dangerous. Thank goodness Woodcarver was stuck with her limper on the other side of the camp. He nodded back at Pilgrim and drew himself together. "I fear Scrupilo is right. Just how it might have been done, I don't know, but we can't take a chance. We'll take Johanna to my den. Tell the Queen." He pulled cloaks from his backs and began gently to wrap the human for the last trip she would ever make. Only her eyes protested.
