"Do you know who Mrs. Freeman is?"

"The Negress, mem? I saw her frae the window."

Elizabeth said, "Give Mrs. Hope this message from me: Mrs. Freeman and my stepdaughter require that chamber for their own as long as we are here."

The girl swallowed hard--Elizabeth could almost see the thoughts moving behind her eyes--but then she bobbed her head. "Aye, mem."

"Otherwise I leave no message for her at all."

Some of Carryck's men were still milling about when Elizabeth found her way back to the hallway off the courtyard. As soon as they caught sight of her, their conversation faded away and they fell to studying the flagstones under their feet with great concentration and interest. They put her in mind of schoolboys, in spite of all their size and bulk.

"May I?" Elizabeth addressed the oldest of them, the man who had taken Hannah before him on his saddle. He ushered her through the men and then opened the door for her with an odd little bow.

"Thank you, Mr. ...?"

"Thomas Ballentyne, mem." He was gruff, but his expression was intelligent, and not unkind. She would ask Hannah about him when there was an opportunity.

It was a small room, and by its smell one used primarily for the storing of coffee and spices and dried herbs, but given over now to the Hakim for his surgery. A long table stood beneath a bank of windows, and on this, Nathaniel lay stretched out, his wounded leg elevated on a bolster. Hakim Ibrahim was bent over his wounded shoulder; just opposite him, Hannah stood with her back to the door. Curiosity was at a workbench, grinding a pestle into a small stone bowl.

"Mrs. Bonner," said the Hakim, glancing up only briefly. "Just a few more stitches, and then the leg must be attended to."

"Boots," Nathaniel said. His voice was very hoarse. "The babies?"

"Fed, and sleeping." She came closer, but Nathaniel kept his gaze on the ceiling overhead. The muscles in his jaw jumped with every movement of the Hakim's needle.

"How goes it here?"

"Very well," said Hakim Ibrahim. "The bullet broke the bone, but there is no damage to the larger blood vessels."

"He is not in danger," Hannah translated.

Curiosity made a disapproving noise. "Maybe the shoulder won't kill him, but it wouldn't be the first time I saw a man die of pure stubborn."

"There is another scar here, well healed." The Hakim's tone was very calm, in spite of the speed with which he worked. "A battle injury?"

Nathaniel sent a sidelong glance toward Elizabeth. "You could call it that. My father-in-law shot me."

"A hunting accident." Elizabeth wiped the sweat that ran down his brow to his temple. "Will you tease me even now?"

"Especially now," he said, and closed his eyes. His left arm twitched convulsively.

Behind her Curiosity said, "Don' bother askin', 'cause he won't take no laudanum."

She looked up in surprise. "He's had nothing at all?"

Nathaniel squeezed her fingers so hard that she jumped. "No laudanum."

"You see?" Curiosity raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth. "Stubborn." There was a swipe of dried blood on her headcloth, dark brown against the sprigged yellow calico.

Elizabeth saw Hannah's mouth settle in a strong line. There was an expression about her that she had not seen very often: defiance, and disdain. She was proud of her father's ability to withstand this pain, and resentful of the idea that he might not be equal to it.

"He doesn't want to sleep," Hannah said.

"And why should he?" Curiosity snapped. "Up all night chasing around strange roads, gettin' shot. Why sleep? Maybe the man got a bridge to build, or a war to fight."

Nathaniel closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again. "Curiosity, if there's a war that needs fighting, you go on ahead without me. They won't stand a chance."

Hannah ducked her head to hide her smile, but Curiosity sucked in one cheek and let it out again as she worked the pestle. "You better hope I don't take up weapons while I'm so put out with you, Nathaniel Bonner. I'll put a bullet in that other shoulder, fix you up proper."

The Hakim put down his needle and took up a feather, which he dipped in a bowl filled with a liquid, exactly the same shade of red as his turban. It had a strange scent, sharp and green, the smell of marshes and growing things.

"This is the sap of a tree that is native to Brazil," he told Elizabeth.

"It's called dragon's blood," said Hannah.

"Brazil?" Elizabeth looked more closely at the bowl.

"The earl has a specimen in his conservatory," said the Hakim. "Which is very fortunate."

It was clear that this was not Nathaniel's first encounter today with this feather, for he grasped Elizabeth's hand hard even before it touched the skin. He jerked convulsively and hissed through his teeth but Hakim Ibrahim continued painting the wound with quick, even strokes. "It will prevent infection. It is not pleasant, however. Much like salt in a wound."

"Too much like it," Nathaniel said.

"The shoulder will swell but the break was clean. I expect that in two weeks you will be able to use your arm again."

Curiosity sniffed. "I'd like to see you keep the man in bed for two weeks."

"I don't think that will be necessary," said the Hakim. "A few days' rest to regain his strength at most. And you must wear a sling, to protect the arm."