It shouldn't have been true. During the night, he'd partially awakened
in agony to find Nema chanting and gesturing desperately beside him, and
he'd been sure he was on the verge of his second death. He could
remember one moment, just before midnight, when she had stopped and
seemed to give up hope. Then she'd braced herself and begun some ritual
as if she were afraid to try it. Beyond that, he had no memory of pain.

Nema came into the room now, touching his shoulder gently. She smiled
and nodded at him. "Good morning, Sagittarian. Get out of bed."

Expecting the worst, he swung his feet over the side and sat up. After
so much time in bed, even a well man should be rendered weak and shaky.
But there was no dizziness, no sign of weakness. He had made a most
remarkable recovery, and Nema didn't even seem surprised. He tentatively
touched foot to floor and half stood, propping himself against the high
bed.

"Come on," Nema said impatiently. "You're all right now. We entered your
sign during the night." She turned her back on him and took something
from a chest beside the bed. "Ser Perth will be here in a moment. He'll
want to find you on your feet and dressed."

Hanson was beginning to feel annoyance at the suddenly cocksure and
unsympathetic girl, but he stood fully erect and flexed his muscles.
There wasn't even a trace of bedsoreness, though he had been flat on his
back long enough to grow callouses. And as he examined himself, he could
find no scars or signs of injuries from the impact of the bulldozer--if
there had ever really been a bulldozer.