The drop hits my forehead and splashes wetly. None of the splash lands in my eyes, thank the goddess. My relief is cut short, though, as another drop forms and balances, swaying, on the end of the mandible above me. Splash. Still not in the eyes. After enough drops fall that a gooey rivulet forms on my forehead and moves itchingly toward my hairline, I realize that my forehead is lower than my eyes due to the trough and I am probably safe from blinding.

Still, my presence of mind slips gradually into hysteria as I lie frozen under the drip drip dripping of the foul liquid. When my hair is soaked with ichor and my head feels like it will explode into a mind-demolishing final scream, the drips start to slow down. And I hear a noise.

A cough, followed by muffled moaning. A female voice. It is Lynae! I hear her moving toward me, crawling through the dirt. Her face comes into my circle of vision. There is an ugly bruise on her temple and the whole left side of her face is bloody. Her eyes widen as she looks at me.

"Sweet mother of the forest!" she whispers. She shakes her head slightly and turns away. I hear her crawling off. Hey! My mind shouts. Where are you going?

She must have crawled over to Jeamo because her next words are directed at him.

"Well, well, well," I hear her say. "Come to a bad end, Jeamo?" I hear a low, choking gasp. Apparently the human is still alive. "Looks like you chose the wrong escape route," she continues. "Not the first bad decision you've made in the last day or two. But likely the last." She pauses, and Jeamo makes another plaintive gurgling sound. It makes me want to smash his head in and I clutch at the dirt convulsively. It is cool and wet between my fingertips. Then I realize. I just moved my fingers. Well, now. My lips feel numb but I pull my mouth into what must look like a ghastly rictus smile. I might survive the day after all.

"I expect you're wanted for questioning," Lynae continues. "But I can't carry you out of here. Maybe you'll live long enough for me to get some help down here. But I can't take the chance of those bugs inside you hatching. I'm just going to have to cut them out and destroy them." Jeamo's gurgle this time sounds like a faint protest.

"I leave 'em in, you die. This way, at least, you have a chance."

"Of what?" I think to myself. Living long enough until I can question you? Still, I suppose a quick death might be better than being slowly eaten from the inside out. Not that Jeamo deserves one dram of mercy. If I were the one kneeling next to him right now, I would be sorely tempted to let the eggs hatch and let him suffer for awhile. No worse than what he had planned for Alvar, and a lot more well-deserved.

"Here we go," warns Lynae, and Jeamo's voice rises in a crescendo of burbled pain, louder and louder, until it abruptly ends. Then all I can hear is the sound of Lynae's dagger slicing wetly through flesh.

"Ugh. They are already adhered. Well, so be it." Then comes a different sound, like cutting into a fish, followed by muffled clattering. She is killing the insects inside the eggs. They must be close to hatching. I shiver involuntarily and my hands sift through the dirt, finding the hafts of my weapons. By the time Lynae is done killing the hatchlings, I have pulled the stinger from my cuirass and struggled into a sitting position. Her back is turned to me, but I can see part of the twisted pile of entrails and pierced insect eggs that used to be Jeamo's stomach beyond her. He's dead. Guess we won't be questioning him, then.

"Hey," I try to say weakly, but all that comes out is an eerie sibilant groan. The elf-girl leaps up, turning around, surprised eyes wide with fear, letting out an involuntary shriek at the sight of me. I try to smile and lift my sword in what I hope looks like a friendly wave.

"You're alive?" She gasps. I nod. She jerks her head back at Jeamo. "He's dead. Tried to cut the eggs out of him, so we could question him. It didn't work." She moves to my side and helps me rise, stiffly, pulling me back toward the sewer.

"Come on, let's get out of here and find Enturi."

"Noooo-" I mumble. She stares at me questioningly. "Head." 

She exhales sharply. "Really?"

"Head!" I insist. The poison seems to be wearing off quickly now. I stumble over to Jeamo. Too weak to use my sickle for the decapitation as I did on Calmorien, I am finally able, with difficulty, to saw Jeamo's head off with my sword while Lynae crouches at the entrance to the sewer impatiently. I cut off a piece of the dead human's robes to wrap his head in and move awkwardly to the elf-girl. 

"All right," I pant. "Let's go, bugslayer."

She slips her arm around me, helping me walk. We slosh back the way we came through the fetid sewer.