Page 94 - Folio Only

So she opened the door.

Oh, would that she hadn't. Her trouble began that night. Her life was
ruined that night. Her father was sitting on the floor, naked, rocking back and
forth, holding his arms around himself, making happy bleating, cooing sounds.
When he heard the door open, he turned and stared with wild, weird red eyes.
Bloodshot, are they? first thought Gemma. But on second look, she saw his
eyes were entirely red; there was no pupil in either eye. It was as though his
eyes were made of some sort of red-colored glass.

“Gemma!” he shouted. “Close the door! Go away. You mustn’t see me
like this.”

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. Go away. I'll explain in the morning.”

She shut the door. Through the door, she heard him say, “Oh, Gemma,
forgive me.” She tried to sleep, but as you can imagine, no sleep was possible.

In the morning, she was further alarmed when there seemed to be no
dishes or pans to cook the morning meal. Her father, distraught, explained,
humiliated, “I sold them yesterday, Gemma. I sold them in order to have
money to buy N’ariq. I've been selling things without telling you, Gemma.”

“N’ariq?”

“It has many names. The Draft of Knowledge. The Liquid of the Gods.
The Elixir of Life.”

“You're -- you're a drunkard, Babbo?”

“N’ariq is far more potent than alcohol, far more evil.”

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