Seventh Son: The Tales Of Alvin Maker, Volume I - Plot & Excerpts
Alvin lay unmoving on his bed, his right leg heavy with splints and bandages, pressing into the bed like an anchor, the rest of his body afloat, adrift, pitching and rolling and yawing. He was dizzy, and a little sick. But he hardly noticed the weight of his leg, or the dizziness. The pain was his enemy, throbs and stabs of it taking his mind away from the task that Taleswapper had set him: to heal himself. Yet the pain was his friend, too. It built a wall around him so he scarce knew he was in a house, in a room, on a bed. The outside world could burn up and turn to ash and he’d never notice it. It was the world inside that he was exploring now. Taleswapper didn’t know half what he was talking about. It wasn’t a matter of making pictures in his mind. His leg wouldn’t get better from just pretending it was all healed up. But Taleswapper still had the right idea. If Alvin could feel his way through the rock, could find the weak and strong places and teach them where to break and where to hold firm, why couldn’t he do it with skin and bone?
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