Imagine, that exercising such basic care could be surprising to a man of his age.

"Fortunate," Raine said, absently, "because it could have been much worse. I'm familiar with the sorts of wounds a determined swordsman inflicts at close range. Tell me if this is unusually tender." She was pressing very gently along the edges of the deeper part, watching how the redness reacted to touch. So far it seemed normal: no unusual fluids, no significant inflammation. Simply not as mended as she would like.

Out of habit, unthinking, Raine reached to touch the back of her wrist to his forehead, the most basic of her checks for fever in the absence of a thermometer. 'Patient' had won out over 'Tu Yunxu.' "This wound crosses your entire torso, and it's straight, no catches, no second cut. It couldn't have happened that way if you had a chance to affect or deflect the blow. I'm assuming you were off your guard, in which case, whoever did this had the opportunity to do much more damage."

It was a clinical assessment, remote and without any real emotion in her voice, but she was nevertheless frowning.