Читать книгу King’s Wrath - Fiona McIntosh, Fiona McIntosh - Страница 15

They’d been heading north since they began walking. It was getting cooler the higher they went but it was still relatively mild — enough that Evie had rolled up her cloak and tied it to hang at her side. She felt ridiculous in this garb but the more she looked around at this landscape, the more foreign it all felt. The growing pit in her stomach had begun to assure her that she was nowhere close to anything familiar.

Corbel, as he now insisted she call him, looked anything but awkward. In fact, he seemed to stand even taller than she recalled and was that a slight swagger in his walk? Where was the withdrawn, closed individual she had loved all these anni? Now there was a glint in his eyes and a smile playing constantly at the corner of his lips. He was happy, Evie realised, and almost childish in his excitement, pointing out this plant or that landscape, none of it of any interest to her.

She was still trying to come to terms with the alienation she was feeling, not to mention the anger at him as much as fear. And yet instead of explaining he insisted they walk.

‘Reg!’

‘Corbel,’ he replied.

She took a breath to ensure her words came out calmly. ‘Corbel, where exactly are we going? And why exactly am I here?’

‘I’ve tried to explain —’

‘Except you’ve explained nothing,’ she huffed, catching up with him. ‘Slow down. I can’t walk as fast as you.’

He halved his long stride with obvious effort. ‘I wish there could have been a better way to ease you back into your world.’

‘My world?’ she hurled at him, her voice full of accusation. ‘My world is the city I belong in, where I’m a healer and everything makes sense.’

Corbel stopped. ‘Nothing made sense! Nothing. And you know it. You were the misfit there. You said it often enough. The world you belong to, Evie, is here. It was called Denova and your place of belonging is Penraven. And yes, you are still a healer.’

‘Have you any idea how this feels?’ she begged.

He gazed at her for several moments and she saw only pain in his expression. Finally, he nodded. ‘I do. I have lived with that confusion and despair every minute of the last twenty anni, looking after you in a strange land.’

She hadn’t expected that. She bit back on the ready retort as she considered his words … ‘I … I haven’t considered it from that point of view. I’m trying to wrap my mind around the notion that this is where you come from. Rationality and science is my life. Magic has no place.’

‘Really?’ he asked. ‘Search your heart, Evie, and perhaps you can privately call yourself a liar. I won’t.’

She glared at him. ‘That’s a ridiculous accusation.’

‘Is it?’ He shrugged. ‘You can’t keep pretending what you did every day to save lives was science. Both of us know that’s a lie. Perhaps you couldn’t explain the strange skill you have to heal people, but I can assure you, Evie, it wasn’t all scientific training. I’m taking you to a place where you can ask all the questions you need and you will get a far better insight than I can provide.’

‘Where? To the man you call Sergius?’

He shook his head. ‘He told me never to look for him should I ever bring you back. He made me promise that when I came back I would first take you to meet someone called the Qirin.’

Her mistrust deepened. ‘Who and what is the Qirin?’

Corbel shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I suppose we shall soon find out.’

‘Corbel, I’m tired.’

‘It’s not far and I promise you a roof over your head tonight, perhaps even a bath.’

She felt deeply weary. ‘I admit that is a seductive promise.’

He began walking again. ‘There,’ he said, as she clambered up beside him.

Her gaze narrowed as she focused on the buildings in the distance, nestling among an almost perfect crescent of rocky outcrops. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘The mountains in the background are called Lo’s Teeth.’

‘They look daunting.’

‘They are. I’ve never been further north than this region. But people called the Davarigons do live in the mountains.’

She shook her head in wonder. ‘Mountain dwellers?’ She shook her head again. ‘I can’t —’

‘I know, Evie. I really do understand how hard this is. Please don’t cry.’

She bit her trembling lip. ‘I’m sorry. This is all so impossible to calculate.’

‘Don’t calculate. Analyse none of it. Nothing will make sense. If you can accept that it’s not worth wasting the energy trying to understand but instead just try to blend in as best you can, I promise you that you will adapt.’

‘Yes, but what if I don’t want to?’ she snapped.

Corbel sighed silently but she saw his frustration. ‘Evie, I don’t want to keep saying this because it sounds as though I’m the villain here, but you have no choice. I can’t say it any plainer. Your pathway was mapped out a long time ago. Your father chose it. He also chose mine, to protect you until you could return to the land of your birth.’

