The Clockwork Wolf by Lynn Viehl Page A

strong.”
    â€œMy men said as much, at least the ones who survived.” His jaw tightened. “Those bastards killed six of them in the streets before they got to you. It’s a miracle you survived.”
    That hadn’t been my doing. “Why did they fight each other, Tommy? Why didn’t they both attack me?”
    â€œThose men were insane, Kit. You’ll never fathom it.” He gave my hand a squeeze and stood. “I have to go now and see the families of the men who died. Try and get some rest.”
    What I wanted was to get up, get dressed, and get out of here—and never to sleep again. Fortunately my body would have none of that, and after a few minutes of fighting to stay awake I nodded off and slept without dreams, nightmares, Doyles, or Dredmores.
    Sometime later a sister woke me for the physick’s exam, which was a quick but somewhat painful business.
    â€œNo signs of addlement or rupture,” the iron-haired, hatchet-faced surgeon told the nurse, who jotted the same down on the chart she carried. “I am Mr. Brecourt, Miss Kittredge. I expect you in some amount of pain, given the buffeting you’ve taken. You may have some opiate if you wish.”
    What polite names doctors had for ruddy joy. “It’s tolerable, sir, so I’d rather not.” He must be a surgeon; they were called Mr. instead of Lord like other doctors because they were obliged to use their hands to work on patients, and no lord performed manual labor. “Is there some question of surgery?”
    â€œNot at present. When you came in I was obliged to extract some splinters of wood from your back and buttocks,” he said bluntly. “They were not lodged very deep, however, and the wounds should heal in a few days.”
    That explained why my back was sorest of all. “When can I be discharged?”
    He considered that. “You lay senseless for most of the night, and there is always the possibility of relapse. You also cannot reach the wounds on your other side, and such are prone to turn septic. I would keep you at least three days more. Why do you frown?”
    I told him the truth. “I appreciate your concern for me, sir, but I can’t afford that long a stay.”
    His expression cleared. “That is not a worry, my dear,” he advised me. “Your account has already been paid in full.”
    Doyle couldn’t have managed it. Dredmore could. “By whom, sir?”
    Brecourt glanced at the nurse, who consulted the chart before she said, “There is no name, sir, only a notation that it was a grateful mother.”
    He nodded. “I understand this morning many mothers are grateful to you, Miss Kittredge. Now, Nurse will change your bandages and see to some breakfast for you. I will look in on you during my afternoon rounds.”
    Brecourt left me with the sister, who helped me to lay on my front while she dampened my dressings with warm water before carefully removing them.
    â€œYou’re a very good healer, miss,” she said. “Most of these gashes are beginning to mend.” She gasped, and I felt her touch a tender spot. “Goodness, this one’s already closed over.”
    I’d always healed very quickly, but I couldn’t tell her having an immortal Aramanthan grandfather was the reason for it. “I’m sure it was just a scratch.”
    â€œAs you say, miss.” She finished her work quickly, however, and after replacing my bandages she practicallyran from the room, nearly bumping into someone who was coming in.
    I eased over onto my side to see it was Docket, who gave me a sheepish grin as he produced a bouquet of wild lavender. “Heard you’d taken a leaf from my book.” His voice dropped to a softer register. “How are you doing, love?”
    â€œI’ve had better nights.” I pillowed my head on my arm and watched him arrange the fragrant bunch in my water carafe. “They