I put on my clothes and coat, trying to avoid contact with the wound as I did so. Walking out, I banged my shoulder against the wall of the flophouse and had to stop myself from screaming. I couldn’t go back to the Earl like this—they’d be cutting off my arm in half a day. And I didn’t want to alarm Celia any worse than I already had, so the Aerie was out too. Instead I headed south toward the harbor and a street doctor I knew, an aged Kiren woman who sewed up injuries in the back of a dress shop. She couldn’t speak a word of Rigun, and her dialect of heretic was sufficiently unrelated to mine as to make dialogue effectively impossible, but despite that and her irascible temper she was as good a battle medic as you could ask for, quick, practiced, and discreet. The snowfall had ceased, although it seemed to have continued through most of the night and would likely pick up again in an hour or two. In the brief interlude, however, it felt like the whole city was out on the streets, the thoroughfares packed with lovers walking arm in arm, and children celebrating the approaching festivities.
