The unknown lamia clings to life, but was seriously wounded. Aykuh calls in favors from several people, and arranges to haul the battered Silver Egg to her tree. Trolls produce block and tackle, to hoist the big heavy thing ponderously into the air far enough to back one of the farmer’s bigger hay wagons under it. Six draught horses pull it to Aykuh’s tree. Once there, she has the wagon parked in the right place, and left there. Stuart shows up with some heavy cloth, and gives Aykuh several bolts. The cloth is put in places, ready to insulate the tree’s bark from the harsh metal.
Aykuh thanks everyone profusely, and feeds them all a truly huge dinner party at the inn.
Over the next several days Aykuh’s tree slowly picks up the Silver Egg and raises it far into the air. Aykuh, finally looking inside, realizes it is upside down and spends nearly a week rotating it.
The lamia has been feverish, and muttering incomprehensibly. Hotspur, Aykuh, and a few friends sit with her, trying to get her to drink, or sleep, or wake. Larrikan is invited to help when the big snake woman calms into normal sleep for a while when he sings in the inn. He sings lullabies and nursery rhymes to her, and the music helps her relax, to sleep, and to heal. While she is calm, Hotspur gets some water into her, which has been critical.
Nearly three weeks after the crash, the lamia wakes. She is weak and hurt, and obviously confused. Aykuh worries the Hunt has left her witless, but Larrikan argues she is not; she just is confused and does not speak the language. He argues she likes his music, so she must be sane. This at least made Aykuh smile.
It turns out to be true, too. As soon as she is strong enough to move, the lamia wants out of the Silver Egg. She makes it into the inn, and admires it, then exults in a sunbeam, or in front of the fire.
Many people – and several of the University students – want to be closer to her, or to ask her for luck. The language barrier is a problem, and Professor Djarlee is asked to help.
The Professor arrives with some equipment, and tries to explain what he needs to the lamia. This is not entirely a success. He finally shows her what he needs, collecting a handful of drops of his own blood, and gesturing for her hand.
Something convinces her to do this. The Professor is sure it is his sign language, but it is as likely to be the pleading look from the dryad, who has been nothing but kind to her. The blood is taken, mixed with pulped leaves of a plant, smeared on a leather thong, and more pantomime gets the lamia to tie it around her arm.
Suddenly, she is sure the dryad is telling her it will be all right, and she grins widely. She has so many questions!