She nodded, swallowed a soft sob of her own frustration and confusion. His voice was so tender. She had never questioned his friendship or his honesty. Evie lifted her chin and made a silent promise that she would trust Corbel de Vis until this nightmare ended. She had to believe it would, even though this place he called Denova certainly looked and felt real enough.

Evie sniffed. ‘So what is this place you’re taking me towards?’

The anxiety in her friend’s eyes lessened and she saw a sense of relief relax his expression. He had obviously thought she was going to crack. Grinning crookedly, he said, ‘A convent. There you will have your bath and I hope there is where you will find some answers. A word of warning,’ he cautioned. ‘If we’re going to blend in, we both need to leave our most recent lives behind. Forget the hospital, Evie, forget everything you know. In order for you to survive, I need you to trust me and do your utmost to avoid all mention of what has gone before for you. Today is the first day of your life.’

‘To survive? That sounds scary.’

He nodded. ‘We should be scared. There are people who wish you dead.’

She looked at him, aghast. ‘And still you brought me here?’

Corbel looked back at her sadly. ‘I take some comfort that you’re at least acknowledging that you are here. But I don’t know how to answer your question. I had no choice. I am the son of Regor de Vis and my duty is to the Crown of Penraven, and to the Valisars.’

‘And what about me?’

He gave a sad smile. ‘I’m fulfilling my duty, Evie. You are a Valisar.’

‘So I’m just a duty now. A chore to be done?’ She watched his eyes flash with pain but for once she felt no guilt; her confusion demanded more answers.

‘Don’t ever think that,’ he hurried to say. ‘I have loved youas … ’He appeared flummoxed. ‘I care about you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.’

She nodded, hating to see her favourite person looking so tongue-tied. Reg had never been anything but a rock in her life. If she were honest she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. ‘I love you too,’ she said without hesitation, surprised when he glanced at her with strange sorrow.

‘You say it so easily,’ he replied, looking away.

‘Because I mean it. I only hesitate if I’m telling a lie.’

‘I know,’ he said softly. Clearing his throat, he continued more curtly, ‘If I’m going to keep you safe, you must listen to what I say and follow my lead in all things. There is no technology here. None at all. But there is magic, as you’ve discovered for yourself. I know it all sounds like a confusing dream but I stress again, this is your new reality. You must … ’

‘Acclimatise?’

‘Yes, but don’t use words like that again.’

Evie sighed. ‘Reg … I’m tired of arguing with you. All right, I’ll try to speak “plain Denovian".’

He found a smile. ‘It’s in your soul. Hunt it down. You know how to do this.’

She looked at the impressive stone building as they slowed on their approach and shook her head.

Just as she fell into step alongside Reg, vowing to try very hard to acclimatise as her friend needed, three men rounded the bend in the path they had been following.

‘Aye, aye, what have we here?’ the eldest of the trio asked.

‘Morning,’ Corbel said, surprising Evie at how cheerful he could sound. ‘All well with you?’

‘Now it is,’ the youngest said. He had a black tooth at the front of his mouth and a smile that suggested he was a few strides short of a span.

Evie felt a tremor of alarm.

Corbel sensed the danger immediately. Years of training in his youth alongside his father and then two decades on the streets of a city in the other world had taught him plenty about people. And he’d learned that one could tell a great deal about a man long before he spoke. And Corbel was reading only the most dangerous of language from the silent newcomer whose gaze had yet to alight on him; so far his eyes were only for Evie.

‘Morning,’ Corbel repeated, deliberately slowing, loading his tone with lightness and cheer but all the while using the time to gauge what he was up against.

The black-toothed one was gormless enough not to trouble Corbel. The elder one who spoke first looked wiry and strong but he was small, with a limp, and carried only a dagger at his belt. It was the middle fellow who troubled Corbel the most. Silent, powerfully built and clearly with mischief on his mind, he wore a sword on his hip and moved like a fighter.

Evie had paused, he noticed, presumably sensing the man’s interest. He stepped slightly ahead of her to shield her.

‘Tasty lady,’ said Blacktooth, leering around him at Evie before grinning stupidly at his companions.

Corbel raised a hand. ‘We want no trouble here.’

