Only a few new cracks, running through the hall and bathroom. Hairline. The broken windows had lost a few more shards of glass, but the cardboard patches remained attached. The horseshoe Istvan hated still hung in its place above the door. The lights weren’t working, but they sometimes didn’t. He lit some candles. The stove was working, one of the benefits of not being electric. He drew some water from the barrel outside and put the kettle on. “If anyone comes by, I’m not home,” he told Beldam. She made one of her usual lazy attempts to trip him. He sidestepped the cat’s efforts and made for his room. His damaged cape, jacket, and shirt went on one side of the closet, to be repaired or used to make replacements when he got the chance. He had three spare jackets and one spare cape left. Five shirts. It would have to do for now. He took a shower, put on his robe, put his arm back in its sling, and made a cup of tea.
