Asher, the dale’s physician, had arrived with Tasha. By then, they were all inside the main room of Caldwell House, which was devoid of customers. Everyone had already left for the ceremony at Castle Dulgath.
After a sneer from Royce, Asher had decided to treat Hadrian first, which didn’t take long. Not much could be done for cracked ribs other than wrap them tightly and frown a lot. Afterward, he sat across from Royce and looked at the thief’s hands. That was all he was able to do, as Royce refused to let him touch either one.
“I need to examine your hands,” Asher said. “And to do that I need to touch them.”
“Touch my hand and I’ll take yours as payment.”
Asher, a friendly-looking man with a big bushy-bear beard and a sunburned nose, threw up his hands and looked to Scarlett. “Nothing I can do if he won’t let me.”
“You’re right,” Royce said. “Go have a drink. There’s a barrel of ale in the wagon.”
“Do not have a drink,” Wagner told him. “I need to dump that thing.”
“We need to get going,” Royce said.
“Why?” Hadrian asked. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Lady Dulgath is still alive.”
“So?”
“So, I told the countess to cut down her ivy,” Royce explained to Hadrian as Asher remained sitting across from him. “Since she’s still alive, I’m guessing she listened. That means Fawkes has switched to plan B.”
“What’s plan B?” Scarlett asked.
“You said plan B isn’t possible.” Hadrian put his shirt back on over the stiff cloth strips Asher had wrapped him in. “You said he’d need Tom the Feather or that other guy, but he was in Manzant. Wait—you don’t think they got him out for this, do you?”
“What’s plan B?” Scarlett asked again.
Royce shook his head. “Couldn’t have. They didn’t know the man existed until I told them. Wouldn’t have had time to get there and back. Besides, Hawkins has been in Manzant for years. After so long, if he’s still alive, he’d be in no condition to do more than drool. But Fawkes might have dug up a crossbow.”
“Crossbow?” Scarlett looked at both of them, concerned. “What are you two talking about?”
“I told Fawkes and Payne that if they could get Lady Dulgath outside at a prearranged place, a place where they could hide an archer with a bow, then—”
“They’re going to kill her at the homage ceremony?” Scarlett’s eyes went wide.
“Be my guess, but with a little luck I think we can catch Fawkes, Payne, and their beloved church with fingers on the trigger—right in front of the king.”
“We have to go. Now!” Fear filled Scarlett’s face.
“He can’t go anywhere with two mangled hands,” Asher declared. “At the very least, I have to set the bones. If I don’t, that hand will be a worthless claw the rest of your life.”
“He’s right, Royce,” Hadrian said.
“You do it,” Royce told him.
For a moment Hadrian thought he was joking—another way of saying, You think so? Go ahead and try! But Royce’s expression was wrong. Hadrian wasn’t foolish enough to think he could read the man’s mind through his expressions. If so, he’d have concluded long ago that Royce wanted to kill every man, woman, child, and dog he encountered. For a time, Hadrian believed that might be true, but Royce had surprised Hadrian enough times that he came to realize this tree had roots no one could see.
Clues were there, but difficult to spot and harder to decode. The man didn’t like being read. Every truth that slipped out was cursed. It was why their rides together were so one-sided. People always gave parts of themselves away when they talked. If Royce was going to sacrifice a clue about himself, it wouldn’t be over idle prattle. Still, Hadrian had discovered some signs—he’d had to. Living with a man-killing tiger, you quickly learned the difference between a growl and a purr—or else.
Royce wasn’t growling.
“The doctor here is—”
“I don’t trust him.” Royce didn’t look at the doctor—hadn’t done so since he’d arrived. Maybe if he had he might have reconsidered. Asher, doctor of the dale, was a big fluffy man with a concerned brow and helpful eyes. But then Royce didn’t trust anyone. That he admitted—if only by assumption—that he trusted Hadrian didn’t go unnoticed. Needing help was an admission of defeat. Doing so in front of an audience was unprecedented.
Hadrian sat down beside Asher. “I’ve set bones before, but not in a hand. What do I do?”
“First, just have him hold his hand palm-down and extend his fingers all the way out.”
Everyone in Caldwell House was looking at Royce. His jaw was clenched, and he was breathing with irritation through his nose.
“Scarlett, Tasha, can you go ask Gill and Wagner to saddle our horses?” Hadrian asked.
“The two of you can’t ride busted up the way you are,” Scarlett said. “I’ll hitch Midnight and Mack to a wagon. They’re not as friendly as Myrtle and Marjorie, but they’re fresh and are used to pulling as a team. C’mon, Tasha, the boys want to be alone for a while.”
It took a second after they left, but Royce put out his hand and, with a wince, opened it as best he could. Two fingers and his thumb straightened out; the other two hung limp.
“Okay,” Asher said with his warm, reassuring tone. “I can see from here it’s not the fingers, but the bones in the back of the hand that need setting. So, Hadrian, what you need to do is gently lift the fingers—one at a time. Pull them out straight. Stretch them—don’t yank or anything, just a gentle pull. As you do that, press down with your other thumb on the bone that’s out of place. You’ll need to feel around for the break. You’ll find it. Just apply pressure until it lines up again. And Royce, try to leave your hand limp. You know, Scarlett can brew up something for the pain. She—”
“No!” both Royce and Hadrian snapped.
Hadrian shook his head. “We’ve had our fill of her recipes.” He looked at Royce with a grim smile and took his hand. “You ready for this?”
“Just shut up and do it.”
Hadrian guessed Royce was silently debating which was worse, the pain or the humiliation; he settled on the latter. Royce didn’t ask anyone for anything. Hadrian found the protrusion he was looking for and wanted to be as quick as he could. Asher offered encouragement as Hadrian squeezed and pulled.
Royce made no sound at all. His eyes squeezed shut; he breathed harder, more forcefully.
The bone slid down, and Hadrian moved to the second one. When he had both in place, Asher asked Royce to extend his fingers again. This time all four came up.
“Great!” Asher grinned, that big beard bristling. “Now take these splints and put one on the back and one on the front. Wrap them tightly. Secure the fingers, too; the less movement the better.”
The other hand was easier, just a matter of aligning the finger and splinting. Hadrian was wrapping it when Scarlett came back.
“All done here? Wagon’s ready to roll,” she said, moving behind the bar. “Looks like we have two, maybe three hours before the ceremony, but there’s no sense cutting things close. I’ll pack a meal for us; we can eat on the way.”
“You’re not going,” Hadrian told her.
“If you’re going to save Lady Dulgath, I want to help.”
“I don’t see what you can do.”
She looked nettled by the comment but forced a smile. “For one thing, I can vouch for you. Might need someone to speak on your behalf to Lady Dulgath.”
“Why would she listen to you?” Royce asked. “You’re not even a native.”
“I know her.” Scarlett tore a loaf of bread in half and wrapped it in a cloth.
“You do?” Hadrian asked.
“Yes. Don’t look so surprised. The countess visits the monastery a lot, and so do I. We’ve talked a few times. She’s very…different. If given the choice among Fawkes, Payne, you two, and me—she’d listen to me.”
“Okay, you can come,” Royce said.
“What?” Hadrian glared at him. “This is going to be dangerous.”