‘Forgive our Clem, he has no manners at all,’ the dangerous one said.

The man’s voice was mellow, almost silky, but Corbel wasn’t fooled. ‘We don’t want trouble either.’

‘None from her, anyway,’ Clem said and now the older man grinned.

‘This is a lonely track for travellers,’ the dangerous man continued.

‘Yes it is,’ Corbel admitted. ‘But we are taking the shortest route to the convent.’ He shrugged, noting as he did so that theman’s hand was resting easily on the pommel of his sword. ‘How about yourselves?’

‘On our way to Francham.’

‘Francham? You have a long walk ahead,’ Corbel remarked, taking note that it wasn’t the old man’s leg that was injured; it was his hips, if he wasn’t mistaken. ‘No horses?’

‘Lost them,’ Blacktooth chimed in, chortling. That won a glare from their leader.

‘Lost them?’ Corbel repeated, using the time to take in his immediate surrounds.

The leader sighed. ‘An unwise gamble.’

Corbel gave a soft shrug as though he understood it was none of his business. ‘Well, we must continue. Come, my love.’

‘Is this your wife?’ the man asked.

‘Er, yes. We are newly wed.’

‘On our way to pay a tithe to the convent,’ Evie piped up, surprising everyone, most of all Corbel. ‘My father insisted,’ she added with a shy smile. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘nice to meet you. Safe travels.’ She took a step forward.

‘Now what is a pretty young thing like you doing marrying a rough-looking older man, I wonder?’

Corbel stepped between Evie and the stranger, all of his senses on high alert. The older man was reaching for his dagger and the younger one had only dopey amusement in his eyes, as though he’d witnessed similar scenes previously.

‘I thought you wanted no trouble,’ the stranger remarked, still appearing loose limbed and relaxed.

‘I still want no trouble,’ Corbel replied, a new hint of warning in his tone.

‘Then why this confrontation?’

‘Stranger, my wife and I just want to continue to the convent. We have no money worth stealing.’

‘Other than the tithe,’ the man corrected.

‘Other than the tithe,’ Corbel repeated, ‘which I fully intend to pay to the convent and not to bandits.’

The man and his elder companion feigned shock. ‘Did you hear that, Barro?’ the older man said. ‘He reckons we’re thieves.’

‘I heard it,’ the dangerous one drawled, and blinked slowly.

Corbel tensed and pushed Evie back. ‘Corbel!’ she murmured, anxious, as the ring of a sword being lifted from its scabbard sounded harshly in the peace of the countryside.

‘Hush, now, Evie,’ he said, keeping his voice low and calm. ‘These men intend us harm.’

‘It didn’t have to be like this,’ the stranger said. ‘I just want your money but Clem here will probably settle for a grope between your wife’s legs.’

Evie made a gagging sound of revulsion. ‘Go fu—’

‘Evie! Hush,’ Corbel cautioned, not once taking his eyes from the sword that was now being weighted in his opponent’s hand.

‘What a pity it had to come to this,’ the man remarked casually. His companions sniggered.

‘I have no time for thieves,’ Corbel warned.

‘Even when they are carrying weapons and you have none?’ the man asked, surprised.

‘Even then,’ Corbel replied.

‘Corb–’

‘I said quiet, Evie. There is no further need for us to be civil,’ he cautioned, silently measuring the distance between himself and the old fellow.

‘Actually, I prefer civility when I’m working. There’s really no need for harm,’ the leader assured. ‘I simply want your purse. What my companions require is their own business.’

The old man laughed and grabbed his crotch. This sent the youngest one into peals of shared laughter, his mouth wide open and showing more ruined teeth.

‘My wife is not for your companions’ sport and my purse is my own.’

The man sighed. ‘Don’t make me take it from you. It might cost you more than money.’

‘Don’t make me have to stop you,’ Corbel said, his voice very quiet. His calm made the stranger hesitate momentarily, but his companions hardly registered the change.

‘Let’s cut off his bollocks, Barro,’ Blacktooth said, saliva forming at the corners of his mouth. ‘Then he can’t fuck his wife again.’

‘We’ll have to do it for him,’ the older one tittered.

‘You’ll have to forgive my fellow travellers, sir. As you can tell, they have no refinement.’

‘I forgive them nothing,’ Corbel said, his voice so cold it was now brittle.

