He felt it blow against his hands where they lay at his sides, and over his back.
The touch of the man’s hands seemed to have disappeared. Now he became aware of an entirely new sensation: pinpricks?
No, because they were soft and without pain. Tiny, cold, featherlike feelings peppered his body and face.
He put out his tongue again, and caught one of the dots of cold upon it.
It disappeared from his awareness instantly; but he caught another, and another. The sensation made him smile.
One part of his consciousness knew that he was still lying there, on the bed, in the Annex room.
Yet another, separate part of his being was upright now, in a sitting position,
and beneath him he could feel that he was not on the soft decorated bedcovering at all, but rather seated on a flat, hard surface.
His hands now held (though at the same time they were still motionless at his sides) a rough, damp rope.
And he could see, though his eyes were closed. He could see a bright, whirling torrent of crystals in the air around him,
and he could see them gather on the backs of his hands, like cold fur.
His breath was visible. Beyond, through the swirl of what he now, somehow,
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