followed. Dave tried to crawl out, but something held him back. It
wasn't until Bork's big hand reached in to help him that he made it.
When all were out, Bork tapped the egg-shaped object and caught it as it
shrank. When it was small enough, he pocketed it.

Dave sat up again, examining himself, now that he had more room. His
clothing was a mess, spattered with drying blood, but he seemed unharmed
now. Even the burning of the venom was gone. He reached for the arm
around his neck and began breaking it free from its stranglehold.

From behind an incredulous cry broke out. Nema sprawled across him,
staring at his face and burying her head against his shoulder. "Dave!
You're not dead! You're alive!"

Dave was still amazed at that himself. But Bork snorted. "Of course he
is. Why'd we take him along with you hanging on in a faint if he were
dead? When the snetha-knife kills, it kills completely. They stay dead,
or they don't die. Sagittarian?"

She nodded, and the big man seemed to be doing some calculations in his
head.

"Yeah," he decided. "It would be. There was one second there around
midnight when all the signs were at their absolute maximum
favorableness. Someone must have said some pretty dangerous health
spells over him then." He turned to Dave, as if aware that the other was
comparatively ignorant of such matters. "Happened once before, without
this mess-up of the signs. They revived a corpse and found he was
unkillable from then on. He lasted eight thousand years, or something
like that, before he got burned trying to control a giant salamander.