Chapter 15: Stitches

Tobias stitched Corwin's arm at the kitchen table at two in the morning, with half of Dauntrey House watching from the doorway.

He had sent them all out twice.

They came back both times.

"Twelve stitches," he said, and bit the thread.

"It's clean.

"It missed the tendon by the width of a coin."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Don't thank me.

"You put your arm in front of a knife for a man who pays you."

"He's very generous," Corwin said.

Tobias looked at him.

Then he looked at the duke.

Leander stood against the dresser holding the lamp, grey to the lips, and had not said a word in an hour.

He had held that lamp so steadily that not one shadow had moved.

His knuckles had gone the colour of bone.

"The man's gone," Dorian said from the door.

"We lost him on the Cooper's Bridge.

"My guards will have his description by morning."

"He wore a white mask," said Leander, to the lamp.

"They all do."

Dorian's eyes rested on him a moment too long.

"Two of the river watch heard you on the steps, Leander."

"I am sure they did."

"Hadrian's lawyer has already asked for their names."

He left it there, and went.

Tobias wrapped the arm in linen and set a small brown bottle on the table.

"Half a spoon if the pain is bad.

"Not more.

"Keep it dry."

He put a hand on Corwin's good shoulder.

"I'll be at the palace," he said quietly.

"If either of you needs me for anything.

"Anything."

He followed Dorian out.

The house went to bed in pieces, one door at a time.

Corwin climbed the stairs holding the bannister with his good hand.

His own bed in the servants' wing was cold and dark, and Leander stood in its doorway.

"No," Leander said.

"Mine."

His room was warm.

The fire burned low and red, and Leander set the lamp on the table and stood with his back to Corwin for a long moment.

"Sit," he said.

Corwin sat on the edge of the bed.

Leander knelt in front of him and began to unbutton his shirt, one-handed, as carefully as if he were taking a bandage off a child.

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