“MADE IT ALL THE WAY down here without slicing yourself open,” observes Callidus through a mouthful of fish as I slide into the seat opposite him at our regular table. “Well done.” I glower at him. “I suppose I earned that.” “Rotting gods you did. If I’ve seen a more spectacular failure of basic human movement before, I don’t remember it.” Callidus’s humour slips to at least a hint of sympathy as he motions to my bandaged hand. “How bad is it?” “Bad enough to hurt. Not bad enough to get me out of stable duty.” “Ah. The worst amount of bad,”
