Amassa smiled and ruffled his hair. “I must remember, my darling primitive, that your body is not as adaptive as ours.”
“I’m afraid not.” He hesitated. “How long was I… under?”
Amassa pouted; time meant little to her, and she hated having to think about it. “Oh, about three days, I think. Does it matter?”
Three days! Who knew what could have happened in all that time? Would the army still be searching for him, or had Singh’s ruse put them off the trail? “Where are my friends?” he asked.
“The twisted one is still with me—he wasn’t much fun, and no one else wanted him. As for the others….” She shrugged. “They’re off somewhere. I’m not sure precisely where.”
“Will I have a chance to see them again?”
“Perhaps.” Amassa’s tone made it plain she was annoyed at the direction the conversation