The man shifted his gaze back to Evie. ‘Your husband is courageous, madam. And he speaks like a noble. I think I understand your attraction to him.’

Corbel was glad to note that Evie remained silent. The man smiled, shifted his weight, and Corbel didn’t wait for him to make the first move. Instead, he bent sideways and kicked out suddenly with his leg, smashing his foot into the old man’s hip. The sound of a bone breaking in the old man’s skeleton was chilling and both Evie and the victim shrieked in tandem. But Corbel heeded neither. He had already regained his balance and crouched, spinning low and kicking Blacktooth’s legs out from under him. He was vaguely aware of the old fellow writhing on the ground and very aware of Barro raising his sword to strike.

In a fluid move that was already in motion while he was spinning, Corbel retrieved the hidden blades stored vertically along the sides of his ribs. One quickly found its way into Blacktooth’s throat, and the young man began gurgling helplessly as Corbel straightened and leapt away from Barro’s sword in the space of the blink of an eye.

Turning back, both he and Barro looked at the dying youngster and his companion, who was on the ground next to him, screaming and covered in Blacktooth’s blood.

‘That wasn’t very sporting of you,’ Barro remarked. ‘Although perhaps I should offer some gratitude. I was desperately tired of them both.’

‘I’ve simply made the fight a bit fairer,’ Corbel remarked.

They both smiled. And began circling each other.

Evie watched in horrified disbelief. There was a sense of the unreal — as though she were participating in a piece of medieval theatre. Except it was all sickeningly real. The screams were genuine, the blood was real, the knives and sword were not toys and this was not make believe. Corbel de Vis and the man known as Barro were engaged in what she sensed was going to be a fight to the death.

She stared at Corbel circling the man, a cold and calculating expression on his face that she had never seen before. She thought she had known Reg so well, but though the man who now accompanied her looked like Reg and talked like Reg that icy smile was chillingly unfamiliar. Reg meant to kill Barro, she was sure, because he had threatened her safety.

In fact, only now, as Barro began to laugh, did she realise she hadn’t taken a breath since the youth called Clem had fallen.

Clem! She looked again at the two figures on the ground. And finally her instincts kicked in and she moved into action.

‘You fight like a soldier. I’m impressed.’

‘Then engage me, or I’ll think you’re scared of me.’

‘Engage?’ Barro grinned, prodding at Corbel. ‘You speak like you’re from the old world.’

‘Perhaps I am,’ Corbel replied.

‘Stop this!’ Evie cried.

‘Too late, madam. I think your husband is determined to fight for your honour … not that I had any intention of threatening it.’

‘But your accomplices did,’ Corbel snarled. ‘And you will share the punishment.’

Barro laughed again. ‘You have a single dagger, my friend. You’d better ask your wife to look away. I’ll tell you what,’ Barro said, feinting with the sword and failing to lure Corbel into his trap. ‘I’ll marry your widow and treat her well when this is done. I can’t be more fair, can I?’

‘I’ll tell you what,’ Corbel replied. ‘As you have no wife to mourn you with flowers, I’ll bury you in this deserted landscape and piss on your grave so the weeds can at least grow over you.’

Barro appeared to enjoy his threat, laughing loudly. ‘I think I’ll regret killing you.’

‘No more talking, Barro. Fight, or die as you stand.’

‘As you won’t share your name, soldier, I’ll ask your wife for it later.’

Corbel was aware of Evie’s movement but his focus was now entirely on his opponent. He knew his dagger looked like a pointless weapon against the long sword but wielded with skill it could triumph. Barro’s sword was heavy — deadly, for sure, but cumbersome by comparison. Corbel would just need speed. And cunning.

Barro stabbed and though Corbel leapt backwards the blade caught him high on the arm. He felt the telltale sting but had no time to even check how deep the wound was, for Barro continued advancing without pause.

He thought he heard Evie yell but then everything dulled to the roar of his blood pounding. Nothing mattered but the man before him. He could smell Barro’s sweat and noticed, for the first time, that Barro carried an injury. While the man was right-handed, he favoured that right side. It must be his shoulder. And now that Corbel concentrated on it, still ducking and weaving and knowing he was entertaining Barro by permitting him to slash at him — taking the punishment but mercifully unable to register any pain for now — he saw that the man’s fighting arm was lowering. The sword was heavy, Barro’s fighting side was injured, and he had to keep adjusting and straightening his stance.

