Chapter Nine
‘Konrad.’
The hallucinations were not gone, then. How sweet of them to linger, and keep him company as he died. He did not know that dreams could be so kind.
Konrad managed to smile at it, this vision of Nanda bending over him as he lay in a puddle of black bile. He felt it seeping through his coat, burning the fabric away, searing his skin, its foul smell assaulting his nostrils.
None of that mattered now.
‘I love you,’ he said to the dream-face, and tried to touch it. His arms wouldn’t work.
Ah, well.
‘Never mind that now,’ said Nanda, which was too like her, and Konrad felt a momentary pique. Could not this dream of his behave like a dream, just for a moment? While he died? Could it not say something soothing to his rended soul, for example I love you too, maybe even
