CHAPTER THREE
At first he didn't know where he was. There were wet cloths on his head. It felt very good. His vision was slightly blurred around the edges. His face felt like it recently been washed, as did his arms, and even some of his neck and chest. And then curiosity gripped him, as it so often had, and he wondered who had done all this.
"You're awake."
Erik looked up and saw – Darius.
"Where – is – Daroga?" He croaked.
"Master Nadir is making tea," Darius answered. Erik's eyes widened in surprise. Daroga had a name? Well, this was news to him!
The Persian man entered the room, carrying a cup. He placed it down on Erik's bedside table. Only then did Erik notice that both men were avoiding his eyes.
"Where's – my – mask?" he managed.
"Well, Erik, you've been quite sick," Daroga said hesitantly, "And, your mask isn't exactly in the best condition anymore. . . ."
Erik nodded. He understood.
"You've been asleep for two, maybe three days."
Erik nodded again. He waited for Daroga to continue.
"Your fever finally broke about an hour ago. . . ."
Erik sighed. He felt so vulnerable, no mask, Daroga taking care of him. Not to mention the worst nightmares he'd ever had. He shuddered, then looked at Daroga. Daroga was looking as if he wanted to say something.
"Yes, Daroga?" Erik asked. His voice was quite rough, but that was to be expected.
"Well, you, um," Daroga mentally shook himself, then plowed on.
"You very much need a bed."