I | AwakeningShe awakened with a rush, drawing in air which smelled like ammonia and pain, and found herself lying on the floor of the gondola while Dravidian crouched over her and Milkweed—Milkweed! She lived!—purred against her ear. The gondola’s lanterns had been extinguished so that they floated in near blackness.
“My lungs burn,” she managed, reaching up to pet Milkweed and realizing suddenly that both her wrists were now free of shackles.
“It’s the smelling salts,” said Dravidian. “It will dissipate quickly. How do you feel otherwise?”
“I feel—I dreamed of a white fountain.” She looked into his eyes. “You were there with me ...” She drew her hand away from Milkweed and rubbed the ignudi dust (so prized for its qualities as an aphrodisiac) between her fingers. “So were you, Milkwee
