The Fat is in the Fire

In some countries, a sentinel who needs to stay awake on duty can borrow hours of consciousness by drinking a stimulating cup of tea or coffee. However, this is not a panacea. The debt has to be paid back to the body at some time. The sentinel can push to five or six cups. There comes a time where the mind rebels, and refuses to concentrate on any tasks at hand, but the body cannot shut down and give it some relief. Simple tasks, requiring little thought, such as marching or rowing, will suffer last. The tasks requiring attention to detail and creating new things, such as composing a speech or solving a mathematical problem, are often impossible even though the drinker knows that she is awake.

Astra was as alert as someone on her sixth cup of coffee six hours after her normal bed time. She was limited in what she could do in any case, as she did not want to use the mind pictures to talk to the Dunchovians until they had a good night's sleep. Someone bid her to rise, and she did, with some effort. After some time, she noticed that she was walking among a bunch of flickering torches. She tried counting, but could not manage that. Numbers were too abstract for her. There seemed to be fewer and fewer torches. She lost track of time. Now she was awake again, although it was still dark. A group of young Duchovians were holding torches near her, but they were careful not to burn her. (Would she burn? She did not want to try, but she really did not think that she would.) She was led back. The fire seemed brighter but smokier. She heard the word "fat in the fire." The Dunchovians were trying to find something to make the fire burn brighter. It seemed to work. She seemed to be thinking a little more clearly - but just a little. The plains did not have many trees, so Dunchovians were using dried grass, scrub, and whatever they could find. The Dunchovians were calmly moving away from the fire. She could her popping sounds. She started to look around, and could recognize men and women by name and if she did not know the names, she could remember them by their faces now. She felt that she was awake, although still a bit tired. White tongues of flame leapt from the bonfire where the fat of an antelope had been thrown. She waved to Radagaisic, whose teeth flashed back at her ghoulishly in the night. She thought that she could hear something, but she could not quite understand it. Something pulled at her arm. She turned to see some beads and some long, silver hair. Viani was trying to get her attention. "Try now." Try what? "Vision! Vision!" She was supposed to see something. Astra walked a couple of steps toward the white part of the fire. "Viani wants me to test a vision?" That had to be it. What did they want? Astra tried to think of the first thing that came to her mind. With the smoky, burning fat clogging the air, she thought of big strips of bacon. And eggs - over easy with soft yolks. And toast. And butter. She wished she could eat them, but as a steingeweser it would probably be no more edible than gold would be to a normal man or woman. It brought back good memories though.

She turned toward Viani. Did she get the vision?

Astra walked away from the fire. The white flames died down. A couple of Dunchovians helped her to the ground, and her last memory was that of a canvas blanket being thown over her. She slept like a rock.

1. The morning came, and the Dunchovians describe what they saw.

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