Immediately a sensation of warmth sweeps up through his nostrils and flows like warm water behind his eyelids. A few seconds later, to Veil's amazement, the pain in his face dulls, receding to a tiny point somewhere inside his left ear.
The Nal-toon's blood acts like shilluk, Veil thinks, and his heart pounds with excitement. Except that the blood is many times more powerful than shilluk. Now he knows that the Nal-toon has given him His blood in order to ease his pain, and it is meant to be sniffed in very small amounts.
As if to reaffirm his new knowledge, Veil takes a slightly larger pinch of the Nal-toon's blood-shilluk and breathes it into his nostrils. The residual pain in his left ear blinks out as a pleasing sun-warmth oozes down through his entire body. He hears a sound like the rustling of wind in the desert; the wind is filling him, lifting him off the ground. He is floating away . . .
Enough! Veil thinks. The Nal-toon's gift must be used with as much care as water in the open desert.
The pain has disappeared, and despite the odd sensation of floating, Veil is no longer nauseous. None of the magic machines the Nal-toon has given the Newyorkcities can compare with this wondrous gift, he thinks. He cannot remember ever feeling so at peace.
Veil eases himself down on his stomach, rests his head against the Nal-toon, and drifts off to sleep within sleep.
It is night when Veil awakens, as Toby, in his dream; once again he is nauseous and in excruciating pain. He vomits, and this causes new club-blows of pain to hammer against the left side of his skull.
Moaning in agony, he searches in the darkness until he finds a few grains of the Nal-toon's blood-shilluk. He hurriedly sniffs some from the palm of his hand and immediately begins to feel better. He starts to inhale more, then stops himself. He will take only as much as he needs to ease his pain and sickness, Veil thinks; to take more, to deliberately seek euphoria and the comfort of sleep, would be to abuse this most wondrous gift. Also, he must remain conscious now; it is night and he must move on.
Replacing the carrying sling around his neck, Veil eases himself to the ground. His stomach knots with anxiety when he looks up at the sky, for clouds obscure the stars. His sickness has disoriented him, causing him to lose track of the direction in which he must go in order to reach the airplane fields. He needs the stars.
The stars in the sky over Newyorkcity are different than in the sky over the desert, he thinks, and it is often difficult to see them through the background of lights and the haze of smoke that chokes the air of this strange land. But the configuration of the stars, though different from those at home, remains consistent, and that is all he needs in order to orient himself. But he must be able to see them.
He leans against the side of the wooden object and waits, trying to remain calm. He is certain that the Nal-toon will soon clear the sky for him, and his faith is rewarded; soon a wind rises from the north and begins to blow the clouds across the sky. Veil gains his bearings from a brief glimpse of the stars, and a short time later clouds blow back over the moon, shrouding him in darkness.
He retches again. When the spasms pass, Veil carefully removes the piece of clothes covering the base of the Nal-toon, then allows a small amount of the precious blood-shilluk to flow into his palm. He inhales the powder and, as before, his pain and nausea immediately disappear. It is a fine night, Veil thinks. It is good to be alive, under the Nal-toon's protection.
Time has lost meaning. Veil moves slowly, wearily, staggering from side to side. He constantly has to remind himself not to test the Nal-toon's mercy by being careless, and yet he is only dimly aware of entering an area of more streets and buildings.
He almost weeps with joy when he comes upon a wooded area that seems almost as densely forested as Centralpark.
He enters the jungle on a stone path, passes through a copse of trees, and finds himself at the edge of a clearing filled with stone totems. These totems are different from the one his people erected on the graves of Reyna's parents, Veil thinks, but he instinctively senses that they are death-totems. He is in a jungle where the Newyorkcities bury their dead.
His first reaction is fear, for in his feverish state he imagines that he can see the spirits of dead Newyorkcities hovering over their totems. Then he reminds himself that he is under the protection of the Nal-toon; no spirit will attack a warrior moving under the protection of God. His fear passes.
In a spirit of thanksgiving and respect, and to assure that the Newyorkcity spirits do not betray his presence, Veil sets about constructing his own small peace totems. When his closed left eye begins to throb, he sniffs more of the Nal-toon's blood-shilluk. He finishes his totems in a state of pain-free euphoria.
Within a short time he has found an area suitable for going to ground. There is a shallow stream nearby; Veil lies down in its clear waters, occasionally drinking as he allows the water to cool his burning flesh.
He uses a sharp-edged, flat rock to scoop out a shallow trench in the soft, cool earth on the stream's sloping bank. He anchors the surrounding soil with sticks and rocks, then devises a cover of leafy branches woven together with vines and supple twigs. Finally Veil settles down in the trench with the Nal-toon close to his belly. He pulls the woven cover over him and rests his head on a soft, leafy mat he has woven for that purpose. Feeling pain and nausea, he sniffs more blood-shilluk and closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of sanctuary and the warm sense of well-being that the Nal-toon's gift brings him.
He realizes with some surprise that he is not hungry, despite the fact that he cannot remember when he last ate. Hungry or not, Veil thinks, he must eat to keep up his strength. He will stay in this jungle of the dead until he feels better. Here he can snare small game and fashion new weapons.
Veil allows himself the luxury of sniffing more of the precious blood-shilluk, and he drifts away like a leaf rolling in a gentle breeze.
Veil is no longer concerned with the passage of time. Far more important to him is the fact that the blood-shilluk seems to have dried up his insides, for he no longer suffers such severe bouts of vomiting and diarrhea. However, he remains very weak, and he finds it difficult to hunt for food. Despite his weakness, he does manage to snare a rabbit and a large rat.
Veil imagines that he can feel some of his strength returning—but very slowly. The swelling on the left side of his face has gone down, and his left eye has opened, although the vision in that eye is so blurred as to be useless. He manages to fashion new weapons: a bow, its wood flame-hardened and strung with thin, plaited vines; arrows with flame-hardened tips dipped in his own waste; a throwing stick.
But he is not recovering as quickly as he thinks he should. Every labor is an immense effort requiring deep concentration and exercise of will; he suffers terrible headaches, and the flesh on the left side of his face burns when he touches it. He begins to fear that his continuing sickness and pain are at least partially the result of some Newyorkcity magic spell that is draining his strength, and it is only the Nal-toon's blood-shilluk that is keeping him alive in this place.
He has confirmed his suspicion that the Nal-toon's gift is very dangerous if used in excess—it brings deep unconsciousness, which, however pleasant, could prove deadly to him, inasmuch as it renders him totally vulnerable to his enemies. Thus he is now constantly on guard to use the great gift sparingly, only on those occasions when his sickness and pain seem unbearable, or when his bowels loosen, or when the ache in his head threatens to blind him in both eyes.