Mina laid a curved cedar palm-board—carved thin enough to sit inside the hollow of the hand while keeping the hand bone arch from folding—against the salve-coated crease of Seyun’s left palm, then bound it snugly with clean linen strips that left his thumb and the tips of his first two fingers free enough to touch a pulse or turn a page. But prevented him from clenching a fist or gripping a weapon shaft. Then she picked up the second cedar splint and bound his right hand the exact same way.
Seyun bent his wrists experimentally. With the light cedar boards nested inside his bandages, the tearing pull across his palmar creases vanished at once, replaced by a cool, supported stillness. Yet if he tried to catch a heavy blow, brace his palms against a stone floor, or drive a high-pressure Flame palm-strike against an opponent’s guard, the cedar boards would snap and the underlying flexor sheaths would tear straight through to the bone.
“Mina,” Seyun said, looking down at the twin cedar splints before lifting his eyes to his sister’s calm, unbending face, “we’re going through the outer gatehouse of the Hollow Summit in four nights. Osen says there are two permanent Jade-realm wardens stationed on the upper gallery above the guide-rod floor.”
