At the Queen_s command

The Tharyngian Laureate looked much as he had when Owen had seen him before, though now, without a hat, black hair on his crown and grey hair at his temples became plainly visible. The pattern repeated itself in his goatee. He stood at the foot of the slab, studying Owen, then shifted to the left. He raised a hand and flicked a fingernail against the hanging glass. It rang and he seemed to take some satisfaction from it.

"You are a very fortunate man. Your perspicacity saved your life. The bullet had damaged your femoral artery, but the belt held things tight. Your packing the wound with that crude poultice likely has slowed infection. I should thank you for that. It has opened a new area of inquiry. I had no knowledge of the medicinal property of that plant and I am interested to see if it has uses beyond the obvious anesthetic qualities."

The man's words came with a soothing evenness that surprised Owen, and emphasized the lyrical quality of his Ryngian accent. It almost seemed as if the man cared whether or not Owen lived.

"Water."

"Perhaps, in a bit." Du Malphias disappeared for a moment, then returned, holding up a deformed hunk of lead. "This, then, was the bullet which struck you. It must have been a ricochet, no? It broke your leg, but I have set the bone. The break, she was clean. If you live, you will again be able to walk. If you do not, this is a problem we will deal with later."

The Tharyngian glanced past Owen's head. "Quarante-neuf, the stool, please, and the tray."

A large, shaved-headed man came around from the left and dragged a stool over to the slab's side. Du Malphias perched upon it, surrendering none of his height. He accepted a small silver tray with metal tools on it and rested it across Owen's ankles too far away for Owen to see what the tools were.

"And I shall need my apron."

Quarante-neuf became a silhouette, then returned to the circle of light and secured a blood-stained leather apron on du Malphias. The Tharyngian waved the servant back. He obediently retreated to the wall, barely visible, but staring forward.

Du Malphias took a small mirror from the tray, then peeled back the cloth covering Owen's injury. "If you care to look, the wound is relatively clean. I will sew it shut soon, but I wanted you to see the damage that has been done."

Owen didn't want to look, but found himself fascinated by his rent flesh and torn muscle. He wasn't certain because of the hanging lamp's weak light but he thought he caught an ivory flash of bone.

"You present for me a problem, sir." Du Malphias replaced the bandage. "I have examined your things. You have a rifle that has only been issued to men under my command. I have to assume that its previous owner is no more, his mission unsuccessful. He and his band sought property belonging to me. I shall assume you have some knowledge of this property and its current location. Do not bother to deny any of this. The pencils you carry were with the item I seek.

"I have made further deductions. You are friendly with the Altashee. You carry with you a child's doll, so you have deep connections with them. She is your daughter, the one who gave you this doll? And you carry a copy of A Continent's Calling. You are, therefore, literate and cognizant of fact that Mystria's future is not tied to the whims of Norisle's insane mistress."

Du Malphias plucked a blunt metal probe from the tray and used it to point at Owen's right thumb. "The blood under your nail and reports of my squad indicate you are brave and skilled at war. You were with others. I shall tell you that I have one of them in my custody, wounded worse than you. A shot through the bowels. He lost much blood, but he is a big man, no?"

Makepeace. Owen fought to keep any reaction from his face.

"He fares not as well as you. I am not certain I can save him." Du Malphias shrugged. "You know that if he does pass on, I will find uses for him."

Owen shivered.

Du Malphias smiled. "Good, you do understand. So, I shall tell you one more thing so you can make some decisions. You were betrayed by Etienne Ilsavont. He told me that you entrusted a message to him and his partner, promising a pound if they took it to Temperance. To Doctor Frost of the college. Etienne tried to convince his partner that if it was worth one pound to Frost, I should pay more. His partner disagreed, so they split, and Ilsavont returned here. He was out with the squad that discovered you. I shall assume, from the bullet I recovered from his chest, it was the one known as Magehawk who killed him."

He's dead. "Good."

The Laureate allowed himself a brief smile. "Etienne will serve us well, as did his father. The son has already identified your compatriots. You he did not know, but based on the conversation he related, you were keenly interested in what I am doing here. Now I am interested in what you are doing here, who you are, other mundane details of life. Will you share them with me, or must I convince you?"

"Owen Strake."