The only Capel remaining in the chamber was Trajan. He sat leaned against a pillar holding onto his broken leg. The cocky fighter in him was gone. No laughing now. Just whimpering and moaning.
The woman came over to him. Trajan lifted his hands to shield his face. She grabbed his arm and began dragging him.
“Leave me alone, I beg you,” Trajan cried.
The woman took him to the pedestal near the chamber’s center and placed his palm on its glassy surface.
“Computer,” she said in a flat tone. “Identify.”
The surface of the pedestal glowed as it had when Corvala had placed her hand upon it. There came a sound like an angry horn blast.
“Identity does not match,” the disembodied voice of the chamber announced.
Corvala looked out from behind her pillar, watching to see what would happen next. She saw Trajan wincing in preparation for the worst.
The woman knelt down beside him and looked over his leg. His break was at the middle of the shin, causing his lower leg to bend oddly to the right. The bone was bulging under the skin. She took his leg in her hands and bent it back to how it had been before, setting the bone. Trajan closed his eyes and gnashed his teeth from the pain.
The woman then produced what looked to be a sharp spur from the lower part of her palm. She inserted the sharp end into his leg and then took it out after a few moments. She placed her hands over the break. Corvala thought she could see a warm glow coming from the woman’s palms. Trajan was breathing heavily but then he calmed, as though his pain was being lifted from him. The woman stood up and helped him to his feet. He tapped his foot against the floor to test his leg. His break was healed.
“Leave this place,” the woman commanded, her voice just as emotionless as it was before.
Trajan backed away from her, confused. Then he loped away, out the doorway and up the tunnel.
The woman gave no pause but walked over to where Corvala hid behind the pillar. Before Corvala could figure out what to do, the woman had her by the wrist and was taking her out from hiding. Corvala try to pull her hand from the woman’s grip but it was no use. The woman took Corvala to the pedestal and pressed Corvala’s hand on the glassy surface.
The surface of the pedestal glowed and hummed.
“Identity matches,” said the disembodied voice of the chamber.