Corbel took a deep breath. He needed to unbalance Barro. His opponent’s natural inclination to re-align himself might do the rest and give Corbel the opening he needed. On the rim of his mind he could hear Evie still yelling, but he had to ignore it.

In that moment he felt a deep pain, one that made him want to retch and dragged him from the special place in his mind, back outside to where the smell of blood hung in the air.

‘No, please, Barro, please … ‘he could hear Evie screaming.

Corbel had taken all the punishment that he knew his body could withstand. But wearing Barro out was working; the strength in the man’s arm had so dissipated that he looked lopsided now, as he struggled to rebalance himself. He lifted the sword one more time, and, oddly, Corbel heard his brother’s voice in his head: Now, Corb, now!

Without thinking, Corbel launched himself forward, dagger extended. He glimpsed a look of bemused surprise on Barro’s face before he hit the man in the belly and then toppled with him. Regaining himself quickly, he straddled the soldier and, to a howl of protest from Evie, he plunged the dagger with great force into the man’s chest, just beneath the ribcage, feeling the satisfying give of flesh and the sudden sigh of breath.

It was over. Barro stared at Corbel with confusion and then looked down at his own chest. ‘You got me,’ he murmured. ‘Damn you,’ he said, with what sounded to Corbel like a hint of respect.

‘Corbel … ‘ Evie sounded ragged. ‘Corbel!’ Then suddenly she was upon him, shoving him off Barro, whose head had lolled back.

‘No!’ she screamed.

‘Evie,’ Corbel murmured, a tremor claiming him now as his mind began to accept that the immediate danger was over and his body began to register his wounds.

‘Shut up!’ she yelled into his face. ‘Just shut up, you fucking murderer!’

Corbel rocked back into the dirt on the ground, lost for words. Murderer? No. The fight had been fair. Unbalanced perhaps, butfair. He watched, disbelieving, as Evie replaced him on top of Barro and lay her hands on him.

Exercising the enormous control she had trained herself to wield when performing surgery, Evie wrestled all her nervous energy back under her own control and focused her mind on Barro.

She was surprised by how quickly she found her calm but she was genuinely shocked at the new and strange sensation that felt like electricity running through her as she went to work on her patient. She had no time to ponder what it meant, though. All that mattered right now was seeing if she could save Barro. It didn’t matter that he had attacked them. She was a doctor. She had taken an oath to preserve life.

Corbel was breathing hard, watching Evie, hardly daring to believe that she was offering ministrations to their enemy. The man had done his utmost to kill him and yet here she was snarling at him, accusing him of murder, swearing at him. His offence deepened when he realised that she wasn’t even going to turn her attention away from Barro for a second to check on his injuries.

He angrily shifted his gaze to the other two bandits. Blacktooth looked to be dead, lying in a surprisingly large pool of blood. The old man was groaning, also prone; Corbel had probably dislocated or re-broken that hip. He didn’t care.

‘Finish it!’ Barro growled at him. ‘Soldier to soldier.’

‘Don’t compare us,’ Corbel replied. ‘Suffer on. I —’

‘Quiet! Both of you, just shut up!’ Evie yelled. ‘I need to concentrate.’

He heard Barro sigh but it didn’t sound like the sigh of someone accepting a rebuke so much as the sound of someone resigning. Corbel had heard it before. And he was sure Evie had. Barro sighed once again, accepting his death.

‘No, please, no! Hang on. Stay alive, Barro. For me.’

‘Evie. Let him die,’ Corbel urged. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of —’

She turned on him, though her hands never left Barro’s major wound. ‘Don’t you dare!’ she raged, her voice barely under control. He had seen her annoyed before, he’d even seen her angry but he had never seen this; this hot rage, and the temper directed at him! Corbel bit back on his next words and staggered slightly, shocked by the snarl on her mouth, the contempt of her tone. He was sure he could see disgust in her gaze. ‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do, de Viz, or whatever the hell your bastard name is!’

It felt worse than a shock slap, worse even than a punch in the belly. Corbel felt his very world tilt. ‘It’s de Vis,’ he corrected, unable to think of anything else to say. He heard his own voice sound soft and shocked.

