Daro Kesh drove his short sword the rest of the way home into its sword sheath with a dry wooden clack. Then, the physical bill for holding three open Early Jade exchanges arrived in Seyun’s knees all at once.
The clear, semi-clear plane along Nara’s plain ash staff winked out.
Seyun’s legs didn’t merely feel tired. It felt as though someone had quietly pulled the pins out of his hip joints and replaced the air in his lungs with cold river sand. His right knee dipped hard onto the frosted granite flat stone slab at the threshold of the screen wall. His left boot slid out flat beside him to protect the five calf stitches as he planted the butt of the blood-stained ash staff on the stone and leaned both hands over the top of the wood to keep his torso upright.
His chest heaved against the freezing mountain air in deep, rasping pulls. A cold sweat broke out across his brow and the back of his neck, dripping off his chin onto the granite beside the bright red droplets still running down from the four-inch sword cut on his right forearm.
Behind the screen wall, Mina set her wicker basket of baked-clay herb jars down on the stone bench and came around the corner in two swift strides, with Halin right behind her carrying the leather first-aid roll he had kept slung over his shoulder. Just then, he dropped the heavy splint basket in the eastern doorway.
