Juan pulled his hand from hers, and in a movement that seemed very fast to her, he tore the oxygen mask from his face. Before going to find Bradford, she caressed his pale lips and the skin beneath his sunken eyes, which looked as strange as they always did after the Ceremonial: more transparent, criss-crossed by burst vessels—they looked blind. Tali knew they would improve as the hours passed. She leaned over to kiss Juan’s forehead, and he asked in a low voice how long he’d been out. A day, more or less, she told him. I’ll be right back, she said, and opened the door. Bradford was already on the other side, as if something had alerted him. Tali left them alone. She leaned against the window in the hallway. Outside, the sky threatened another storm: purple clouds split off over the black of night, and the air seemed made of honey. Tali caressed the talisman under the thin skin of her arm, so small it looked like an insect bite or a blemish. My lord, thank you, she said, and with words no one could learn, she promised a perfect gift when she was back home, back in her temple. She had asked the saint once who the Darkness was; she’d asked at night, years ago, amid wine and candles, and the saint had replied in the cards: again and again the answer appeared in the center of the spread. The Moon. It was the card Juan had drawn for her and the one Tali understood the least, one she always interpreted as meaning an important change, a voluntary one. But it was also about deception, confusion, reverie. Madness, even.

Bradford came out of the room and nodded to Tali to say she could go in. The doctor’s hair was dirty and she felt a wave of disgust, as though she’d accidentally touched the bottom of a pot that had rotten meat stuck to it.

Juan was sitting up in bed, buttoning a clean white short-sleeved shirt. On the sheets lay a tangle of cables from the intravenous drip, the electrodes, and the other equipment he’d been hooked up to. When he looked at her, she saw his eyes were already less bloodshot; little by little they were returning to their usual yellow-flecked green. Juan beckoned her closer: his hands were shaking and he couldn’t get the shirt fastened. Tali helped him. She asked if he could go out yet, and he replied that Bradford said no, but he wasn’t about to stay in bed. I want you to take me for a walk, he said. Tali finished buttoning his shirt and asked if he could stand, because she couldn’t hold his weight if he fell. Juan put his feet on the floor and his hands on Tali’s shoulders. When he stood up, he breathed deeply to keep his knees firm. I can, he said. Where’s Stephen? He’s resting, but I can call him.