“This is my house,” Aristedes said, his expression never changing. “I am the master here, and my will is—” Butters appeared behind Aristedes, from around an upended vat of some kind, and swung three feet of lead pipe into the side of the sorcerer’s knee. There was a sharp, clear crack as bone and cartilage snapped, and Aristedes screamed and went down. “That sound you just heard,” Butters said, his voice tight with fear and adrenaline, “was your lateral collateral ligament and anterior cruciate ligament tearing free of the joint. It’s also possible that your patella or tibia was fractured.”
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