After twenty minutes of standing before potential hiding places, ignoring the questions and critical comments of passersby while trying to feel for the presence of Lioren with his mind, he had exhausted all the potential hiding places without success. Disappointed, he used his communicator.
“I felt absolutely nothing,” he said. “Come out, wherever you are.”
Lioren emerged from a door he had scanned a few minutes earlier and hurried toward him. It said, “Neither did I, even though I heard you pause outside my hiding place. The sound of Earthhuman footsteps is quite distinctive. But I felt the sense of recognition again, as soon as I saw you.”
“Me, too,” said Hewlitt. “But why do we have to be able to see each other?”
The Padre made a quiet, gurgling sound that did not translate and said, “God, and possibly the virus creature, knows.”
Hewlitt puzzled over the question in silence all the way to his old ward. Apart from calling O’Mara to pass on the new information, the Padre refused further discussion of the subject. It was possible that a large part of Lioren’s mind was on the troubles of the patient it was about to visit.
“Patient Hewlitt,” said Leethveeschi the moment he entered the nurses’ station, “what are you doing here?”
He knew that the charge nurse was used to the Padre visiting its ward, but it did not sound pleased by the presence of a former patient and proven disruptive influence like himself. Hewlitt was still trying to find a suitable reply when Lioren answered for him. He noted that the Padre did not actually lie, but it was sparing in its use of the truth.
“With your permission, Charge Nurse,” Lioren said, “it will accompany me so that it may observe and talk to the patients and, if it is able, provide me with nonmedical support. I will insure that it does not talk to anyone who is currently undergoing treatment or is in an unfit condition to hold a conversation. Ex-Patient Hewlitt will not, I assure you, cause any more trouble.”
A section of Leethveeschi’s body twitched inside its chlorine envelope in what was probably a nonverbal gesture of assent. It said, “I think I understand. The experience with Patient Morredeth has caused it to decide, or perhaps strengthen a decision already made, to become a trainee priest-counselor. This is very laudable, exPatient Hewlitt, and you have a fine mentor.”
“My real reason for being here … ” Hewlitt began.
“Would take too long to explain,” Leethveeschi broke in, “and right now I haven’t the time to listen to an other-species theological self-examination, interesting though it might be. You may talk to any of my patients who are able to talk back. But please, let us have no more miracles.”
“That is a promise,” he said as he followed the Padre into the ward.
They had already eliminated Leethveeschi and the other staff on duty in the nurses’ station from their list of former hosts, as well as the patient Lioren was visiting. It was a Melfan called Kennonalt whose support sling was surrounded with a worrying profusion of biosensor and life-support equipment. He did not find out what was wrong with it because, apart from exchanging names, Lioren had made it clear that the conversation with Kennonalt was to be private and that Hewlitt should spend the time checking the other patients until the Padre rejoined him.
His slow, zigzag progress down and from side to side of the ward was a trip through familiar territory, although he could not be sure of the familiarity of the patients because he still had difficulty telling one Tralthan, Kelgian, Melfan, or whatever from another. Most of them seemed glad of the chance to talk, a few appeared to be heavily sedated or were simply ignoring him, and one was undergoing treatment that could not be interrupted. But he was able to look at them, patients and medical attendants alike, closely and for more than enough time to eliminate them as former hosts. His last visit was to a Tralthan and a Duthan who were playing two-handed scremman at the ambulatory patients’ dining table. By the time he spoke they, too, had been eliminated.