They took me to a lower dungeon
where the slant of the sunlight was less visible. Dallisa said, "The sun
has risen."
I said nothing. Any word may be interpreted as a confession of defeat. I
resolved to give them no excuse. But my skin crawled and I had that
peculiar prickling sensation where the hair on my forearms was
bristling erect with tension and fear.
Dallisa said to the _chak_, "His gear was not searched. See that he has
swallowed no anesthetic drugs."
Briefly I gave her credit for thoroughness, even while I wondered in a
split second why I had not thought of this. Drugs could blur
consciousness, at least, or suspend reality. The white nonhuman sprang
forward and pinioned my arms with one strong, spring-steel forearm. With
his other hand he forced my jaws open. I felt the furred fingers at the
back of my throat, gagged, struggled briefly and doubled up in
uncontrollable retching.
Dallisa's poison-berry-eyes regarded me levelly as I struggled upright,
fighting off the dizzy sickness of disgust.
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