But she didn’t care, it seemed. ‘Go to hell!’ she spat at him before returning her attention to Barro.

‘Evie,’ he began.

‘Don’t,’ she warned. ‘Don’t say anything more.’

He didn’t. He left Evie to her ministrations. He carelessly hauled Blacktooth’s body away and left it behind some rocks. Then he busied himself, studiously ignoring the old man prone nearby, pushing soil around with his boots to disguise the pool of blood that had begun to dry into the ground. Satisfied that the worst of it was covered, he glared at the injured man.

‘I won’t be helping you,’ he snarled.

‘Just something for the pain — arack perhaps?’

Corbel shook his head.

Evie silently moved in front of Corbel and knelt down beside the wheezing old man, laying her hands on him. Corbel was desperate to speak but bit back on his words, this time looking away in despair. Her defiance might get them both killed.

He looked back over at Barro and saw what he most dreaded. The man was sitting up, holding his head. ‘What just happened?’

Barro asked, touching his chest, his belly, looking down at his body with incredulity.

Corbel walked over to him but said nothing.

‘You killed me. I died. I’m sure of it. I felt the life leave me.’

‘Seems you imagined it,’ Corbel muttered.

Barro’s crazed eyes searched his own. ‘You killed me, damn it!’

Corbel put his hands up defensively. ‘All right. Hush.’ His mind was racing. How could he keep this situation under control?

Barro’s confusion deepened, his brow almost hooding his eyes. ‘All right? All right?’ he demanded. ‘You mean you agree?’

Corbel sighed. ‘I clearly didn’t kill you,’ he said, his exasperation spilling.

‘It’s done,’ Evie said, sounding suddenly drained. ‘I’ve put him to sleep. We need to talk,’ she said, her voice hard, eyeing them both.

Barro shook his head. ‘I don’t understand any of this.’

Evie glared at Corbel. ‘Are you going to explain?’

He shook his head slightly. ‘You’re the one taking control. Why don’t you throw us straight into deeper danger? Your father —’ he began but was cut off by Evie.

‘My father, whoever he was, was a cowardly dog. If I’m to believe what you’ve been telling me then what on earth was in his head to think he was doing me a favour sending me off with you in the manner he did, all the secrecy, and the risk of such dislocation?’

‘He kept you alive,’ Corbel said.

‘For what? Ask yourself. What do you think we can achieve in terms of the grand fight you seem to believe we are up against?’

Before Corbel could think of how to answer her, Barro began to get to his feet and Evie snapped her head around to glare at him. ‘And I’d suggest you remain still for a while longer.’

‘Who are you both?’ the bandit asked, sounding deeply bewildered. ‘I thought I heard the name de Vis being bandied around. But perhaps that’s just part of my present madness because I am sure I am dead.’

Corbel felt momentarily sorry for the man. He walked over and helped Barro to his feet. ‘Slowly,’ he said. ‘Listen to her regarding your health. She knows what she’s talking about.’

Barro’s fist bunched Corbel’s shirt. ‘Answer me, damn you. I should be dead, right? Gar knows I felt the keen pain of your sword entering my flesh.’

‘Listen to me, Barro,’ Evie said, her tone plain. Gone was her polite bedside manner. ‘You’re going to have to accept something that seems impossible. You are walking proof that magic happens. Get past it!’

Corbel threw her a glance of gratitude. He’d feared for a moment that she was going to launch into a discussion about medicine and physiology. But she ignored his gaze, continuing to stare hard at Barro. ‘Do you believe in magic, Barro?’

The man looked between them both but Corbel refused to look at him. This was too difficult. Besides, it wasn’t right. It was opening them up to a raft of new problems.

‘I believe only in what I see,’ Barro answered carefully.

Corbel watched Evie’s eyes flare. ‘Excellent,’ she said, all brisk efficiency. ‘Then you believe yourself healed?’

‘I have no choice, do I? But I want to understand how it comes that I am whole.’

‘I’ll explain again. I used magic on you,’ she said matter of factly. ‘I healed you.’

‘But that’s impossible,’ he began, again flicking his glance between the two of them. ‘Prove it. Heal the boy,’ he said to Evie.

‘I don’t have to prove it to you. I have already shown you by the fact that you are not bleeding out into the soil. I’m sorry to say that it’s too late for him. He is already dead.’