Location:Ferrow's Rest
Date/Time:TC1856.11.26 – TC1856.11.28
She came in on the blade at midday and set down on the flat below the wall, a discourtesy she committed on purpose, because arriving on foot from the road would have been a piece of theater and Emrys Dunmore had earned better than theater.
He was up at the sixth row with Anselm Halloran, and he came down without hurrying, and she saw the arm before she saw anything else — strapped across his chest in a sling that had arrived from Seven Peaks with a note from Mira and no room in it for discussion, because he had split his thumb on a blank last month and had gone on working for an hour without knowing. The fingers showed at the edge of the cloth. They were not doing anything, because he was not asking them to.
"You said come back when I had something I could describe."
"I did."
"I've got it. It'll take an hour, and it isn't good."
Emrys looked at her for a moment.
"Then you'll want tea," he said.
***
