"It," Caleb began, and then paused thoughtfully. He thought of the garish, winding scar on Astrid's neck, and of the net of incisions on hers and his and Eadwulf's arms, and then, after a moment, he said, "It looks worse than it is. It...hurts."

It cost something to admit how much it hurt, but it cost less to admit it to Essek than anyone else. His smile was small and tight. He reached out and touched the drow's wrist for a moment, and then let the touch fall away before he could let himself linger.

"I miss a good market," he admitted. "A salve and bandages wouldn't go amiss for this."