Then I stumbled, and the last power went out of will and sinew.

I had a glimpse of Shalah's grave face as I slipped into unconsciousness.
I woke in a glow of firelight.

Faces surrounded me, dim wraith-like figures still entangled in the meshes of my dreams.

Slowly the scene cleared, and I recognized Grey's features, drawn and constrained, and yet welcoming.

Bertrand was weeping after his excitable fashion.
But there was a face nearer to me, and with that face in my memory I went off into pleasant dreams.